The Nativity of the Lord (Christmas); 12-25-2023

Is 9:1-6.  Ps 96.  Ti 2:11-14.  Lk 2:1-14

Deacon Jim McFadden

         One of the stranger aspects of The Annunciation that precedes the Birth of Jesus is how the Archangel Gabriel addresses Mary  as “Hail, favored one!” (Lk 1:28b).  What will ensue is that she will be a teen mother, pregnant before her actual marriage to Joseph, and she will be destined to give birth in a cave or stable amongst barn animals.  She might be forgiven if she suspected that Gabriel was engaging in some angelic sarcasm.  Then fast-forward thirty-three years when she will be at the foot of the Cross watching her Son die an excruciating death among thieves before a jeering crowd.  How is all of that being “favored”?

            The whole Christmas story is full of enigma and violated expectations.  To begin with, the Creator of the entire cosmos with its billions of galaxies, who is absolutely self-sufficient who doesn’t need anything from anyone, chooses to become a creature, a human being.  The Alpha and Omega of cosmic history, is presented to us as a baby, delivered with all the messiness of childbirth without attendant doctor or nurses, but at a place smelling of dung.  As Bishop Barron once described the Incarnation, there is a Catholic joke here:  you either get or you don’t.  As we stand before this scene, if God can come here amidst utter deprivation and straw, he can come anywhere.  He can come into the messiness of my life.  If God came there at that stable in Bethlehem, he has come everywhere: there is no place or time that is God forsaken.

            If we pull back from the scene, an odd perspective kicks in.  The largest figures at that time—Caesar Augustus, governor Quirinius, King Herod—they’ve gotten smaller; indeed, they have disappeared.  The smaller figures—Mary, Joseph, the random shepherds—they loom large: Mary is the Queen of Heaven and Joseph is the patron of the Church, the mystical Body of his adopted Son, Jesus.  The baby Jesus, the smallest and helpless of figures, wrapped in protective swaddling clothes, will loom so large that he will blot out the sun and moon and fills the sky with song: “Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests” (Lk 1:14). 

            The Nativity story is rich in theological meaning, but more to it, there is a radical statement that is being made.  Jesus is given the name Immanuel, which means “God is with us.”  That means that Jesus is God in the flesh: he is much more than a prophet, a teacher, a healer—he is the human face of God.  The 2^nd Person of the Trinity has entered into the very bowels of human existence, not because he needs something, but simply for our sake: for our salvation. The implication is remarkable.  As St. Augustine reminds us, if you were the only person on this earth, the Son of God would have done everything, including dying, for your sake.  That means that there are no insignificant or pointless lives.  It means that Immanuel is with us every moment of our existence, which entails  that the ordinary events and choices that I make on an average day can carry eternal significance.  Why?  As St. Paul reminds us, “we move, lives, and have our being” in Christ Jesus.  It means that our sacred story has meaning and purpose—a life that’s encourages courage and self-giving generosity just like the Lord that we worship.    And, we can do that whatever desolates place we find ourselves. 

            The birth of Christ should be the source of hope, which is not the same thing as optimism, which is more a genetic disposition rather than a foundation of life.  Some of us, in contrast have to deal with a genetic affliction of depression, which can bath one’s life in darkness.  But, even in the midst of this Dark Cloud we can find glimpses of purpose, beauty, and glory and this too can serve.

            Sometimes we experience isolation and loneliness brought on by debilitating illness, such as chronic pain and degenerative disease.  God is there; God is with us.  In a shattered relationship or betrayal or a cancer diagnosis, God is with us.  He doesn’t abandon us if we go to the hospital or mental ward. In life or death, Jesus will never leave us or abandon us because He is Immanuel.

            Faith in Jesus does not release us from suffering, but it can bring deliverance from fear because we have a container, a Person, who can integrate everything in our life.    The Birth of Jesus means that every moment we are blessed to live, even in a difficult and shorted life, can be infused with God’s presence and ennobled by his calling.  Our hope comes to fruition on Christmas Day, which shines like the Star that guided the Magi and swells like a song chanted by monks and gospel choirs throughout the centuries, filling churches, cathedrals, and basilicas, and revival tents, but that song is most clear in our won hearts: God is with us!