IT’S CHRISTMAS AGAIN

IT’S CHRISTMAS AGAIN !

 Christmas Day is here, and once again we kneel near the manger crib of our Infant Saviour. No angels have we heard on high carolling his praises, no brightness has paled the starts of night to herald the birth of the Child of eternal years. Only the steady light of faith has dispelled the night of our hearts. And it’s Christmas again ! Last Christmas is long ago; and perhaps the slow-going year had brought an unexpected load of sorrow into our lives. We may have had days and weeks of anxiety that none could share with us. Perhaps it was on us the others leaned, and we had to hide the gnawing care of our own hearts. It may be the bright days have been few and the dark days many. It may be the shadow of the Cross was hard against our path, even as it falls across the crib of Bethlehem.

But all that is hidden now as we join the silent, wonder-struck adorers of the first Christmas night. Mary, our Mother is here; and good St. Joseph. And yet, because we are slow in virtue we may feel out of place with them. Mary’s untold love and Joseph’s unfailing devotion seem so far beyond the reach of our faint efforts. Somehow it is best to take our place among the lowly shepherds, content just to be there and happy just to find comfort in the presence of our King and Maker, baby as he is. We shall join the wide-eyed hillside herdsmen and say our simple prayers with them, wondering at “that which has come to pass, which the Lord has shown to us.” In childlike broken speech with them we shall tell our God that we too have come to welcome him, the days of austere anticipation now over. With them we shall offer the gifts of the poor of the earth: the weakness of our bodies, the darkness of our ignorance, the poverty of our people. Then with deep trust we shall lay the future at the manger’s edge; the future hidden with its unknown freight that only time will bring to light. And we ask the Infant to strengthen our hearts and make them more like his as the days slip by into eternity. And as the gift of prayer makes us more receptive, we can listen to him. Nothing great he puts before us to achieve except to love him, to be faithful to him, to love one another for him, to believe in his love for us, and witness to him faithfully.

For many people at Christmas there is great emphasis on what they are going to get. So it’s good to remind ourselves on that gift that was wrapped up in circumstances of deepest poverty: a hayrack for a bed, an ox and ass for nurses, the cobwebs for canopy.

There were quite a few donkeys involved in the life of Jesus: his birth, flight in to Egypt, and triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Perhaps the Gospels wish to give us an idea of the type of people Jesus Christ had to deal with! And even though each Christmas I find myself between the doctrine and the donkey, I trust I know enough to realise that life consists may be in gifts, but certainly not in gots. And the best and noblest gift is that of the self. So it’s a good idea, especially at a time when we are expecting things from people, to check on what we can do without, to detach ourselves from all created things, and help bring about that day when words like pleasure, power and possession will not mean more to us than ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven. The challenging meaning of the Christmas story reveals this.

It tells us that even though God is infinitely different, he remains the God of the Christmas night, coming close to us on his own initiative and saving us the need to rend the heavens to access him. “The Word became flesh.” God has entered human history in Jesus Christ as Mary’s Child and his own Son. He carries the history of all peoples now. And yet God remains very unobtrusively present in the world, nowhere forcing himself on people but standing at the door and politely addressing himself to man as he did at the Annunciation. He is as defenceless as a child, his steps as hesitant as a stranger’s finding his way in this world. For God is so great that he can allow himself to become a child. He is so strong that he can appear weak. He is overwhelmingly attractive that he draws everyone without force or compulsion. He is that almighty he can bind people to himself without limiting their freedom.

I was struck by Mary’s response to all the excitement she witnessed around the birth of the baby Jesus. The Angel of the Lord brought “good news of great joy for all people” to the shepherds, and they “went with haste” to find Jesus. They told everyone around them about the good news – including Mary. But she didn’t jump up and down like she’d won the lottery, she didn’t high-five everyone who crowded into the stable, she didn’t burst into song or do a victory dance. She “treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.”

So let us look at the Babe again. He comes into this world, dispossessed Infinity, naked and cold that we may restore him everything: the universe for his stable, and for his manger our hearts and their warmth.

“May the little hand of Christ bless our year,

And the great heart of Jesus hold us dear.

And all blest and happy things

Which the love of Immanuel brings

Be ours until another Christmas is here.”