Fr. Russ's Homily - Christmas Day - December 25, 2009

Today we celebrate the feast of Christ-among-us. A beautiful and popular legend in French Canada holds that at midnight on Christmas a mysterious spirit of peace prevails throughout the world- a spirit so strong that even the cattle in stables and the deer in the forest fall to their knees in adoration. Shakespeare referred to this mysterious peace of Christmas in the opening scene of Hamlet:
Some say that whenever the season comes
Wherein our Savior’s birth is celebrated
The bird of dawn sings all night long;
They say that no spirit can walk abroad.
No planet strikes,
No fairy takes,
No witch has power to charm,
So hallowed and gracious is this time.
For most of this day is an island of calm in our stormy year. The pursuits and squabbles of every day yield to the good cheer of this day. Even nations at war have managed to call a halt to their deadly dealings on this day. Yesterday was Thursday, and today is Christmas. On this one day of the year, heaven and earth are one.
I wonder why it is that Christmas interrupts our normal flow of time, but that it does not transform time. Reflecting on the gospel reading today, I believe we have a possible answer. St.Luke tells us why it was necessary for Jesus to be born in a manger. It was because, “there was no room in the inn.” That sentence comes to us as a simple statement and a historical fact but it has proven to be far more than that. The words are actually prophetic of his entire life. One wonders if St.Luke sensed the dramatic appropriateness of the words to everything that was to follow. The fitness of the fact that Jesus began his life on earth by being crowded out. That was to happen all through his ministry and, for that matter, all through history. There was no room for Him in the inn.
That inn has become the most famous in all the world, not because of what happened there, but because of what might have happened and did not. It has become a sort of symbol, a continuing parable of human life. How is it that so much of our world and so much of ourselves are like Bethlehem’s inn? Why is there so little room in us and among us for the Lord of life? Why can’t we experience this island of calm in our stormy year?
One thing was preoccupation. The most obvious reason there was no room for Jesus was because the inn was occupied to capacity. It was already full. Other travelers had gotten there first and filled it up. One can hardly keep from sympathizing with the inn keeper. There is no hint in the story that he was a mean person. He held no ill-will against the Holy Family. He was a business person. He was simply running a lodge for travelers. Others got there first; there were no more rooms.
Any fair minded person can appreciate the problem, but it is by those same familiar circumstances that again and again Christ is crowded out of our lives. It may be that we feel too important with too many weighty responsibilities. God knows that there are many of us who are in love with our burdens, feel naked without them, and will not lay them down. So there is no room in us. Or it may be that we’ve tried too hard to make Christmas warm and thrilling, and our lives are so full of pre-conceived expectations, so occupied with strategies to produce the desired effect, so self-absorbed, that there is no room in us. There are so many people in love with their guilt, inveterate cross bearers, naked without it, and will not lay it down. So there is no room in us. Preoccupation- the things that get there first. Many people do not intent to be irreligious. They harbor no ill-will toward Christ. But life gets previously occupied by other guests. There is just so much room in any person’s life. There are only 24 hours in all of our days. And once the time and space are filled, there isn’t room for anything else, not even Christ. Isn’t it strange how 21st century lives resemble that first century in at Bethlehem, PREOCCUPIED.
Another reason Christ got crowded out was unawareness. No one recognized the importance of that moment. If the innkeeper had known the significance of the occasion, he would have made room for the Holy Family. He would no doubt have moved out of his own quarters to make room for Christ.
The innkeeper was unaware, and so are we. The great moments of life do not often come with trumpets blaring. In fact, they almost never do. God often speaks to us quietly through the commonplace events of life. A weary traveler leading a donkey on which is seated his exhausted and pregnant wife-who among us would have recognized God in that?
There is a third factor besides preoccupation and unawareness. I choose to call it fear.
For Christ to have been born in Bethlehem’s inn would have called for some rearranging. It’s almost always that way. Wherever Christ goes, his presence requires a rearrangement of life, and that can be a frightening thing. We prefer to stay with the way things are.
All through his life, he disturbed people by the way he lived and the things he said. There was something so revolutionary about his kind of love (unconditional) that people were frightened by it. More than once they asked him to get out, to leave, to go away, and to not bother them anymore.
There was no room for him in his hometown synagogue. There as no room for him in the temple. You can’t have religion interfering with business, overturning tables of merchandise, and driving out money changers.
There was no room for him in the nation. They were a captive people enslaved by Rome. More than anything else, they wanted to break that bondage, to drive the Romans into the seas. And here was Jesus talking about loving your enemies, turning the other cheek, going the second mile. They had no patience for that kind of talk. They simply did not have room for the man nor his message.
And how about us? How much room do we really have for Christ? We celebrate his birth. It has become for us national as well as a religious holiday. But making room for Christ involves more than an annual celebration. It is a day-to-day living.
Having room for Christ is not an easy matter. It always involves some rearranging of life. His very presence requires some commitments and changes. We never just have the room. The old innkeeper could tell us about it- the knock at the door, and the inevitable choice, make room or give him whatever happens to be left over.
Will we lay down, during this Christmas season, our crowding burdens for a while? Will we give up selfish expectations and controls, and reach out to others? Will we allow God’s generosity and kindness to balance the suffering we see around and the guilt we may feel? If we are crowded because of too much self-concern, let’s reach out to others. If we are exhausted by too much reaching out to others, then let God reach into our hearts. In that balance of concern for self and for others is the room to be found, the space where Christ will be born this Christmas day.
May this Christmas no just interrupt the normal flow of our lives, but may Christ transform our lives as well. No room at the inn! No room in our lives! Not so! We welcome you, Lord Jesus. During this Christmas season and throughout the coming year, we hope you find our hearts made wide to receive you, our hands reaching out to hold you, and in you and with you, all of our brothers and sisters, Amen.