A Christmas Eve reflection based on Luke 2:1-14
Recently I had to have the
battery in my watch replaced. So I went to my favorite jewelers, and while I
was waiting, the saleswoman asked if she could share with me the story of her
seven-year-old son. It seems that their church had just selected the cast of
characters for its annual Christmas play, and her son had been chosen to be
Joseph, an obvious honor for this young boy. Then, imitating her son’s
enthusiastic reaction upon hearing this wonderful news, she placed her hands
upon her heart, and smiling, shared his precious exclamation: “Oh, thank
you. I have waited all my life for
this!”
God, too, had waited not just a lifetime, but for all
eternity to become flesh within Mary’s womb and enter into the world of
humanity. Tonight, as we gather, we are invited to share in Luke’s account of
the nativity—a narrative deeply woven with social, religious, and political
significance. Luke writes especially for his Gentile and Christian audience,
highlighting that this divine child comes from humble beginnings, without any
signs of royalty or grandeur at his birth. Jesus is born during a journey, and
the first to celebrate his arrival are shepherds—marginalized figures whose
presence at the manger underscores that this child is meant for all people,
across all nations.
The Gospel paints a vivid scene: Mary and Joseph are
transients, much like the homeless found on city streets today. Mary, a young
woman living within a patriarchal society and under the rule of an occupying
power, brings her child into the world as so many disadvantaged people
do—without the safety and security of a home. Jesus’ birth, taking place under
such conditions, invites us to reflect on the profound humility and
vulnerability at the heart of the nativity story.
When Mary and Joseph finally arrived, they found Bethlehem
teeming with others who had also come to be registered. The expectant parents
searched for a place to stay, but every door was closed to them. At last, they
were shown to a place used as a shelter for animals, where they found refuge
among the village livestock. It was here, in these humble surroundings, that
Mary gave birth to her child. She wrapped him in swaddling clothes—a
traditional Palestinian practice for newborns—and laid him in a manger.
The first to receive the message of this miraculous yet
humble birth were shepherds keeping watch over their flocks in the fields.
These laborers, who occupied a low rung on the economic and social ladder,
hurried to Bethlehem after hearing the angels’ announcement. They found
everything just as the angels had described, Mary, Joseph, and the child lying
in the manger. Within that simple cave, the presence of the displaced couple,
the manger, and the shepherds together revealed a profound truth: God chooses
to enter into the world through the poor, the marginalized, the powerless, and
the oppressed.
However, if we listen between the lines of Luke’s account,
we will hear a foreshadowing of who this divine child will be as told through
the images, intimations, and figurative language in this sacred story.
This child, too, will one day ride a donkey into a crowded
city, seeking an inn with an upper room to celebrate the Passover. There will
be no straw-filled manger, but his whole life will be a sacred table of
welcoming and mercy, and he will name himself as bread, wine, the Way, the
Life, and a shepherd who is good.
Raised as a carpenter, he will be familiar with the feel of
the wood beneath his beaten body, remembering the smell of Joseph’s small shop.
He will be laid in the arms of his loving and faith-filled mother once again,
as he is removed from his cross. He will be wrapped in a linen cloth, much like
his swaddling clothes from his moments of birth; but now, they will embrace him
in his death. He will be laid in a cave-like tomb, not warm with the
breath of animals nor shielded by the loving protection of Joseph as he was in
the stable at Bethlehem.
Then, with an inconceivable and unfathomable mysterious
movement, God will bring forth a cosmic energy that will move away stones and
break through boundaries and fears, and God will raise Jesus as the Christ born
again in every heart of humanity.
Yes, even angels will gather once again upon his rising
from death to new life and will sing of his glory as Messiah, Savior, Emmanuel,
Wonder-Counselor, and Prince of Peace. Jesus will have waited for this all his
life!
This night’s story is familiar throughout the world,
cherished and re-enacted in countless countries. Children everywhere dress up
as shepherds, wise ones, Mary and Joseph, angels and innkeepers, sheep and
camels. Yet, we are left to consider: what does this story mean for all of us?
Each of us tonight is invited to reflect on our own
nativity story—recalling the images, details, visitors, and celebrations that
have shaped our journey. We are entrusted with carrying forward the dreams,
vision, and mission of our God. Our faith is not solely founded on the
emptiness of the tomb or the humility of the stable. Our hope does not depend
on angelic choirs or cosmic wonders in the sky.
But let it be known, “that the
mystery of the nativity is that love is made incarnate every time it deepens in
us.” As we grow in love individually, as a community, and as a people of God,
we make love more present in the world. “As Christmas is born again in each of
us, it comes forth again into the world.” No matter
where we live, work, play, grieve, or celebrate, the message and mystery of the
Incarnation cannot be brought out only once a year like the nativity set
decorations under our tree.
It is our daily challenge to accept the call to continue
God’s dream and vision for all humanity. And in the words of Pope Francis .
. . We are “to go forth and preach the Gospel to all: to all places, on
all occasions, without hesitation, reluctance or fear. The joy of the Gospel is
for all people: no one can be excluded.... That is what the angel proclaimed to
the shepherds in Bethlehem: ‘Be not afraid; for behold, I bring you good news
of a great joy which will come to all the people.”
Finally, since this is the season and night of story, let us become people of the story—stories of faith, hope, resilience, and love. As we continue to share in the Word, the breaking of the Bread, the cup of Wine, and the sign of peace, we prepare to return to our homes, guided by the light of the stars. For God has waited an eternity for us this night.
And so we pray . . .
“Light looked down and saw
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 the God of Light, The
Prince of Peace,
The King of Love, came down
and crept in beside us.”
(Rev. John Bell)
Jean Hinderer, CSA
Merry Christmas!
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