The Communities of New Skete

Reflections on Christmas

Jer. 23:3-6; Gal. 4:4-7; Mt. 2:1-12

These days it seems Christmas is referred to more as the Yuletide or the Holiday Season, with cards and banners saying Seasons Greetings and Happy Holidays. Some of this is probably an attempt to be socially sensitive, or maybe even unreligious, but somehow friendly and full of good will toward all.

Good old Christmas, like Thanksgiving, certainly brings to mind, for us who are a little older, the nostalgia and customs of the past. Many of us had special Christmas Eve foods, like the lush Italian-style seafood dinner, or the plain caraway seed and sauerkraut soup. Now Christmas is overwhelmed with it a full gamut of decorations from traditional to snowy winter-festival images – but these are usually a lot more tasteful than some recent Halloween extravaganzas. Today the main focus is the exchange of gifts, something that seems so important for our own self-respect, at least, and for our image in the eyes of others.

Those of us who attend church and listen to the stories surrounding the birth of the Christ might reflect that we may have been imitating the wise men from the East in our gift-giving. More likely, of course, our tradition of gifts is based on the pastoral example of the great bishop St. Nicholas, who has now morphed into good old St. Nick and Santa.

Fortunately, Santa’s “making a list and checking it twice whether we are naughty or nice” has largely become irrelevant, though it may provoke slight twinges of guilt in us. But we always have that warm feeling when we reflect that, yes, we do receive gifts, so we’re nice after all! On this occasion we are more outgoing in our social rituals, and even pleased with ourselves, for not being a Scrooge. Thankfully, unless we are out of a good job, most work has closed down, and it’s time for families and friends to make contact and gather together. Then at New Year’s we sincerely vow to continue doing all the right things for ourselves and each other in the days and months to come.

These great moments of widespread holiday celebration are a needed break and distraction from the chaos, drudgery, and bad news that surround us. Here in the Western world we take this time for granted, even as the holiday becomes more consumer oriented and the economy goes sour.

Yet we also need to be able to step aside from the celebration activity for a moment, if only for our own sanity. What gives give balance to all the energy spent, and the sentimentality that easily arises now, is the birth and presence of the child. St. Francis knew this when he set up the first live Christmas crèche. The child opens its arms to us and we are hooked. It is so natural and instantaneous that we respond immediately. Any child does this to us, and every child is special, but today the services, the list of prophecies and the repetition of carols, point to this particular child.

Where does this child lead us, as Isaiah says? To places beyond what is needed in getting our daily bread and the rush to make a living. We don’t have to go far to discover this right there in Jesus’ own words. The gospels proclaim the message, or call, and the answer is revealed, we can read it. Yet it is so hard to put it all together—my life, our lives, the Lord Jesus, politics, illness, suffering and death.

There are and have been people who handle this a lot better than we have. Sometimes maybe the answers they find exceed what is even possible at this moment for you or me. The holy or noteworthy people whom we can recall, whether on the church’s calendar or not, portray a deeper experience and understanding. They knew and felt the meaning of the child’s presence, who Christ is, and how God is his and our Father. As for ourselves, we might notice or be drawn to the kinds of people who seem to have that light, that energy. Sometimes we meet someone who is honestly compassionate and kind. We say, O yes, I see — that’s what I want to be like, at least a little bit more.

But sooner rather than later the shadowy negativities of our routines, our genes and health, our society and feelings snag us. Or a sneaky resistance moves in like a fog regarding our good intentions; distractions, procrastination, or a certain forgetfulness follows our initial rousing attempts to remedy our everyday plight and respond to needs of our neighbor and even ourselves. I constantly fall back into old unproductive or overly self-indulgent habits.

Even more serious, we might not realize how we avoid looking at ourselves. Unconsciously we can easily be hiding certain distasteful but crucial realities, alongside our warmth and friendship, love, and concern for those in need. We remain unaware of those hidden, tyrannical attitudes of what we might call our inner Herod, which become visible for brief moments when we least expect.

There is a way forward when this happens (if we are not totally asleep). First is to jump back to our new ways with confidence. Get back into our canoe we fell out of. Like a child who falls over when learning to walk, it just cries and gets up or just stands up again with a huge smile. Trust that this is the only thing to do, rather than lament or feel sorry for ourselves and give up. The grace of the Holy Spirit that is abundantly present always and everywhere is just waiting to work with us.

The help we ultimately seek uniquely tailors itself to each of us as individuals. The grace of divine life in us is reflected in the living mirror of our soul as the daystar and dawning sun that is Jesus. This child still pierces through 20 centuries with open arms to shake us out of our old routine ways! He resonates with that hidden but innocent and trusting child hiding here in our hearts waiting and ready to cry out for our attention and a respected place in our daily lives! The Lord wants to help us feed our own inner being and care for our heart beating beneath our personalities and job descriptions. To be a healthy person entails nurturing and listening to what is hidden inside us.

All the Christmas story images beckon us to look for the wandering star within, to feel the still point of desire, as did the magi and the shepherds kneeling in deep feeling and respect, or the prodigal son kneeling with tears, and vulnerable, after returning to himself from his mindless travels. At least once, we might gently pay attention to the silence there, but then again, and yet again: it is not a dark emptiness, and it’s not a scary version of who I really am, but rather the embrace of divine presence and fullness, God as if a little child yet wise beyond ourselves.

Those wise men returned East as enlivened prophets of the good news they had sought; the shepherds excitedly ran and spread the word; the returning son found his home, in his joy at seeing the light.

We can look outwards with that light on our faces as well, and more than just once in a while. We can easily be kind as Christ was, for that is truly our own deepest self.