Week 2 PEACE
A Visit with the Shepherds
Bethlehem Is Not a Storybook: An Advent Journey Toward Peace
The children squealed in delight as someone banged on the front door. We were gathered for a first-grade Christmas party, the kind where frosting ends up in hair and no one sits still for long. But in that moment, the room fell into an awed silence. This was no Santa Claus in a shabby costume and tired beard. Instead, a tall shepherd stepped into my living room, dressed in flowing robes and carrying the presence of something ancient and alive.
He waved his arms with excitement, eyes wide with wonder.
“The angels!” he exclaimed, “They filled the sky! And the night that had been so dark. It filled with light!”
The children’s eyes popped from their heads as the Shepherd leaned on his tall staff and began telling the Christmas Story. He wore a long blue shepherd’s robe with a white keffiyeh wrapped around his head.
Something shifted in the room. Even the youngest children understood that this was not pretend. It was story, yes. but it was also truth. The kind of truth that echoes through centuries and still knocks on doors, still carries Peace into homes that are ready to listen.
Enduring and Proclaiming Peace Across the Ages
Years later and 8,000 miles away, I met Ashraf Jaraysah at his olive wood carving studio, where the scent of freshly sanded wood and the sweet smell of lacquer hung in the air. With practiced hands, he and his sons carve delicate nativity sets from the ancient olive trees of the Holy Land, each figure born from trees that have withstood storms, drought, and occupation. Now I was sitting in his living room, a descendant of one of the shepherds. His family had invited me to spend the weekend in Beit Sahour, and I had the quiet sense that I was being folded into something sacred.
Herod had not succeeded. He had not wiped out the true Prince of Peace, Jesus the Christ. Nor had he silenced the testimony of the first witnesses. From generation to generation, the story had been passed down through Ashraf’s family—how their ancestors saw the angels fill the sky and heard their song pierce the silence of the night. How they followed the directions of the angels to a lambing cave and found a newborn lying in a manger.
They Carry this Story Still.
The descendants of the shepherds live just outside of Bethlehem, in the town of Beit Sahour, nestled near the fields where angels once proclaimed, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth Peace, goodwill toward all.” And the residents of Beit Sahour continue to proclaim that story, not just with words, but with their lives. With every carving, every shared meal, every refusal to hate, they preach the birth of Jesus.
Just down the road is the Shepherd’s Field Church, built on land once owned by the Jaraysah family for thousands of years. They donated the land to the Catholic Church so that pilgrims could worship on holy ground, earth that had felt the footfall of shepherds, sheep, and, perhaps, angels. The church is a sanctuary of stone and light, built in a circular shape to echo the eternal nature of the story it holds. Its dome opens to the sky, just wide enough to imagine an angel choir descending. Murals line the walls, angels in flight, startled shepherds, and the cave of birth illuminated with divine presence. The altar is simple, unadorned, as if to remind visitors: the miracle began in humility, the Peace of that night is still found here.
Here, faith is not detached from daily life. It is tethered to memory, place, and a deep hope that refuses to die.
The people of Beit Sahour do not cling to faith as a crutch; they cling as survivors of every attempt to erase them. They hold faith as one might hold an heirloom, fragile, precious, and rooted in blood and blessing.
Ashraf told me, “We will not leave. We are called to stay and to share until Christ returns.”
Peace, for them, is not a sentimental feeling. It is a disciplined practice. It is lighting candles when the power is out. It is singing Christmas hymns when the road to Jerusalem is closed. It is carving a nativity from olive wood even after a grove is bulldozed. It is raising children to believe in Peace in a land where peace is constantly threatened.
They do not forget the angels.
And they do not forget the baby.
The shepherds are still in the fields proclaiming Peace on Earth.
An excerpt from the book, “Bethlehem is not a Storybook, Learning to Listen: A Journey Toward Peace” by Lani Lanchester to be published in 2026.
Advent Reflection Questions
- Where do I need to stop confusing silence with peace?
- How can I live into a peace that is active, honest, and rooted in God’s justice rather than comfort?
- What would it look like for me to become a modern shepherd, one who bears witness to peace amid fear and division?
- Whose peace is endangered today, and how can my presence, prayer, or generosity help protect it? (Think of families, artisans, or communities in Bethlehem who practice peace through their daily resilience.)
Advent Practices for the Week of Peace
- Support a Maker of Peace. Buy or share the work of a Bethlehem artisan or fair-trade shop such as Bethlehem Fair Trade Artisans or the Bethlehem Carving Group. Every purchase sustains peace through livelihoods and sacred art.
- Support the Shepherd’s Society of Bethlehem. The Shepherd Society seeks to reflect Christ’s love to every person who comes through our doors, striving to transform the lives of all who seek our help with compassion, dignity, and hope.
- Light a Candle for the Shepherds. As you light your Advent candle this week, pray for the people of Beit Sahour and Bethlehem, that their light would continue to shine in the fields where angels once sang.
- Practice Peace in Action. Make one deliberate act of reconciliation this week. Listen to someone you’ve avoided, offer forgiveness, or serve quietly where resentment once grew. Let peace begin in your hands.
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