This past holiday season, like many others before it, the Arab world’s favorite Christmas carol spoke directly of war and suffering.
As Orthodox Christians observed their 12 days of Christmas from January 7 to 19, their churches in the Middle East were the last to sing “Laylat al-Milad” (Christmas Night). Written in the 1980s during Lebanon’s civil war, the song was performed by classic divas, worship leadersAnd children’s choirs look alike. Since then, it has offered solace during regional conflicts, from the Syrian civil war to ISIS’s reign of terror to the current war between Israel and Hamas in Gaza.
Its haunting melody and lyrics are less about a baby in a manger and more about the life that baby demands we live. And also about the life that baby makes possible:
Chorus:
On Christmas Eve, the hatred disappears
On Christmas night the earth blooms
On Christmas Eve, the war is buried
On Christmas night, love is born
Verse 1:
When you offer a glass of water to a thirsty person, it’s Christmas
When we dress a naked person in a dress of love, we are at Christmas
When we wipe the tears from crying eyes, it’s Christmas
When we stuff a desperate heart with love, we are at Christmas
Verse 2:
When I kiss a friend without hypocrisy, I’m at Christmas
When the spirit of vengeance dies in me, I’m at Christmas
When the hardness is gone from my heart, I’m at Christmas
When my soul merges into the being of God, I am at Christmas
Christmas time in the Middle East can be a double blessing. Advent begins a month before the Catholic and Protestant feast of December 25, while festivities continue weeks later until the Orthodox celebration of January 7 and its Epiphany on January 19. But this season, in sympathy with a muted Christmas in Gaza, Christians in the Holy Land canceled their public celebrations.
Yet they still gathered to sing and worship in church.
In the northern Israeli town of Kafr Yasif, the Baptist church “kissed friends” in collective greeting while the worship band led a joyous rendition of “Laylat al-Milad.” In Amman, Jordan, an evangelical orphan ministry brought together about 300 at-risk Muslim and Christian children to celebrate, while the Baptist school choir serenaded their parents. And in Erbil, in Iraq’s Kurdistan region, the Covenant Church included Christmas singing in a joyful gathering of potlucks and gift exchanges.
The Syrian-born director of Lebanese radio station BeLight FM said he plays “Laylat al-Milad” at least once a day. And an Egyptian director of SAT-7, the Christian satellite television channel, called it a holiday favorite.
CT asked evangelical leaders in each location for their thoughts on the seasonal norm:
George Makeen, ministry content consultant for SAT-7:
To get an idea of how this song resonates with Arab Christians, imagine the end of World War I, when churches were full of people celebrating the end of the conflict despite the destruction all around them. They knew the suffering was over and could anticipate future reconstruction. But for us, we are fragile and see no way out of our situation. We ask: God, how long? But we don’t think it’s going to end anytime soon.
Yet in Christ we celebrate anyway.
This song conveys the true meaning of Christmas. It reminds us of harsh realities, and as soon as we become aware of them, that’s when we are most aware of Christmas.
This paradox is not what we usually hear in Christmas carols, but like everything else in our faith, the incredible is true. This is fitting because the original Christmas story was a harsh reality. The boy whose birth was announced by the angels flees to Egypt while a king massacres the babies.
I don’t remember a time in my life when the suffering was so intense. But if Gaza is an earthquake, the aftershocks will also be dangerous. What will happen with the coming wave of fanaticism? What impact will this have on continued economic tensions in Egypt, Lebanon and Sudan? And what about collective trauma everywhere?
We expect more suffering.
But my favorite line in the song is “the hatred disappears, the war is buried”. The baby who fled to Egypt died by crucifixion – but in the meantime he preached love and hope and was eventually resurrected. We try to convey this message in our programming, but a song conveys it with much more power.
David Rihani, leader of the Assemblies of God Church in Jordan:
In Jordan, Christmas is a public holiday and before canceling solidarity celebrations with Gaza, public squares and shopping centers were decorated festively. But with all that missing, the focus is squarely on Jesus. And this song, popular every Christmas, is by far the most popular.
His message, stronger than any sermon – or UN resolution – has never been clearer.
