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PAGE 5—December 19, 1974
The Mystery and Magic of Christmas
BY REV. CARL J. PFEIFER, S.J.
I remember when I lost the Christmas spirit.
I was about 11 years old. We had just finished
decorating the Christmas tree. The tinsel
shimmered like icicles, the ornaments glistened
with the reflections of the colored lights. I sat
staring at the colorful tree. I expected
something to happen inside me like in
Christmases past. But nothing stirred. The
magic of Christmas just wasn’t there anymore.
A dull, empty feeling replaced the expected
excitement. Warm tears slowly blurred the
sparkling colors. I had lost the Christmas spirit.
I deeply felt what I had already learned
earlier. There was no Santa Claus. No
bell-ringing sled with prancing reindeer. No
need to worry about the chimney or yearn for
snow. The red stockings would be filled by
ordinary human hands. Christmas was just
another holiday with a big meal and friends
dropping in. .The magic of Christmas was gone.
I thought it was lost forever.
In a sense I guess I was right. Nothing can
really replace a child’s excitement at visiting the
department store Santa, at shivering with
expectation when put to bed on Christmas eve,
and at bursting with eagerness to see what
Santa had brought.
Gradually, however, I began to discover that
the real meaning of Christmas was more
mysterious and exciting than what I knew as a
child. The childish excitement remained lost for
me, but the marvel, the mystery, the wonder of
Christmas began to fill the void. In fact the real
meaning of Christmas was more unbelievable
than what I had ever believed about Santa
Claus.
Christmas means that within and beyond the
sometimes cold, often cruel, very real world of
daily experience is Someone who deeply cares
about planet earth and each individual on it.
Christmas says simply that God is so totally in
love with humans that He decided to join us as
a brother. Christmas means that we can meet
Him in our every experience. Christmas reminds
us that all of reality has been touched and
graced by a God who entered our world as a
man and remains with us “always and
everywhere.” That is more amazing than
anything in my early childhood Christmas
magic.
Matthew and Luke seem lost for words in
trying to convey the incredible reality that took
place in the town of Bethlehem nestled in the
Judaen hills not far from Jerusalem. To read
their Gospel stories of Jesus’ birth (Mt. 1-2; Lk.
1-2) is almost to reenter the childhood magic of
Christmas - singing angels in the night sky,
simple shepherds hearing voices in the still
fields, mysterious wise men following a star out
of the East. It is as if the writers were trying to
stretch human language to its limits to reveal
the most unbelievably good news mankind had
ever heard: “God so loved the world that He
sent His only Son . . . bom of a virgin . . .
wrapped in swaddling clothes . . . lying in a
manger ... in Bethlehem of Judea.”
I believe that. I believe it in spite of the
frightening evidence to the contrary in a world
torn by hatred, agonizing with starvation,
hurting with inflation, and sometimes seeming
tired of the struggle. As I read the morning
paper and watch the evening news I find mostly
bad news about a world at odds with itself,
about people bent on hurting each other. I
can’t prove to anyone that with us in the
struggle against evil is a powerful God who
cares enough to struggle in our midst as one of
us.
But each Christmas I am reminded by the
Gospel stories, the many cribs and stables, the
familiar carols, the goodness of generous
people, the Midnight Mass, and the faith of my
parents and friends that God’s good news is
greater than all the bad news I know. The
Christmas joy and excitement of children helps
me realize more deeply how extraordinary our
ordinary lives really are - lives graced by the
presence of a loving God who in Jesus remains
with us.
I guess, as Jesus Himself once said, it takes
the child in all of us to believe that. “Unless
you become like a little child, you cannot enter
the kingdom of heaven.” I’m glad, looking
back, that I once enjoyed the magical vision of
Christmas as a youngster. That vision of reality,
together with its painful temporary loss
prepared me to believe something even more
marvellous, that on a still night some two
hundred decades ago, in a stable or cave in the
Judeaen hills, a Jewish child was born to a
young woman, and that child was God Himself.
I believe He is still with us, reaching out to us in
joys and sorrows, in the beauties and tragedies
of nature, in successes and failures, in work and
play, and most of all in each other when we
struggle to love each other as He loves us. I
think I’ve found the real Christmas Spirit.
