The Seventh Before Christmas

 

        We spend a good deal of time in our Christmas songs focusing on Christ's birth in Bethlehem, his first bed being a manger, the visit of the shepherds, the coming of the wisemen, the star, and even the flight to Egypt, but very few songs touch on how it all began. The reason Jesus was born in Bethlehem and laid in a manger in the first place.

It is told most vividly in the opening of Luke chapter 2: 

"Now in those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus, that a census be taken of all the inhabited earth...And everyone was on his way to register for the census, each to his own city. Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the city of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and family of David, in order to register along with Mary, who was engaged to him, and was with child." ~ Luke 2:1, 3, 4

 Traveling from Nazareth to where we believe Bethlehem to be located would have been a 92 mile walk on one of two possible routes. At the average person's walking speed, and assuming Mary rode, which, I believe, is a valid assumption, this journey would have taken about five days.

It is most likely they would have taken the route which bypassed Samaria which was slightly easier than the shorter one straight through, however, it still could not have been easy for Mary, nine months with child, not only young, but expecting her first. 

In commemoration of what must have been a very dull, difficult journey, I want to share a little known, relatively modern song which I learned recently. It's called "La Peregrinacion" in Spanish which translates to "The Pilgrimage." Written in the style of Argentinian folk music by 20th century composer Ariel Ramirez, this song contains the lilting,  yearning of weary folk who have been on a journey for too long, woven with a hopeful buoyancy that foreshadows joy.

A la huella, a la huella
José y María
por las pampas heladas
cardos y ortigas.

A la huella, a la huella
cortando campo
no hay cobijo ni fonda
sigan andando.

Florecita del campo,
clavel del aire
si ninguno te aloja
¿adónde naces?