Festive trappings are not whole story of Christmas

Editorial printed on 24 December 2007

Only when we find time to reflect, as Mary did, will we be then able to answer for ourselves the question 'who is this child?'

In the lead-up to Christmas, it is tempting for comment-ators to dust down previous comments on the growing commercialism of the Christmas season. It is true that the beginning of this season seems to start earlier each year, but somehow the essence of what is celebrated manages to transcend all the trappings that surround it.

The contrast in our day between the trappings and the essence of Christmas has spanned the passage of time, reaching back even before the birth of Jesus Christ in Bethlehem. Foretelling the Saviour's birth, the writings of the Old Testament Prophet Isaiah echo the contrasting expectations of what the Messiah's coming would bring.

While many of the people of Israel waited in hope for the emergence of a political and civic leader, the prophet in fact was speaking of a very different reality -- the coming of 'Emmanuel' (Is 7:14); the One who would lead them into a deeper relationship with the God who had promised "I will be your God and you shall be my people".

The early Christians also struggled to comprehend the true meaning of the Saviour's lowly coming. How can it be that a baby's birth in Bethlehem has drawn us into the whole mystery of God's relationship with humanity? Who is this child of whom the angels spoke to the shepherds: "Today a Saviour has been born to you, He is Christ the Lord" (Lk 2:11)?

The first teachers of Christian faith grappled with these questions of "who is Jesus Christ" and indeed it took several ecumenical councils before faith replaced debate on the person of Jesus Christ, Mary's Son. It is worth remembering that our questioning of faith is not quite so new -- for mystery always opens new doors.

Artists

By the time the Church had agreed its beliefs and doctrines, it was the turn of the artists to muse upon this mystery. On countless canvases there have been etched scenes of the child in the manger, as told to us, particularly in the gospel of St Luke. All these artists have tried to express their own unique understanding of who this child might be.

One of the more expressive, and perhaps most theological, is that painted by one of the lesser known of the Renaissance artists, Federico Barocci, now to be found at Museo del Prado, Madrid. His stable is standard -- the central characters are in place; even the oxen get their role to play. But what makes this painting so striking is that there is just one source of light. There are no shepherds' lanterns, no star above nor angelic glow. The only light is that radiating from the face of Christ, echoing the dogma of the Creed that Christ is "light from light". In this very moment, the ancient words have been fulfiled -- "let your face shine on us O Lord and we shall be saved"(Ps 79.19).

The light falls mainly on Mary as she gazes on her child with a look of great tenderness and love. This reflects the comment of Luke in his gospel that "Mary treasured all these things and pondered them in her heart"(Lk 2:19). What mother or father does not look on their new-born child with wonder and awe and love.

The example of Mary pondering and wondering is something all could profitably imitate. Only when we find time to reflect, as she did, will we be able to answer for ourselves "who is this child?" And, as Mary found, it is a pondering that is sometimes tinged with pain and isolation.

Christ's coming was witnessed by few. In his going, few of his followers found the courage to walk His final journey. Yet, it is in the One whose coming was unheralded and whose going was so brutal that we are invited to find purpose and meaning to life. The light that radiates from the face of Christ does not remove our pain. Instead, His presence in our midst makes that pain not only bearable but even the place where we are saved.

Humanity

In his beautiful new encyclical 'Saved by Hope', Pope Benedict XVI tells us that it is in our suffering that we encounter Jesus Christ, who suffered with us in His humanity and who now joins us in our pain and carries us with love (n 39).

We have much to ponder in our own country, much to ask about where we are and who we have become. The news headlines, on a daily basis, bring word of sad and pointless deaths -- especially among the young -- of murders and shootings, of violence and addictions. Do we risk the danger of becoming tone deaf to the basic understanding of what is right and good, what is evil and sinful? Thankfully, this is not the whole story and Christmas time is an important opportunity for us to see the beauty in what is good around us.

There are many who take seriously their faith and the obligations it evokes. There are many who believe that all men and women of every race and religion belong to the family of God and seek to act out this belief in their daily lives. Drawing inspiration from their faith, they seek -- and sometimes struggle -- to make moral and religious principles the motivating force of their lives, leaving aside utilitarian and selfish norms which only limit our God-given potential. That which is trivial and banal can never ultimately fulfil our hopes.

On this feast of Christmas, we are invited to take a moment, wherever we may be, to do as Mary did -- to gaze upon the radiant light from the face of Christ, to reflect on the hope that is promised by the birth of a child with the name 'God is with us'.

The questions that He asks of us re-echo in every age -- the prophets and theologians; the artists; the saints; and the sinners. Some replied "we have no king but Caesar", while others found meaning and direction in proclaiming "He is Christ the Lord". Many will find their own answers in this festive season by deeds as ancient as the Nativity, but ever new -- celebrating faith, cherishing family and friends, looking forward to the year ahead with trust in Christ our Saviour.

Most Reverend Michael Smith is the Bishop of Meath

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