“BUT EACH CHRISTMAS I am
reminded by the Gospel stories, the
many cribs and stables, the familiar
carols, the goodness of generous
people, the Midnight Mass and the faith
of my parents and friends that God’s
good news is greater than all the bad
news I know.” The Christ Child in the
manger is depicted in this creche on
display at Orly Airport, Paris. The
figures were made in Madagascar
(Malagasy Republic). (NC Photo by
CIRIC)
Know Your
Faith
(All Articles On This Page Copyrighted 1974 by N.C. News Service)
Kingdom of Peace
The Child Who
BY MARY AND JAMES KENNY
Because no one had room, there was a Child
who was born in a stable. A waiting child.
Waiting for the world to take Him in.
T)nce upon a time there was a child whom
nobody wanted. You see, this child was too old
to be cute. The child was crippled. Blind. The
child was mentally handicapped. The child was
black. And there was no room for him in the
families of men. Men’s hearts and homes were
already filled with the good things of this
world.
Alan is eight years old and will be celebrating
his first Christmas with his permanent family.
Because his original family was unable to take
care of him, he has been in foster homes since
early childhood. In Alan’s case there was little
prospect that he could ever return to his
biological family. The courts recognized the
facts in Alan’s situation and released him for
adoption. He was eagerly adopted by his foster
parents into his new, “forever” family.
Four-year-old Kim came to her family from
an orphanage in Vietnam. She is
half-Vietnamese and half-caucasian. After much
waiting, hoping, and paperwork, Kim arrived in
the United States last summer. She too will
celebrate her first Christmas in her “forever”
family.
Two-year-old Eric is a biracial boy who was
adopted this fall. He was welcomed, not only
by his parents, but by his four-year-old biracial
brother, also adopted, and by his two big sisters
who were born into the family.
The last three children described above
illustrate new trends in adoption. All three are
children who, without these new trends,
probably would not have permanent homes this
Christmas.
Traditionally adoption has paired childless
couples and infants with similar backgrounds
Seeing Christian Life
BY SISTER MARY MAHER, O.S.F.
In recent weeks I have begun to know a
young woman of the Jewish tradition who has
BY REV. LAURENCE P. DOLAN
The history of God’s people of the Old
Covenant was marked by centuries of war and
strife - from the invasion of the Promised Land
under Joshua to the campaigns of the kings,
through exile in Babylon and destruction by
the Roman Empire in 70 A.D. Understandably
one of their chief longings for
the age of the Messiah was peace: “Then the
wolf shall be a guest of the lamb, and the
leopard shall lie down with the kid; the calf and
the young lion shall browse together, with a
little child to guide them” (Isaiah 11:6).
The age of peace was ushered in at the birth
of Jesus. “Glory to God in high heaven, peace
on earth to those on whom His favor rests”
(Luke 2:14). The Prince of peace came to offer
that long elusive gift of peace. John the
Baptizer told people to prepare themselves for
this favor by renewal of life: “Reform your
lives! The reign of God is at hand” (Matthew
3:2). The same theme was repeated by Christ
throughout His ministry - the Kingdom of
Peace is for those who renew their lives in faith.
His final gift to His apostles was a wish for
peace: “Peace is my farewell to you, my peace
is my gift to you; I do not give it to you as the
world gives peace” (John 14:27). Have we ever
truly lived in this peace? Has the gift of
Christ, indeed the very mission of Christ,
gone unheeded these past 20 centuries? Have all
of our celebrations of Christmas, with its
hymns proclaiming peace, ever been effective?
As we approach this Christmas of 1974, we
ought to ask ourselves these questions.
Christianity, as much as Judaism before it,
has longed for peace, but has somehow never
found it. There has always existed the curious
mixture of the cross and the sword - even
though the Lord spoke directly against this
when about to be confronted by His own cross:
“Put back your sword where it belongs. Those
who use the sword are sooner or later destroyed
by it” (Matthew 26:52).
Somehow we have not heard the Word of
God properly, or we would have received His
gift of peace by now. It may be a question of
reliance -- perhaps we depend too heavily on
the kind of peace that the world offers, such as
it is. We see peace in terms of detente,
demilitarized zones, peacekeeping troops,
atomic arsenals that attempt to preserve the
“balance of power.” But that kind of “peace”
is not the gift wished for us by Jesus. “I do not
give it to you as the world gives peace.”
