If we
did birthday cakes for Christmas, Jesus would have
two-thousand-twenty-four candles on his cake this year! But we don’t do
birthday cakes at Christmas, do we? We don’t celebrate how old
Jesus is – that’s not what Christmas is about. No, we celebrate Jesus
who, as St. Paul says, is “the same yesterday, today, and forever;”
Jesus who is Emmanuel, God-with-us: ageless, never old, ever new.
I have Timothy Radcliffe, English Dominican priest, who spoke here on
Good Friday of 2002 - and who was just made a Cardinal by Pope Francis -
to thank for that insight, and it’s a good one, I think. It’s not Jesus’
age that we mark or celebrate at Christmas; it’s the simple yet stunning
fact that Jesus once came among us and is still coming among us. And
because of this, we have reason for hope, we have a future.
Cardinal Radcliffe illustrates this with a touching story that goes back
to the time when he served as the leader of all the Dominicans
worldwide. He was paying a visit to his Dominican brothers and sisters
in Rwanda in the wake of the terrible genocide there, and spent some
time one evening with a priest who was desolate. Nearly all his friends
had died and everything he had worked so hard to achieve had been
destroyed. There seemed no future at all. But then the Cardinal goes on
to tell how, the very next Christmas, he received a Christmas card from
that priest. It was a picture of himself holding two chubby Rwandan
babies. Under the picture he had written the words, “Africa has a
future!”
Every Christmas
when we remember the birth of the Christ child we look backwards in
time, yes, but we also look to the Christ being born among us now, and
for that reason we are able to say the same thing as that priest in
Rwanda. We are able to say that ‘humanity has a future.’
And isn’t that a message we all desperately need to hear – that humanity
has a future? So much around us says otherwise, doesn’t it? So much
around us spells defeat. So many of our efforts come to naught. So many
human enterprises collapse under the weight of hatred, selfishness,
extremism. Look at the steadily devastating phenomenon of climate
change. Look at the wars that are raging around the world--in Ukraine,
Gaza, and Sudan. Look at the millions of refugees, desperate for asylum;
look at the dark ghettoes of world poverty. Look at our deeply divided
nation.
But then look also at the Christ – the Christ of Bethlehem,
yes, but the Christ of the here and now, as well. The Christ we carry in
our hearts, the Christ whose sacraments sustain us on our journey, the
Christ we meet in the least of our brothers and sisters, the Christ
whose gospel still pricks and prods our consciences and the consciences
of millions.
My friends,
we celebrate a birthday at Christmas but we celebrate so much more. We
celebrate the embrace by the all-merciful God of our broken world and
our broken selves. We celebrate the fact that not only did God once come
to us as one of us, but that God still does – still continues to come
among us in countless ways, human ways, sometimes surprisingly human
ways, ways we can touch and ways that touch us. God comes in word and
sacrament, in bread and wine, and in the flesh and blood of our brothers
and sisters: the ones we love and the ones we find it hard to love.
This is why Christmas is as much about now as it is about then. Oh, it’s
fine to remember the then – in fact, it’s important that we do:
important that we dim the lights, trim the trees, sing the carols, give
the gifts, and stand in quiet wonder before the manger scene. We must!
But we can’t stay there. We need to look around us and see
where hope is showing its face today: in two people falling in love, in
the birth of a baby, in love showered on an aging parent, in the
educating of a child, the sheltering of homeless people, the welcoming
of refugees, the awakening of a conscience, the conversion of a heart,
the dialogue between religions, the pursuit of justice, the care for
creation, the search for peace. Each of these flashes of hope gives us a
glimpse of the face of the loving God who, in Bethlehem’s manger, showed
us his face – and continues to show us his face - in Jesus Christ who
dwells among us.
My
friends, Christmas means that God loves the human family. Loves, not
loved. Christmas means that God is part of our family and that we are
part of God’s family. Ever since God took on our flesh, Christmas became
an ongoing thing, a forever thing, not a once-upon-a-time thing.
Let me conclude with this little poem from a contemporary Scottish poet:
Light looked down and saw the darkness.
“I will go there,” said Light.
Peace looked down and saw war.
“I will go there,” said Peace.
Love looked down and saw hatred.
“I will go there,” said Love.
So he,
the Lord of Light,
the Prince of Peace,
the
King of Love
came down and
crept in beside us.
My friends,
Light, Peace, and Love did creep in beside us in the child of Bethlehem.
That’s why there is hope. That’s why there is joy. That’s why we are
here. That’s why we celebrate. Merry Christmas!
Father Michael G. Ryan
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