This year, Jordanian children were much less concerned about receiving gifts. They know something is wrong in the world, overwhelmed by media reporting on the war 24/7. The images are of dying children and angry protests. But while the news outside is all about suffering, our churches and halls have resonated with youth choirs singing with passion, demonstrating their concern for life and peace.
They inspired me to speak louder to end the war.
We tell our children that there is politics and there are people. We must not hate each other. We hate war, but we must take this opportunity to connect with Jews and Muslims in the quest for peace.
There should be no problems between Arabs and Israelis. Muslim empires protected Jews when they were oppressed in Europe. And historic Palestine had them as friends and neighbors. This song calls for tolerance, peace and reminds us that “the spirit of vengeance dies within me”.
The more we connect, the fewer problems we will have.
Nour Botros, radio manager of Belight FM from Lighthouse Arab World in Beirut, Lebanon:
I heard this song growing up in Syria, but it never resonated with me until Christmas 2013, when I fled the war and went to Lebanon. I didn’t know if I would ever see my family again, but the refrain – “the war is buried, the hatred disappears” – was moving.
We were in civil war with the exact opposite reality, killing each other out of hatred. And I thought about celebrating Christmas away from home, but with the hope that at Christmas we would have the opportunity to love one another, just as God loves us. And even today, after 13 years of war in my country, any song about peace continues to touch my heart.
Syria thirsts for love and peace.
Many years later, at BeLight, I watched the filming of a music video of this song sung by children with special needs. Their voices had nothing to do with those of our classical Arab singers. But again, it touched me, as the phrase says: “When the hardness of my heart is gone, I am at Christmas.” »
As a believer, meditating on this song reminds me of what happened during this holiday. Each person must understand his message, why Jesus was born and remains with us today. Even in times of war, it will give us the hope we need.
Malath Baythoon, senior pastor of the Covenant Church in Erbil, Iraqi Kurdistan Region:
It’s an incredible song, with a beautiful melody. It represents a new beginning: a new tree, new clothes as a gift and, above all, a new heart. The baby Jesus brought God’s love to this world, and as Iraqis we sing him at Christmas to help us change our mood.
It’s because this song doesn’t represent reality at all.
In fact, it’s exactly the opposite. Israel and Gaza are at war. Russia and Ukraine are at war. Economic problems are everywhere. And here in Kurdistan, there are constant tensions between different groups of people. This is not a confirmation of what actually happens at Christmas.
But if we sing this song as a prayer, it works. This can be true in our person-to-person and family-to-family relationships. This may be true in our churches. We want this season to be filled with love, but if you don’t know Jesus, you are drawn to war and hatred.
The song can be a reality in our hearts – we can only pray that it will be true in our nations.
Rula Mansour, founder and director of the Nazareth Center for Peace Studies and associate professor at Nazareth Evangelical College, Israel:
Our center has made this refrain – “Hate disappears, the earth blooms, war is buried, love is born” – our motto for Christmas, reminding us that love, born from the bosom of darkness, transcends boundaries with the power of creation and redemption. .
It is through the acts of compassion, liberation and healing illustrated in this song – offering water to the thirsty, clothing the naked, wiping away the tears of those who cry – that God aims to restore human dignity. The Church, its transformed community, displays these signs of the kingdom in the face of oppressive structures, as evidence of God’s new world.
With hope, we look beyond difficulties and trust in God’s goodness and complete sovereignty over tragedy and injustice. Even if we cannot see the results now, God will complete our unfinished and imperfect work, bringing justice and righting all wrongs in His time.
We see the “buried war” through the eyes of our faith.
And then, as followers of the Peacemaker and co-workers with God, we earnestly tear down the walls that separate us, resisting evil with good and hatred with love, to pave the way for a better future. But it is when “our souls merge into the being of God,” as the song says, that his love moves us away from exclusion to embrace the other, transforming an enemy into a friend.
Only then can we become beacons of hope, transmitting God’s presence to bring healing, comfort, justice, peace and restoration to the places, situations and lives we touch . And this year in particular, this song, like a prophetic melody, declares the transformative power of Christmas – with a call to action to “bury the war.”
