Christmas Eve 2010

About 20 years ago, when I was living in Memphis, Tennessee, a friend of mine invited me to visit her church. It was a Roman Catholic church called St. Patrick's and it was located just a few blocks from a very poor neighborhood, with acres and acres of dilapidated public housing projects, much like the ones you would see in the South Bronx and most other large cities in this country. The neighborhood had a lot of drug dealers and gang activity and occasional shootings. There were a lot of single mothers and grandmothers trying to raise children there, and a lot of children were growing under terrible circumstances.

I visited the church during Advent, and St. Patrick's had decided to reach out to the people living in the projects. They built a large nativity scene out of plywood, painted it, and then, each Sunday in Advent, they would carry another piece of it several blocks to the lawn of the housing project. The idea was that by Christmas, the scene would be complete.

People in that neighborhood loved it, but unfortunately, at night, it was knocked down and vandalized. But people just went out the next day and fixed it. This happened repeatedly that Advent---the figures would be knocked down and damaged at night, and in the morning they would be put up again and repaired. People even started taking turns guarding it.

That nativity scene was a sign to the people in that housing project that someone cared about them-they were not forgotten. Someone had taken notice of the harsh circumstances of their lives and had expressed love and solidarity with them. It was a sign of hope for them-that the world could be quite different.

That is what Christmas is to all of us: a sign that God has not forgotten us, but has taken notice of the circumstances of our lives and has come to us in love and solidarity. We may not live in housing projects, but all of us face harsh circumstances at times. We are all too familiar with the violence and suffering in the world and the pain and brokenness in our own lives.

In our youth group recently, the question was posed, "Why do we need a savior?" And with the wisdom of youth, one of the members responded, "to save us from ourselves."

We are the people who have walked in darkness. We are those who long to see, in the words of Isaiah, the boots of the tramping warriors and the blood-soaked garments burned, who wait in anguish for endless peace and justice for the poor of the earth. We too need a sign that the world, and we ourselves, could be quite different.

In the midst of our darkness, a Light has come. God has come to us, not, as we might have expected, with pomp and circumstance, not with wealth and political power, but in the same way we come into the world: as a naked, helpless squalling baby. I always smile when I hear expressions like "older than God," or "more money than God," since God in God's infinite wisdom chose to come into the world as an impoverished infant.

What could be more helpless than a human infant? And what could be more pitiful than this birth-to poor parents, far from home, all alone, in a stable, at night? And soon, this baby and his parents would face mortal danger from Herod's soldiers, who came to kill all male children born in a certain time period, because of a prophecy of a new king who would supplant Herod. Christ's birth was the equivalent of being born in the South Bronx, or the housing projects of Memphis.

Through this birth, we see clearly that God doesn't care about any of the things we spend our lives chasing: security, wealth, independence, power, approval, control. God cares only about love and the things that flow from love: justice and peace.

By coming into the world as a poor and helpless infant, God shows us that from the moment we are born, we already have the greatest gifts in the world: we are alive, and we are God's beloved. These gifts are free, and available to all. That is why the angel said to the shepherds, "I bring you good news of great joy for all people." You don't need money to buy love, in fact, all the money in the world cannot buy love. When it comes to love, we are all equal in God's eyes, just as we are equally naked and helpless when we are born. The world's practice of putting people on a scale according to their wealth or accomplishments is entirely contrary to the way God sees us.

We are God's holy people, precious in God's sight, not because of anything we have or do, but simply because we exist. Our mere humanity, without all the things we think we want or need, was and is enough for God.

The radical truth of Christmas is that love, not power or might, is the reigning force in the world. Herod's murderous rage, and the whole force of the Roman Empire were not enough to suppress the love that was born this night more than 2000 years ago. The intervening centuries of war and terror, oppression and injustice have not extinguished that light. In our time, the darkness of materialism, militarism, exploitation, greed and environmental devastation have not overcome the light of God's love.

And yet, God's love is vulnerable. God waits for each of us to respond to respond in love, just as a newborn infant waits for its parents to pick it up and care for it.

God's love is a free gift, but it is up to us to receive that gift in faith-to let Christ be born in our hearts, not just once, but over and over again. It is up to us to share God's love with other human beings and to work for a more just and peaceful world.

And when the world knocks down our faith, we are to patiently and faithfully put it up again, like the courageous people in the projects in Memphis 20 years ago. We gather together on this holy night to renew our faith, to gain strength and courage for rebuilding this broken world, and above all, to give thanks and praise to God, who came to us in love and solidarity and still lives in us and among us. Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace, goodwill to all.