Christmas arrives and families come from near and far to gather. Family members become Santas who distribute “presents” to one another against the backdrop of specially prepared food that makes everyone gain weight at this time of year. Churches see their pews fill with persons seldom or never seen in the congregation during the year. More often than not, “a good time is had by all” when gathering as families in their mother churches. Their experience is just what God, the Divine Doctor, ordered. We are all better off because of the experience. And yet, once the holiday is over, attendance at Mass drops back down to a pre-Christmas level.
For that one day, however, people experience a sense of belonging, inspiration, hope, and faith. They are recipients of the grace Jesus intended to impart when the sacraments were first experienced. For example, the year-round daily and Sunday Masses are, theologically, where Bethlehem is to be found. Just as the “manger” was (as the song states) “no crib for a bed.” It was a feeding trough—where animals fed. The association of Jesus was associated with the feeding through the manger, so this association spilled over into the Eucharistic “table of the Lord” where generations of Christians were fed. And just as the birth narrative informs us that the baby was named “Emmanuel” or “God with us,” so the “table of the Lord” is where the “real presence” of Christ reminds us that the Risen Lord is present there in the “sacrament” (the visible presence of an invisible reality).
The religious images of Christmas, surprisingly, are only found in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke. Mark and John say nothing about the birth of Jesus, or the Wise Men or Herod, or no room in the inn. With 2 Gospels not mentioning anything about the early life of Jesus, we see that these writings are not biographies. They are theologies—offered by 4 different authors who are trying to communicate the meaning of who Jesus is and why he came among us.
The richness of this story’s imagery, and the theology it teaches, can be endlessly tapped by each of us. The tale told about Joseph and Mary registering as part of the census takes us to be “counted”—symbolizing our being counted come judgment day when God asks how we’ve lived our lives. The tale tells of us taking roads to new life—to find nourishment for our life journey. Primarily, we are told which star to follow in life—as it gives us the guiding light we need to live our lives the best we can. Other stars might beckon—such as power and wealth—but there is one star that shines the best way to take.
On the surface, the Bethlehem story reports the birth of Jesus and is embellished with the arrival of kings and sheep and angels. On one of its deeper levels, its story is also about each of us. It’s about a God who so loved the world and so loved YOU—that creation was not complete without your presence in it. Jesus affirmed the natural world by becoming part of it—and so embraced yours and my individual creation—you and I with our weaknesses and strengths and idiosyncrasies of behavior, our likes and dislikes—in short, our uniqueness.
Not until St. Francis of Assisi (1181-1226) did Christians make representations of Bethlehem by crafting Nativity scenes, or creches, that depicted Mary, Joseph, Magi, animals, and a stable. Ever since that time, we’ve had visual aids helping us see ourselves in the scene and see the many messages God revealed to us in the narrative as a whole. For example, are we a king like the despicable Herod (who killed half of his children and several wives). Are we envious like him–of another king taking our place in the neighborhood, and so lie to the Magi in asking them to tell him where Jesus was found? He did not want to join them in welcoming the new child, but instead wanted to eliminate the potential rival. The elements of the story make us evaluate whether we are Herod-like or Magi-like in welcoming people.
Or are we like Joseph—about whom we know practically nothing—and do we simply live our lives, anonymous in the eyes of the world, doing our best—and successfully raising a son? This Joseph and wife Mary—like Josephs and Marys in Hemlock and Merrill, help show us “the Way” in which we are to live our lives. They knew the experience of seeking shelter and being told there was no room in any inn for them. They relied on their wits to find a place to stay. They did the best they could—just as the little donkey that carried Mary did what it could:
Just a little donkey,
but on my back I bore
The one and only Savior
the world was waiting for.
Just a little donkey,
but I was strong and proud—
I gladly carried Mary
through the chaos of the crowd.
I brought her to a stable
where she made a tiny bed…
A place for baby Jesus
to lay His little head.
I pray the world remembers
that special Christmas night
When just a little donkey
carried Heaven’s Precious Light.
Scripturally, we don’t know how many Magi came to the birth, if any. After all, the theological point of their presence is that all persons in power will eventually have to bend their knees to the Risen Christ—and that wise men and women STILL seek him. Deep in their hearts, they know that His authority is like that of an infant compared to an adult. And this reminds us that we who “know the score” in life are really like infants in need of everything (when God looks upon us). This is why a baby SHOULD signal to us that WE are infants needing God’s care guidance and affection. We may seem to the world that we are mature and accomplished, but in God’s eyes—we are the one in the manger.
So whenever you see Gospel elements of the Christmas story—those elements are intended for YOU. They remind us of who God is and who we are. If a given thought or image stays in mind—stay with that thought or image. God may have sent that seed of reflection your way—so that you might grow, as Jesus did, “in wisdom and understanding.”
The stable, it is said, was just a cave, a shelter for animals and some straw.
–A cave as was the common shelter of our ancestors who shared the common earth.
Somewhere in time we lost our love for caves.
We instead sought the stars—and not unwisely—for there is truth in them, also.
But when the light of the world chose a place for birth to give us hope in our darkness, it was a cave he chose—leading us there by a star—in order for us to find the birth of stars within.