While studying in Rome, we saw the streets and shops beautifully lit all through December. Reason: Christmas was a fantastic occasion for sales. People splurged. Shopkeepers rejoiced.
The four small c’s dominated: cakes, cards, cribs and carols.
Fine by themselves, but not really what Christmas is all about.
We do not know Jesus’ birthday. When Rome became Christian, an old Roman feast in honour of the Unconquered Sun (dies solis invicti)—meaning that even in the dark and cold of winter, the sun still shone, unconquered—was taken as Jesus’ birthday. The Gospels were not concerned about dates and places, but about Jesus’ message and the reality of His presence with us. People experienced Him as alive—as so many, of different religious persuasions do, even today.
Some of us like to boast of where we come from—and even pass disparaging comments about those from other places or backgrounds. As for Jesus, he not only did not belong to the ruling political or religious top brass; he had no famous hometown. He came from an insignificant, tiny village—with some twelve to twenty families—which most Palestinians did not even know. Those who did know, looked down on it. (Remember Nathanael’s snobbish retort to Philip: “What good can come from Nazareth?”) We know almost nothing about Jesus’ childhood, adolescence or youth. When he started preaching, his own neighbours took offense at his claims and wanted to kill him. It was like saying: “What the hell does he think he is? We know his family. Nice people, no doubt, but just working class.”
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God is not stupid. In his unlimited, unfathomable wisdom, He chose to become one of us. He came in the guise of a helpless baby born to a young woman who had no fan clubs or slaves. He chose—how very strange!—the path of powerlessness. The path of political and financial insignificance. Something that Paul and Francis of Assisi and Damien and Don Bosco and Mother Teresa would understand and embrace—but which “smart” politicians and businessmen (both in the world, and, sadly, in religious circles) abhor like the plague.
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This year’s Christmas is a great chance to celebrate really who Jesus is, and what he came for. A Christmas without glitter A Christmas noted for compassion and care.
This month’s MAGNET looks at people who show us how—people who are not trying to be in the news, but who are good news for others who do not seem to matter.
THREE SUGGESTIONS:
- Advent: Ask ourselves (as individuals and as families or communities): How far do I really believe in Jesus and want to live as He lived and taught? How far have I let Him come into my decisions and choices? Where do I keep him out?
- Greetings: Choose cards with the Holy Family, not reindeer and jingle bells! Make a list of the most significant persons in your life. Don’t’ simply forward a ready-make greeting, or send bulk emails! Take time to write (or audio-record or video-record) a loving, personal message to them. Can’t we take three minutes for each of our dear ones at least once a year?
- Christmas: What can I do to bring God’s compassionate closeness to those most forgotten? Food, school fees, blankets and medicines which the poor desperately need should certainly get priority over new dresses and special meals and fancy gifts for me and my family.
If our faith in Jesus makes no difference to our priorities and choices, especially in the way we treat people—with a preferential care for the weakest—it is only a meaningless decoration.
May we not be simply singers of Christmas carols, but sincere women and men who take Jesus seriously! Have a great, Christ-like Christmas!
Fr Joe Mannath SDB
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