“Advent is about God breaking into this world and breaking into our hearts- it is a season in which we await the curtain being rolled back between the heavenly and the earthly.” -Br. Mark Gregory D’alessio
“While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth and laid him in a manger, because there was no place in the guest room. Now in that same region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid, for see, I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.” -Luke 2:6-11
In past years, Christmas was mostly about family, presents, and making it clear how much I loved them all. It was pleasant and enjoyable but not such a big deal. It very reliably comes back around every year. Last year, it was mostly a repeat of previous years.
Spiritually, I had little interest in the sweet story of a baby’s birth; I wanted the adult prophet, mystic, and social reformer.
But this year, there is a different intensity in part because of the dark times we are living in. I realize our era is not so different from the world Mary and Joseph lived in. Many of us experience similar conditions 2,000 years later.
Joseph and Mary, an unwed woman, were fleeing the rule of a murderous tyrant, desperate to find a safe place for the birth. Jesus was not born under a pretty Christmas tree but in the real world of pain and oppression. God was breaking into the world, not in chariots of fire, directing lightning bolts at those who threatened his son, but in a barn among the hay and animals. The barn was in the equivalent of a poverty stricken slum.
It was the pagans from the East who recognized him with their gifts. And the lowly sheep herders who heard God speak that night.
This new intensity of Christmas was enhanced for me as I participated in the Worcester Area Mission Society’s distribution of supplies last Wednesday to the needy as 240 families came through, many with children, receiving hygiene packs, baby wipes, and diapers (I think it must have been three wise WOMEN who decided on these gifts.) As I worked with my team of shepherds, I could not help wondering if Joseph and Mary were among those in line. I sat in the privileged warmth of the building while they all braved a horrific rainstorm to receive small gifts of supplies they needed. Many were quite drenched by the rain. Homeless and ‘housing insecure,’ just like the holy family. Tiny ones in carriages while mom and dad carried everything they could handle in bags. Each one gave me their “ticket,” signifying if they got one or two packs of wipes. Smiling, grateful for whatever was being handed out. One man gave me a ticket, and I passed him a packet of wipes, mildly disgruntled; he held up his hand, showing four fingers, and said, “Quattro baby.” I responded, shaking my head, “One ticket, one package only.” We are trying to distribute fairly to a very large group. But, I thought, if you have four kids in diapers, I’ll gladly give you the whole box. He took has single pack and quietly left.
A mass of humanity came through the line much less fortunate than I; a mass of humanity which we don’t care for well in a capitalist economy; a mass of humanity, many of whom may be facing deportation in the new administration. Rulers like Herod still trouble the vulnerable.
We are doing our best on this day to distribute what we have as fairly as possible.
But what I think this mass of humanity does not know is that I, a lowly volunteer, not much more than a shepherd, was privileged to give to those whom Jesus would later call “the least of these.” And in giving to them, I was giving to him. I have never received a better Christmas gift.
And there was even one more delightful twist. After three hours of this, my arms were tired, and we had run out of hygiene packets. I began thinking, “Wow, we are almost done. I want my lunch.” But one of the organizers went back into the storage room and, like multiplying the fish and the loaves, found fifty more packets and five boxes of baby wipes. Not only did I get to serve ‘the least of these,’ but I got to participate in a miracle. Life doesn’t get better than this.
Christmas will never be quite the same. I am so blessed, a new experience of Christmas and a miracle of splitting the loaves all in one morning. And my plan is to return to the Mission societies distribution day every chance I get. I can experience several miracles and Christmases in 2025 as the curtain between the earthly and heavenly continues to roll back.
