Associate Minister
On the Way to Bethlehem: A place of Humility (Love)
Romans 13: 8-11, Luke 2: 1-14
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Today, we are arriving in Bethlehem, the journey to this place as ancient as it is ever new. In the Gospel of Luke, we read of a young, expectant mother and her fiancé embarking on a humble pilgrimage—a journey required by a decree from Caesar Augustus, a ruler whose reach and power epitomized empire. And yet, in the shadow of such grandeur, this story unfolds in the quiet town of Bethlehem, a place deemed insignificant by the standards of the world.
Bethlehem, the “little town,” reminds us that God often begins great works in unassuming places. On this fourth and final Sunday in Advent, our waiting time is almost over. We pause in Bethlehem to look at the humility of the place and the call to love. How will we embody this humble, radical love in our lives?
The journey to Bethlehem was not one of choice, but of necessity. Joseph and Mary traveled because of an empire that demanded a census for taxation purposes. It was an imposition, a reminder that their lives were not their own in the eyes of Rome. And yet, this journey became the stage for something transformative: the birth of Christ, the ultimate declaration of God’s love for humanity.
How many journeys today are born of necessity rather than desire? Consider the thousands of migrants and refugees displaced from their homes, compelled to travel to find safety, freedom, or simply hoping to survive. Picture a family trudging through deserts or crossing dangerous waters, their only belongings carried on their backs. These are modern-day Josephs and Marys, and in their stories, we see the similarity to Bethlehem—a journey fraught with difficulty but filled with the potential for God’s transformative love.
Bethlehem, the birthplace of King David, was a town of little renown, of humble beginnings. In the Old Testament, the prophet Micah declared, “But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel, whose origins are from of old, from ancient times” (Micah 5:2). This prophecy not only set the stage for Christ’s birth but also affirmed that God’s greatest work often begins in unexpected places.
Bethlehem was more than just a small town; it was a symbol of hope, of God choosing the humble over the mighty. Its legacy as David’s city combined with the promise of a Messiah reminds us that even the smallest, most overlooked places can be the foundation for transformation. In the book that some of us have been reading this Advent, the author goes back even further, and explains how Bethlehem became associated with David – through Ruth and Naomi. Bethlehem was the place where they received compassion as foreigners – for them it was a place of new life and redemption. Jesus was not born in the big important city of Rome, but in the humble, fairly insignificant, Little Town of Bethlehem.
Today, what are our modern Bethlehems? Perhaps they are the shelters and food banks in our city, places like First United, which tirelessly serve those experiencing homelessness. These spaces, often overlooked or dismissed, are where God’s love is lived out. They are places where humility meets hope, and where the call to love our neighbours becomes tangible. The history of Bethlehem encourages us to look beyond appearances and recognize where God’s transformative power might already be at work.
The Downtown Eastside of Vancouver bears witness to the journeys of so many—individuals navigating poverty, addiction, and systemic neglect. In these modern “Bethlehems,” we find Christ’s call to humble love, beckoning us to see and serve the divine in those who are marginalized. First United is a place where meals are shared, warmth is provided, and dignity is restored. Here, God’s love is tangible in every act of kindness, every moment of listening, and every effort to meet a person’s needs. Like Bethlehem, it is a place of new life and redemption.
Paul’s letter to the Romans calls us to this radical kind of love. “Owe no one anything, except to love one another, for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law.” This is no small command. It is a call to love without conditions, to see every neighbour as worthy of dignity and care. Imagine what this could look like in our daily lives: forgiving someone who has wronged us, choosing patience over anger, or extending a helping hand to someone in need without expecting anything in return.
What would it look like for us here in our broader community? Maybe it would challenge us to confront the housing crisis, to advocate for reconciliation with Indigenous peoples, or to address the systemic inequalities that leave so many without access to basic needs. This love asks us to move beyond charity to justice, recognizing that this true and humble love seeks to transform the systems that perpetuate harm. When we meet someone who looks or dresses differently than we do, do we dismiss them, judge them as “other”? or do we say hello, give them a smile, acknowledging their humanity? When we hear about the struggles of Indigenous communities, do we remain silent, or do we educate ourselves and advocate for change? These are the questions that Bethlehem poses to us.
Mary’s journey to Bethlehem was not only physical but also spiritual. She too was an unlikely and humble person in an unlikely and humble place, who was about to bring God’s love to birth. A young woman from Nazareth, of no significant social standing, she exemplifies how God chooses the unexpected to bring about divine purposes. She said “yes” to an audacious call—to bear God’s love into the world. It was a risk, a leap of faith into the unknown. Consider the courage it must have taken for Mary to say yes, knowing the societal stigma she would face as an unwed mother and the physical hardships of her journey. And yet, she trusted in God’s plan.
What risks are we being called to take this Advent? Perhaps it is the risk of vulnerability—opening our hearts to someone in need. Perhaps it is the risk of advocacy—speaking out against injustice even when it is uncomfortable.
Perhaps it is the risk of trust – having courage to face a new or difficult challenge in our life. Perhaps it is the risk of generosity—giving not out of excess, but out of a deep commitment to love.
This is the heart of the Christmas story: that God’s love includes everyone, especially the “not-so-perfect.” In Bethlehem, God chose to dwell among us, not in the halls of power, but in a manger surrounded by the lowly and the humble, through Mary – a young, vulnerable teenager. God’s love meets us in our messiness, in our struggles, and in our imperfections. It’s a love that doesn’t wait for us to be ready or worthy, but comes to us just as we are.
In our community, how do we live out this truth? How do we create spaces where everyone knows they belong? At Mount Seymour United, we’re called to be a Bethlehem in our own right—a place of welcome, humility, and radical love. Whether it’s at coffee time after the service when we welcome a stranger, or through our work and ministry in the thrift shop, or volunteering in the café, or simply being a listening ear to a neighbour, we embody Christ’s love when we choose to see and celebrate the divine in every person.
We see glimpses of Bethlehem in grassroots movements for justice and peace. From climate activists protecting the earth to communities rebuilding after disaster, these efforts remind us that hope often begins in small, humble acts of love. Bethlehem might look like a conversation with someone who is new to Canada, a meal shared with a lonely friend, or a commitment to learn about the land we’re on and the Indigenous peoples who have stewarded it for generations. Bethlehem calls us to start where we are, with what we have, trusting that God can work miracles through even our smallest offerings.
I’m going to share a blessing by Kate Bowler that I found to be very fitting for today…
“Blessed are we, starting to see the height and depth and breadth
of God’s love that includes all of us, even the not-so-perfect.
Blessed are you, Mary, for saying yes to the big risk of being God’s dwelling place.
Blessed are we, like Mary, starting to sing our own songs of joy
at the thought that maybe this Advent we too can start to trust it, to risk it, to live it out,
the love that decides to love first, before it is earned or deserved,
the love that your incarnation embodies to the full.
Blessed are we, breathing in the truth that we belong, and so does everybody else.”
As we journey through these last few days of Advent and on through Christmas, let us carry Bethlehem in our hearts. Let us remember that God’s love is born in humble places and through ordinary people. Let us, like Mary, say “yes” to the risks of love. And let us, like Paul, commit to a love that is above all else, a love that transforms. May we breathe in the truth that we belong, and so does everybody else. And may we, in our own small ways, bring a little bit of Bethlehem to our world.
Blessed are we, starting to see the height and depth and breadth of God’s love. Blessed are we, choosing to live it out, one act of humble love at a time. Amen.