Christ’s peace is based on renewal of life.
Listen to Paul’s explanation of it: “It is He who
is our peace, and who made the two of us”
(Gentiles and Jews) “one by breaking down the
barrier of hostility that kept us apart. In His
own flesh He abolished the law with its
commands and precepts, to create in Himself
one new man from us who had been two and to
make peace, reconciling both of us to God in
one body through His cross, which put that
enmity to death.” (Ephesians 2:14-16)
Peace through reconciliation - that should be
our theme and our hope and our conviction this
Christmas. The Second Vatican Council spoke
of this kind of peace when it declared: “A firm
determination to respect other men and peoples
and their dignity, as well as the studied practice
of brotherhood, are absolutely necessary for
the establishment of peace. Hence peace is
likewise the fruit of love, which goes beyond
what,,rj jqstice can provide.” (“Pastoral
Constitution on the Church in the Modern
World,” par. 78)
When looking at the complexities of the
world situation, we can be tempted to throw up
our hands in despair and with this action we
abandon that “firm determination” which the
Council calls for. But we can start somewhere -
unless this Christmas is to pass like so many
others before it. We can become at peace with
ourselves as a good beginning. We can reconcile
ourselves with the Lord, turning our back on
sin and embracing His mandate of love.
We can work for peace and harmony among
those we are close to. Are all the members of
our family at peace? It is the Lord’s wish that
we be at peace - what can we do in a positive
manner this Christmas to bring it about? Could
we swallow our pride and become
peacemakers? Paul encouraged his people to do
this: “Get rid of all bitterness, all passion and
anger, harsh words, slander, and malice of every
kind. In place of these, be kind to one another,
compassionate, and mutually forgiving, just as
God has forgiven you in Christ.” (Ephesians
4:31-32)
If we would try for these (peace with
ourselves and within our families), we could at
least begin that “firm determination” to allow
Christ’s gift of peace to become a reality. May
we pray for one another this Christmas that at
long last we may respond to the call for peace
with lives that are renewed in the Kingdom of
reconciliation.
“UNDERSTANDABLY ONE OF
THEIR CHIEF LONGINGS for the age
of the Messiah was peace: ‘Then the
wolf shall be a guest of the lamb, and
the leopard shall lie down with the kid;
the calf and the young lion shall browse
together, with a little child to guide
them.”’ The lion and the lamb are at
peace in this 1973 UNICEF Christmas
card illustration by Andrew Murray.
(NC Photo courtesy UNICEF)
and physical makeups. But today, babies for
adoption are scarce. Contraception, abortion,
and the tendency for an unwed mother to keep
her infant have resulted in a dramatic decrease
in available infants. At the same time there are
children who wait years for a permanent
adoptive home. Older children who have
somehow been passed over for adoption,
mentally or physically handicapped children,
children of mixed race or of minority races, and
brothers and sisters who need to stay together
are the children who are available for adoption.
Often these children are in foster care or
institutional care. Yet every child needs a
permanent loving home, and the earlier in life,
the better. More and more agencies and
adoptive parents themselves are concerned
about the needs of these children.
In order to get waiting children and loving
families together, adoption agencies are taking
new approaches. The waiting children are often
older, the adopting parents frequently have
other children, and matching is disregarded.
The important consideration is to find the right
home for each child.
Adopting the older child is dramatically
different from adopting an infant. Even a
toddler who has been in a foster home or
institution before being adopted has had a
variety of experiences which he cannot express
or share with his new adoptive parents. Old
attachments must fade while new ones are
fashioned. This is not to say that such a child
cannot become a delightful, happy child. But it
may take a while.
Children coming from institutions or foster
homes often seem more distant or more
regimented than the average American child.
Nine-month-old Annie, who was right at the
crawling and exploring stage, would put
nothing in her mouth - not even a cookie.
Chris, another nine-month-old, was rigid and
unresponsive when her new parents held her,
embraced the Christian tradition. One day she
told me that a man that very day had paid her a
compliment which was like none other she had
ever received. The man had not told her the
strikingly obvious - that she is a beautiful
woman, one whose features artists try to
preserve in oil or stone. He had simply said to
her, “I think if Jesus’ mother looked like
anyone ; he looked like you.”
At a meeting not long ago I sat across the
room from this woman.
