For Christmas

Give lovingly

A few weeks ago, I had a visit from a very wise woman.  She didn’t stay long.  She didn’t need to in order to share the gift that was hers to give.  As she was departing, she glanced over her shoulder and spoke a couple of words: Give lovingly, she said.  These words struck a cord and have resonated with me for the past four weeks or so. 

In preparation for the celebration of Christmas, I have witnessed many people already giving very lovingly to others throughout the Advent season.  First, there was the Jesse tree, complete with a number of tags, each one representing a gift that would be offered to someone.  Within days of their arrival, all the tags were gone, and the tree stood denuded of decoration until just recently; all the while, gifts arrived, delivered with great joy, the fruit of generous hearts.  Last weekend, a number of parishioners visited two of the homes for the aged.  There we sang carols and watched as the residents’ faces lit up.  It was as though the words of the prophet Isaiah were coming true right before my eyes: the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; upon those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, a light has shone.  This light was also evident on the faces of those who received gift baskets so that they could celebrate with their loved ones in these days.

Give lovingly, the woman had said.  Sometimes giving lovingly can hurt.  It calls us beyond our own comfort zones, and forces us to draw from a well which on occasion we are tempted to believe is about to run dry, yet it seems that if our hearts are in the right places, and our intentions are honorable, there is always more to be found in that reservoir, and through the mere act of giving, it seems to be refilled, even to the point of gushing over.  This is the lesson that we learn from the example of our God whose birthday we celebrate today.

The story of that night in Bethlehem has been told and retold throughout history, yet I wonder how often people have paused long enough to truly hear its words.  A census was being taken, so by order of the governor, everyone was on the move.  Joseph and his betrothed too had to travel to Bethlehem (not an easy task for a woman who was about to give birth).  To add insult to injury, there was no room at any of the inns for them to lay their heads, so they were forced to find lodging in one of the stables, which admittedly might very well have been more sanitary than many of the inns themselves.  Surrounded by the sights and sounds of animal life, God’s ultimate act of giving lovingly came into the world.

When my niece was born (three years ago) her parents learned how to wrap her in blankets so that she could keep warm.  I watched them wrap her up, and marveled at the procedure which resulted in her looking like a caterpillar wrapped in a cocoon.  I finally understood then what Mary must have done when she wrapped her newborn son in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger. This too was an act of giving generously, caring for the newborn who she loved so much but who in turn was and is the author of all love.

As Joseph and Mary gazed in wonder upon their newborn son, and even as they were perhaps uttering a prayer of thanks for the safe delivery, the appearance of the glory of our great God was already being announced by angels to shepherds, the poor outcasts of society.    Here too there is a lesson to be learned: God shares the gift of his divine wisdom with all who would listen, including the poor, the destitute, the marginalized and the needy.  Often it is through their eyes that we are able to most profoundly witness God’s presence among us, and so I leave you with a question: What if this Christmas, we paid particular attention not to the visible trappings that surround us and compete for our attention, but to the little miracles that might so easily be ignored?  Would we then learn a lesson or two about what it truly means to give lovingly?