Thirteen hundred euro for a domestic-sized
crib! It was on sale in one of the major chain stores, and I
stared at it in disbelief. It was an elaborate, wooden structure,
with, at a guess, six figures. But it was the outlandish additions
and appendages that really galled me: windmills and running water,
pots and pans, benches and windows, a table with crockery and
foodstuffs; and all carefully placed in a well-architected loft
and compartment adjoining the "stable". It all represented
the kind of place where you might well enjoy spending a pleasant
time away from it all. A far cry from the dirt and deprivation
of the hovel where Jesus was born!
All my life, I have loved Christmas and
everything it stands for. And, like most people, I love to
visit the Crib. But the
crib I have just described offended me, and provoked some thought
and some unease. To me it had so managed to sanitise the real
circumstances of Christ's birth as to utterly diminish the Christmas
message. The "prettiness" had obliterated the poverty!
Such a crib might well serve as a Christmas decoration, but otherwise
could only counter-witness.
Too often, I think, Christ is presented as merely giving us
an example of humility and patience in being born in the misery
of a stable; almost as if to teach us how to deal with deprivation
should it, sadly, come our way. The fact that he cheerfully chose
poverty as a preferred state of living can be conveniently ignored,
or even eliminated.
"Blessed are the poor!” he
was later to insist, as he pronounced the great Beatitudes,
which, according to his scale
of values, formed the very substance of fulfilled and wholesome
living.
What other of the principles prominently preached by Christ,
I wonder, are likewise sanitised by the worldly values we espouse?
A lot, perhaps, and especially those that place real demands
and responsibilities squarely on our shoulders. Certain it is
that Christ's commands require me to minister to the needs of
the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, the sick and those in prison.
Yet I continually attempt to placate my conscience with the all
too infrequent act of minor service to a neighbour or a friend.
And I know, deep inside myself, the many more ways in which I
diminish the radical message of the Gospel in my life.
Lord Jesus, grant me grace this Christmas, to spend more time
in prayer before the Crib, and not just visit it! That contemplating
the wonder of your birth in the surrounding squalor, and yet
simplicity, of the stable, my heart may be moved to live as your
love and example clearly directs me. So help me God.
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