She was involved in a discussion that was
obviously painful for her. an effort to listen
with care even when the person speaking to her
seemed to block her presence by the need to
dominate (another of us 20th century
innkeepers who keep the Lord from being born
in our domain by our lack of room for others!).
At any rate, it struck me later how the sight
of this woman, so contemporary, crumbled up
all my old holy card images of Mary as the
passive, docile grace object with a blue robe,
Italian face and next to no spunk. I thought too
of the summer I spent trotting through Europe
looking at images of Mary in art and cranking
my head to find her in high church naves. I,
too, like most people, want a view in my spirit
of what Mary must have looked like - not out
of photographic curiosity nor the need for
image clarification. Somehow curiosity plays in
our human spirits so we can get pictures of
reality. And Mary has long been one whose
physical features were sought out because she
was the first who ever carried Christian life. I
need a picture, one for now that matches my
20th century vision of life. For I. like most
Christians have read books, maybe too many,
which catalogue the virtues of Christian life. So
when someone says the term “Christian life” to
me, I get weary for I quickly conjure up all the
virtues I ought to have but do not. It is a
discouraging venture; one that reminds me of
how as a child I used to read the Wards catalog
knowing 99 percent of the things there would
never be in my possession. “Christian life”
often brings up pictures of styles of behavior
Waits
and she viewed the whole world, even other
children and pets, with a sober, unsmiling stare.
One-and-a-half-year-old Sharon came to her
permanent home after four temporary homes.
On the first day she was overwhelmed by the
newness and. excitement of the change. By the
second day she withdrew into herself and
sobbed as though expressing a deep grief which
usually comes only with age and life
experience.
But if the early days of transition are painful,
time eventually brings a reward. For the older
adopted child clearly blossoms, and the change
to warmth and outgoingness is usually
dramatic. The sober stare turns into the first
smile. The rigid distant baby crawls into
Mommy and Daddy’s bed to snuggle. The
grief-stricken toddler launches into an absurd
exchange with her big brother:
Brother: Are you a doggie, Sharon?
Sharon: No.
Brother: Are you a turtle?
Sharon: I’m not a turtle. I’m scared of
turtles.
Brother: What are you, Sharon?
Sharon: I’m a butterfly.
Obviously all of us cannot adopt a child. But
this is a season when we can all stop and reflect
on the needs of homeless children.
And for those of us who have adopted a
child, we find our own adoption as children of
God an easy comparison.
Centuries ago a Child came into a family and
changed the course of the world. He gave
Himself to us forever.
For all of us, His birthday is a special time.
But for those parents and children who are
celebrating their first Christmas together as a
“forever” family, there is an exceptional
significance.
in Persons
more than pictures of persons of faith.
So it was enormously encouraging to look
across this full room and see a 1974 Semite
woman who looked strong and tender enough
to take on the unneat burden of bringing Life a
la donkey to a world that cared little -- so little
it afforded the first Christian life but a stable
for the celebration of its delicacy. Christian life
is a lot of things, I suppose, and now as
Christmas nears, those “things” that
characterize Christian life seem important not
to forget: strength, littleness, durability in
integrating sorrow, doubt, frustration into
stronger fabrics of human life. This young
woman was a cut of cinema verite, true life, and
I got a picture too of that kind of woman who
cared in the concrete, cared enough to express a
warmth of human hope into today’s raging
predecessor of flight to find shelter in a world
of pilgrimage.
The philosopher Wittgenstein gave us an
enormous challenge when he told us that we
should only use language that we can see in
concrete terms. We may not agree with that all
the way but it would be a fruitful venture for
all of us who progress into Christmas to try to
see in life itself what the term “Christian life”
is. This article is on “Christian life.” I can’t
draw that. You can’t draw that. Hallmark only
thinks they can draw it. But especially during
the Christmas season, it might be a good idea to
wait quietly enough to see someone who carries
the quality of Mary’s womanhood.
It might be a description in flesh that we
most need for the term “Christian life” these
days. It is not a bad guess anyway; the Father
did just that when He insisted we see His son in
flesh. (To so many that was the scandal.) Yet it
is a hard pedagogy to improve upon.
For myself, I think I see a bit more of what
Christian life is really about because I saw a
woman who carries the features of her
humanness with a remarkable strength and joy
that could only come from a warmth made
durable by reaching out all over caring for
others.