Christmas 2025
Visit to the Holy Land
Last September, I had the privilege of visiting the Holy Land. I went with the Supreme Knight of the Knights of Columbus, Patrick Kelly, and with Msgr. Peter Vaccari, head of CNEWA, the Catholic Near East Welfare Assn. Although we were unable to visit Gaza, we spent a lot time in the West Bank. There I had two experiences that shape my reflections about Christmas, this year, and for years to come.
Visit to the Holy Family Children’s Home
The first experience was a visit to the Holy Family Children’s Home in Bethlehem. It is a ministry conducted by the Daughters of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul, and it provides care for abandoned children. Some are dropped off anonymously at the Children’s Home, others are abused children, placed in the home by local authorities. Regardless of how they get there, these children are cared for with great love by the Sisters and their co-workers.
The religious sister in charge of this ministry is a force of nature. She would have to be, given the challenges of working in a complicated place marked by so much social and political conflict. After touring the home, we visited the nursery where, true to form, I was blessing babies in their cribs. Suddenly, Sister placed a baby in my arms . . . as if to say, don’t just admire these babies at a distance – hold them! The little baby I was holding beautiful, with no one in the world to care for her, except those wonderful sisters.
There I stood, in Bethlehem, holding a baby born into utter poverty. The baby was amazingly content in my inexpert arms. And when this little child with eyes wide open gazed at me, I had an inkling of how precious this little one is in the sight of God—and not only the baby I held but abandoned children everywhere. I had an inkling of how precious is the Child in the manger. Holding that little baby in my arms, I thought of the Baby Jesus, the Son of God, born into the utter poverty of our human condition. “Though in the form of God, he emptied himself of glory.”
Mass in the Basilica of the Nativity
A second experience shaping my Christmas reflections was offering Holy Mass at St. Jerome’s Cave in the Basilica of the Nativity in Bethlehem. This “cave” adjoins the place where Mary gave birth to Jesus, a cave that served as a shelter for animals. It is also the place where St. Jerome spent thirty years translating Scripture from Greek into Latin, a version of the Bible known as “the Vulgate”. Centuries later, it remains a monumental achievement.
As I prayed in that spot, the Scripture passages read at Christmas came alive. I imaged Jerome translating the words of the Prologue of John’s Gospel, “Verbum caro factum est et habitavit in nobis” – “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” Or the inspired account of Luke of that night made bright by God’s glory, that holy night when Christ was born of the Virgin Mary. Or the joyous passage from St. Paul exalting in God’s generous love in sending us a Savior who would regenerate the human family. I thought of St. Jerome’s deep love for the prophet Isaiah who foretold the coming of the Savior, and of the Letter to the Hebrews who pronounced the Word made flesh as God’s final and complete Word about himself – and about ourselves. What must Jerome have experienced translating those passages in the very place where our salvation in Christ began to unfold!
In that holy place where Jerome translated the Scriptures, I was struck by the calling we have all received, myself included, to translate the Word of God by the witness of our lives. We do this not because we are clever or resourceful or good apart from God, but rather because the Word became flesh and now dwells within us. That is why Paul urges us “to reject godless ways and worldly desires, and to live temperately, justly, and devoutly in this age,” as we await in hope the coming of our Savior at the end of time. Our lives are to be living proclamations of the Word made flesh.
And as I offered Mass at the place of the Nativity, I was overwhelmed by the truth and reality of the liturgy by which past events become present so that we can share in them. The birth of Jesus took place 2,000 years ago; it happened only once. Yet it is still taking place whenever we celebrate Christ’s Incarnation in the sacred mysteries that the Church sets forth for us. That is why the Church insists, “Today, Christ is born!” Our faith cannot be reduced to sentimentality or nostalgia. It thrives on living contact with Christ and everything he did to save us. It is no different tonight (today). The Lord is born anew in mystery so that we too can be born anew.
The Upshot
As the Word becomes flesh in us, it is not likely that shepherds will appear, or that we will hear the song of the angels, or even that the night sky will be ablaze with stars. Such is reserved for the One who is Lord of lords and King of kings. What we do hope for is that, like the shepherds, we will be amazed, like the angels, we will worship in spirit and truth, like the stars, we will shine with the radiance of Christ, and like Mary, we will carefully preserve this great mystery in our hearts.
Returning, if not physically but mystically, to the place where Christ was born, let us pray for the generosity of spirit to extend the light and love of Christ to those who suffer and are sore oppressed. May he who was born in a cave because there was no room in the inn, help us give shelter to those who have no where to lay their head. May he who was laid in a manger used for feeding animals, help us to give food to the hungry. May he who was held in the arms of his Mother Mary help us to embrace him in those who go through life unloved . . . and so we pray:
“…rekindle our hope, Lord. …fill us with ecstatic wonder…assure us of the triumph of love over hatred, of life over death . . . In the luminous silence of your Nativity…continue to speak to us, Emmanuel. And we are ready to listen to you” (Pope St. John Paul II).