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Sts. Joseph & Paul Catholic Church |
Homily Archives | |
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Christmas
In the forests of Provence in southern France, people tell a story on this Holy Night that goes like this: Once, four shepherds stood in the pasture, minding their own business, watching over their flocks, when, from out of nowhere, an angel appeared – there may have been several angels, maybe even a choir of angels. Anyway, as this bevy of angels appeared on this night, they frightened the sheep, and pretty much just annoyed the shepherds, with their singing of “Glory to God in the highest!” But
these angels came to those shepherds to bring Good News. In response
to that news – and upon the urging of the angels – the shepherds
traveled to a little town called Bethlehem. The town was far enough
away that the shepherds had never been there before, but close enough
that they had heard of it. It was also close enough that the shepherds
could walk there, which was a good thing since walking was their only
mode of travel. The shepherds traveled to Bethlehem to see a child. Since they were going to see a newborn, the shepherds took gifts with them. One of the shepherds took eggs. Another carried bread and cheese. A third shepherd brought wine. However, the fourth shepherd brought nothing at all. The shepherds found their destination; some have described it as a stable, but, really, it was more of a cave. The first three shepherds met Mary and Joseph and offered their gifts of eggs, bread and cheese, and wine to them. The shepherds talked to the young couple, asking Mary how she was doing, commenting on the coziness of the cave and how nicely Joseph had prepared it, and discussing the beauty of the starlit night. The shepherds congratulated Mary and Joseph and told the couple that, if they needed anything further, they only had to ask. Of course, none of the shepherds really knew what they might possibly be able to offer, but it seemed like a nice thing to say to these new parents. As the shepherds prepared to leave, they notice that the fourth shepherd – the one who hadn’t brought anything with him on the journey – was missing. They searched high and low, up and down, inside and outside, looking for the fourth shepherd. Finally, someone peeked through the blanket hung up to protect the newborn from drafts, and there they saw him. He was kneeling beside the crib, holding the child in his arms. As he knelt there with this child in his arms, he invited the other shepherds to come closer, but they were afraid to do so. He held out the infant for one of his brother shepherds to hold, but the shepherd threw up his hands, saying he was too unsteady; the baby might squirm, and he might drop the baby. He offered the child to another of his brother shepherds to hold, but he, too, put up his hands, saying he was too uncertain; the baby might cry, and he did not know how to comfort a crying baby. He offered the child to the third of his brother shepherds, but he also threw up his hands, saying he was too frightened; the baby might mess his diaper, and he did not know how to change a diaper. So the fourth shepherd knelt near the crib, continuing to hold the child, regardless of whether he squirmed or cried or needed to be changed. I would really like to approach Christmas like the fourth shepherd, who took the child out of his crib and held him in his arms. But in all honesty, I probably approach Christmas more like the other shepherds, who were too frightened to hold the child. I can see that I approach Christmas with far more uncertainty than I approach Ash Wednesday, when we acknowledge our sins with a dusty smudge of ashes on our foreheads; with far more uncertainty than I approach Holy Thursday, when we fall to our knees to wash another’s feet as a sign of service; with far more uncertainty than I come to Good Friday to reverence the folly of the cross. But before the cross, there was the crib. The wood of the crib became the wood of the cross. I believe that I can easily hide my fear behind Christmas. We can easily hide behind the gifts and the decorations, behind the idle conversation, behind the cheerful carols and delicious food. But to gain the true meaning of Christmas and to understand what God has given to us, we must step out from behind the tinsel and the lights, approach the crib, pick up the child, and accept his love. I believe that difficulty accepting this love is the real reason I find Christmas difficult to approach with certainty. Because in accepting God’s love, I would accept that God sees me just as I am – fragile and wounded and needing to be held myself. But, if we took the risk – if we took the child from his crib and let the child do what children do, simply love us – we would find our salvation. In that crib, in that manger, the place where animals feed, we will find our healing food. We approach Christmas with uncertainty because we know that to take this child in our arms, we must also be willing to grow with Jesus and become the true love that Christians are to become. When we take this child in our arms, we will love as he loved, forgive as he forgave, heal as he healed, and offer charity as he offered charity to us in his very self. According to the legend of the shepherds, the fourth shepherd spent the entire night, sitting near the cradle with the child resting in his arms. As for the other three shepherds, no one really knows what happened to them!
sdrose@bellsouth.net |
