December 25, 2020
Paulist Fr. Rich Andre preached this homily for the “Blue Christmas” Mass––a Mass specifically intended for people who are lonely or grieving during the holidays––on December 24, 2020 at St. Austin Catholic Parish in Austin, TX. The homily is based on Isaiah 9:1-6; Psalm 96; Titus 2:11-14; and Luke 2:1-14.
No matter what your original plans were for celebrating Christmas, we are glad that you are joining us, either in person or online. Until a week ago, I had envisioned that we would be taking full advantage of our new high-tech lighting system to create a subdued mood for this Mass. But since there’s a delivery delay on a part for our lighting panel, all we have to work with is two light switches and an extension cord. But hey, it’s fitting for 2020, right?
Even if we were not guided here tonight by a miraculous star, something has drawn us here on this holy night. And at this Christmas Mass, we pray to experience God’s love in the birth of Jesus Christ, the light of the world. His name is Emmanuel, which means “God is with us.” Let us take a moment to sit in the stillness, to gaze on the manger scene.
After living frugally for the first few years after college to pay off my debts, I decided that it was time to buy a nativity set. As I explained to my friends at work, I didn’t want something fancy; I just wanted something that was either ethnically accurate or ethnically ambiguous. Apparently, this conversation was the first time that one of my colleagues, a well-educated, 50-ish Christian, realized that Jesus of Nazareth was Middle Eastern and that Mary probably didn’t have blonde hair.
How can we miss such basic details about Christmas? Nativity sets did not become popular until the year 1223, when St. Francis of Assisi was inspired to create a living manger scene. St. Francis had wanted to emphasize the humble, ordinary circumstances in which Jesus was born. To be clear: there is nothing wrong with nativity figures that make Mary, Joseph, the shepherds, and the stable itself look neat and clean: the beauty of these sets reflects the reverence people have for the Christmas story… but we’ve strayed away from the original purpose of that living manger scene in 1223.
If we think about Christmas from a certain perspective, it doesn’t make sense. God’s perfect plan for the salvation of the world was to be born into a precarious situation – to an unwed mother, to her bewildered fiancé, in circumstances that prompted the Holy Family to run in fear for their lives. Mary and Joseph probably felt as if they were starting their life as parents as complete failures.
Many of us feel as if we have failed in the year 2020. We’ve cancelled plans. We’ve worked harder than ever but have less to show for our efforts. We face unemployment and financial ruin. For those who have had extra time, we’re astounded that we haven’t accomplished more. We have less control of our circumstances than at any other point in our adult lives. The grief is inescapable. Almost every day now, someone I know loses a loved one to COVID-19.
2020 has forced us to wrestle with our religious beliefs, too. Can a loving God allow such tragedy to affect the world, … and does that same God compel the worldwide scientific community to work in unprecedented unity to find a vaccine? Can we be Church when we cannot gather together, … or does “being Church” mean something more fundamental than phyical proximity? How can we be sacramental people if we cannot touch one another, … or have we overly limited our understanding of how God’s grace operates in the world?
Remarkably, it was a group of shepherds who first received the good news of Jesus’ birth. In the time of Mary and Joseph, being a shepherd was a very hard job. Shepherds led lonely lives, out in the weather 24/7, in dirty, smelly conditions. Most people questioned the morals of shepherds, presuming that no one would choose such a hard way of life unless they had no other options.
Almost all of us gathered here tonight can relate to those shepherds – be it the monotony, the financial hardships, or the long darkness. And it is unto us that the angels announce the good news: an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger, with a name meaning “God is with us.”
The message of Christmas is this: God knows our pain. God knows our suffering. But no matter the pain we feel, no matter the losses we experience, we are not alone. But when things seems to be at their worst, God can do something seemingly insignificant that will transform the world. The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. God is with us.
Throughout the year, many of our most devoted parishioners have ventured to Mass once or twice, because they miss receiving the Eucharist. They come forward in the communion line, with tears streaming down their faces, overwhelmed to be assured in this year of little to no human contact, in this year of so much pain and loss, that they are not alone. They hold out their hands, in reverence and trembling, to receive God’s very self.
“The Answer” – lyrics by Corrinne May, melody (THAXTED) by Gustav Holst
I believe You are the answer to every tear I’ve cried
I believe that You are with me,
My rising and my light.
Give me strength when I am weary
Give me hope when I can’t see
Through the crosses I must carry
Lord, bind my heart to Thee
That when all my days are over
And all my chores are done,
I may see Your risen Glory
Forever where You are.
We don’t have the answers, but we don’t need to. God is with us.
We can’t save the world, but we don’t have to. God is with us.
No one forces us to participate in Jesus’ saving mission, but nothing can stop us from volunteering to do so. God is with us!
By being born into our world, Jesus Christ has already guaranteed that the universe that will eventually be reconciled to God’s original plans for it. This Christmas, whether we attend Mass in person or we choose to participate from home, let us allow God’s grace to enter into our very bodies and do its transformative work. Our job as disciples is simply to trust that in everything we do, God is with us.