I’ll be home for Christmas.
It’s the stuff of songs, of sweet movies where the conflict is
resolved in two hours just as snow begins to fall; it’s the stuff of our
deepest longings and our most bitter disappointments. Since the day God closed
the gates on the Garden of Eden, we’ve been wanting to go home. To be home for
Christmas seems right and good.
And fraught with tension.
With the celebration of Christ’s birth, we are reminded that
Jesus communicates to us God’s desire to for us to come home, to live with him
forever in heaven. Jesus is the incarnation of the way home. However, when we
gather with our families to celebrate his birth, the joy of the season
frequently encounters the fallen reality of our world here on earth.
These people with all their faults — the people who share your
name, your heritage, your childhood bedroom — they are the very people for whom
God humbled himself in that manger so long ago. The son was born of Mary in
order to save your arrogant and angry brother, your petulant sister, your lazy
uncle, and yes, even the mean deadbeat who married your cousin. If you find
yourself bracing against what could be a contentious Christmas, remember the
real hero in the story. Jesus knew about all the crazy under your roof and
every other roof from here to eternity and he came to bring us all home.
And Jesus knew about you.
He still does. He knows exactly what you need for peace and joy
this Christmas, despite the imperfect setting where you celebrate. Jesus
celebrated that first Christmas in a barn teeming with messy creatures. Jesus
went first, so that we have a model for how to do Christmas with joy.
He was humble. So often, we clash with the people we’ve gathered
because we decide that we are superior — we know better, we know more, we’re
holier. What if instead — no matter our age or station in the family — we
approached Christmas with humility? What if instead of being eager to prove our
ourselves, we were open and curious and earnestly wanted to understand better
the people closest to us?
We find that our anxiety or stress is lessened considerably when
we take the posture of gathering; gather into yourself the stories of the
people you love. Be interested in their details, their questions. Christmas
dinner is not a contest. We weren’t put at the table to show people how right
we are and how wrong they are. Sometimes, we aim for conquest and we end up
crushing in precisely the instances where we should love. “Love … is marked by
humility; if we are to understand, forgive, and serve others from the heart,
our pride has to be healed and our humility must increase.” (“Amoris Laetitia”)
Why do we go home for Christmas? What compels us to return? It is
that desire we all have deep in our souls to be restored to the perfect garden
dwelling intended by the creator. We will not truly be at home on this side of
heaven. Instead, we return to the people God intended for us, the people he
hopes will be our co-laborers in his vineyard, the people who will provide
ample opportunities for our spiritual growth, just as we provide such for them.
We go home for Christmas in order to remember and to celebrate
the gift that God has given us. We go home to be welcomed by God just as the
forgiving father welcomed his wayward son. Despite our unworthiness, we enter
under the roof, and there, we have a choice. We can hold onto our pride and
keep on being our messy barn selves, or we can celebrate in the grand hall as
someone whom Christ himself has called.
We can hold grudges and resentments tightly and let them darken
our hearts and our moods. Or we can share the light of Christ — the light he
offers so generously — and let it illuminate Christmas at home.