Bethlehem: The Birthplace of Supremacy Culture and Colonization
Tracing Christianity’s Radical Roots and Its Shifting Arc
Imagine this:
A dusty road winds through the quiet village of Bethlehem, the stone homes bathed in moonlight. Above, a star burns brighter than the rest, guiding travelers from distant lands. A newborn child, wrapped in rough cloth and laid in a feeding trough, lies at the heart of this story—a story of humble beginnings that promised liberation for the oppressed and hope for the marginalized.
For centuries, this has been the image of Christianity’s genesis. It is a story many of us know by heart, steeped in divine promise and framed as the beginning of a faith rooted in humility and justice. But beneath this familiar narrative lies another truth—a shadowed history of how this story was reshaped into the foundation of systems of domination: Christian supremacy, antisemitism, and colonization.
To confront this truth is to grieve. It is to name the harm done in the name of this faith and to recognize how we have all, in some way, participated—actively or passively—in its perpetuation. Yet, it is also an invitation to imagine something new: a way to untangle the sacred from the systems it has upheld and reclaim the radical liberation buried beneath centuries of power.
This is the journey we begin today.
A Personal Reckoning: Tracing the Fractures of Faith
This story, like many others tied to Christianity, shaped my life for decades. I grew up Irish Catholic, immersed in an ethnoreligion where faith was more than personal belief—it was cultural identity. I learned the catechism, memorized the rites, and steeped myself in the history of the Church. As a child, I knew the structure and solemnity of the Mass, where voices barely rose above a whisper and the space felt sacred in its quietude.
When I moved to the South as an adult, everything changed. For the first time, I became a part of a non-Catholic church. The teachings were different, the Bible was different, and the atmosphere was something I could never have imagined. The singing was loud, the rejoicing unrestrained, and the sheer energy of the service left me both curious and deeply intimidated. At first, I couldn’t reconcile this with my quiet Catholic roots, and I left, sure I was going to hell if I stayed in that space.
But curiosity pulled me back. I began attending again, eventually joining the women’s ministry, the children’s church, and, yes, sitting front row. I was swept up in it all—the community, the doctrine, the study—and began to immerse myself in understanding not just this church, but the broader world of Christianity.
That was when I began to see the fractures. The sects, the divisions, and the ways doctrine had been shaped and reshaped depending on who was receiving it and who was delivering it. I studied deeply, becoming a pastoral counselor and founding Selenite and Sage, a practice dedicated to shadow work and helping those leaving the Church reclaim their indigenous spiritual practices.
But even there, I saw harm emerge. The wave of white witchcraft brought spiritual bypassing into the spaces I sought to build, so I began anew. I created a community focused on unlearning, unpacking, and ancestral veneration, which blossomed into what you now see before you: Liberation Education, a branch of Make Shi(f)t Happen, my company dedicated to liberation through decolonization and whole self-healing.
This journey—my own personal decolonization—has been painful and freeing, filled with grief, reclamation, and a deep commitment to sharing these stories.
Bethlehem’s Radical Promise: Rooted in the Torah and Tanakh
To fully understand the significance of the Star of Bethlehem, we must first understand its origins in the Torah and Tanakh—the foundational texts of Judaism. These sacred scriptures, later reframed as the “Old Testament” by Christians, were central to the beliefs of early Jewish Christians and deeply shaped the narrative of Jesus’ birth.
The Prophetic Promise of Bethlehem
Micah’s prophecy 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).
Similarly, Isaiah envisioned a messiah who would bind the brokenhearted and proclaim freedom:
"The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor... to proclaim freedom for the captives" (Isaiah 61:1).
These prophecies were deeply Jewish in their origins, rooted in a covenantal relationship between God and Israel. Early Christians, often referred to as Jewish Christians, continued to follow Jewish law and use the Torah and Tanakh as sacred texts. For them, Jesus’ teachings aligned with the prophetic calls for justice, mercy, and restoration.