The Nativity of the Lord - Christmas
Among our Christmas decorations,
we
have seven different Nativity scenes
set
up throughout the rectory,
along
with four statues of the Holy Family
and
one large figure of the Christ Child—
not
to mention that there’s at least one manger to be found
in
each of our four parish churches.
So
it’s not much of an exaggeration for me
to
claim to be an expert observer of Nativity sets.
And
carefully looking at all of these
and
many other Nativity scenes over the years—
especially
the older ones—
a
person could easily get the impression
(and
I mean no disrespect here to my infant Savior)
that
Jesus was a pretty big baby.
Have you ever noticed that?
Life
experience tells us that newborns
are
rather tiny, fragile creatures…
…but
so often in our depictions of the Christmas story
we
have a child who’s simply all out of proportion
to
be the just-delivered babe
of
the woman depicted in the statue
kneeling
right beside him.
Why is the baby Jesus all out of scale?
One
reason, no doubt,
is
that he’s the big player in the
scene.
It
was a common principle of religious art in earlier ages
that
the most important characters
would
be depicted much larger than all the rest.
But
I think the explanation
runs
much deeper into the human psyche.
We don’t like to be little.
It
starts when we’re physically little—when we’re children.
I
think most of us can recall how much it would sting
to
be told that you were “too little”—
whether
it was too little play with the older kids,
too
little to do whatever the grown ups were doing,
or
too little to go on that special ride at the fair.
And
that continues into adulthood:
not
wanting to be little, not wanting to be overlooked,
we
frequently shun playing a minor part.
We
aim to land the big job,
which
will mean a big bank account and then a big house.
We’d
like to be a big deal—
in
our own circle of friends, at least,
if
not in our community, or the country,
or even
on a worldwide stage.
We
don’t like to be little.
And
if the Only Begotten Son of God
is going to come from heaven to earth to live as one of us,
we
don’t like the idea of him being too little, either.
Our
Catholic faith tells us that, when he comes again,
the
Lord Jesus will do so in great power and glory.
But
when the kindness and generous love of God
first
appeared in human flesh,
he
didn’t make a big, splashy entrance.
In
fact, the sign announced by angels
and
which shepherds sped in haste to see—
an
infant who lay sleeping in a hidden nook of a minute town—
was so ordinary, so small,
that
it could have quite easily gone unnoticed altogether.
And
it did go unnoticed by many—and still does.
Especially as
we celebrate Christmas in this Jubilee Year of Mercy,
it’s
essential that we acknowledge the littleness
which
God so willingly embraced
when his Son was born of the Virgin Mary.
when his Son was born of the Virgin Mary.
For one things,
we’re challenged to renew our efforts during
this Holy Year,
to
extend mercy to others:
to
care for our neighbors in their physical need
for
things like food and safe shelter;
to
tend to their deep spiritual needs, as well;
and
even to forgive those who have wronged us.
Pope
Francis often speaks of his longing
for
a “revolution of tenderness” in the Church.
If
that’s going to happen,
then
we need to have eyes for the little ones.
Jesus
said we actually serve him
whenever
we serve the least of his brothers
and sisters.
Our
words and actions must tell them they’re not forsaken.
We see
Christ’s face in theirs.
You and I are also invited
to experience God’s mercy firsthand
during this Extraordinary Jubilee Year.
to experience God’s mercy firsthand
during this Extraordinary Jubilee Year.
But
in order to experience the grace of Divine Mercy,
humility
is called for:
we must become little
ourselves.
It's with good reason that we kneel this morning
before
a manger where livestock feed,
and kneel at every Mass before the altar
where
Jesus comes in Sacrament that we might be fed:
it’s
so that we can make ourselves small
before
the immense mystery of the Incarnation—
that
God was once born as a tiny, helpless child
and
comes to us still under the appearance of a little white Host.
It’s
in our tininess, in our weakness,
that
the surpassing strength of the Lord’s mercy
can
most clearly shine through.
When
approaching God, littleness isn’t a liability at all;
instead,
it’s a great asset.
What
the shepherds saw in Bethlehem
was
a newborn child too small, too poor, too insignificant
to really
attract any notice.
And
that, paradoxically,
must
have been the source of their amazement:
that
this otherwise apparently ordinary birth
was heralded by choirs of angels;
was heralded by choirs of angels;
that
these shepherds themselves,
who
worked on the edge of the village
and
lived on the fringes of society,
would
be the first privileged recipients of such good news;
that
this tiny baby is none other than Christ and Lord.
In this
Year of Mercy,
make
a commitment to keep your eyes open
to
see God in the least among us.
And learn from Jesus to walk the path of humility:
fear not to be little before him
fear not to be little before him
who became so small for us.
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