Can you hear it?
Can you hear it?
Updated 09:52pm (Mla time) Dec 24, 2004
Inquirer News Service
Editor's Note: Published on page A10 of the December 25, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer
IN A TIME of lingering anguish and sudden loss, Christmas comes almost like an irrelevance. After the tempest of a divisive and long drawn-out election year, after the sorrow of unexpected death (those of entire communities, that of a popular Filipino icon), the longed-for day arrives looking like a lesser thing.
There is little relief, and less gaiety. Even the rich are burdened by a sense that the time is not ripe for a celebration.
But it is in times like these, when we seem to encounter the mysteries of Lent in the middle of Christmas, that Christians actually come closest to the true meaning--that is to say, religious rather than commercial--of the season.
In his Christmas message, Archbishop of Manila Gaudencio Rosales reminded us of an obscure but crucial axiom of the faith: "Christmas is whispering to us even in the darkness and after the tempest and sorrow are gone."
Indeed, to the Christian believer, the whispering happens even when the tempest is still howling, when the sorrow still runs deep.
Can you hear it?
Our response will be revealing, not for what it says about Christmas, but in fact for what it says about ourselves.
Loud and clear
TO MARY, the wearying return to Bethlehem for the imperial census must have seemed a less-than-happy time to give birth to the promised Savior of the human race. The inhospitable innkeepers must have seemed like more sorry examples of the race to be saved. And the terrified shepherds visiting "a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger" must have seemed yet another reminder of the poverty that was all around her.
But it was Mary's gift--as it was the gift of the other two central figures of the first Christian season of Advent, the prophet Isaiah and John the Baptizer--to see beyond appearances. In the literal darkness, in the midst of the homecoming tempest and the sorrow and pain of childbirth, she heard Christmas loud and clear. Playing host to a flock of shepherds so soon after giving birth, Mary yet received their astonishing angel-babble with grace. "As for Mary," the evangelist Luke recalls, "she treasured all these messages and continually pondered over them."
It is Mary's love for her Son that puts everything in perspective: the untimely pregnancy, the unwanted traveling, the jostling crowd, the fear of losing the Baby, the make-shift delivery room, the surprise, perhaps even unwelcome visitors. In the Nativity experience, she foreshadowed the essential teaching of her crucified Son. Love's sacrifice is redemptive.
This lesson is even more relevant to us today, when millions of Filipinos seem plunged in gloom or deep in the throes of suffering. The Manila archbishop, in his message to the faithful, suggests something we already know all too well: Grace comes even or especially from the afflicted, if they allow themselves to turn their affliction into love's willing sacrifice. "These people who have been touched by God's love in Jesus are capable of bringing peace where there is conflict, of building and nurturing fraternal relationships where there is hatred, of seeking justice where there prevails the exploitation of man by man. Only love is capable of radically transforming the relationship that men maintain among themselves."
"Touched by God's love in Jesus." This subtle phrase suggests what theologians call the economy of salvation. If we are in pain, and we offer our pain as a sacrifice of love (that is, as part of Christ's own suffering), our suffering redeems us, gives meaning to our lives, and ultimately saves us. This is the heart of the Christian faith. We are touched by God's love in Jesus to the degree we share in his self-sacrifice.
This is, thus, what Christmas is whispering to us amid the gathering darkness, in the middle of our tempest and our sorrow: Even in affliction, there is yet hope.
Updated 09:52pm (Mla time) Dec 24, 2004
Inquirer News Service
Editor's Note: Published on page A10 of the December 25, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer
IN A TIME of lingering anguish and sudden loss, Christmas comes almost like an irrelevance. After the tempest of a divisive and long drawn-out election year, after the sorrow of unexpected death (those of entire communities, that of a popular Filipino icon), the longed-for day arrives looking like a lesser thing.
There is little relief, and less gaiety. Even the rich are burdened by a sense that the time is not ripe for a celebration.
But it is in times like these, when we seem to encounter the mysteries of Lent in the middle of Christmas, that Christians actually come closest to the true meaning--that is to say, religious rather than commercial--of the season.
In his Christmas message, Archbishop of Manila Gaudencio Rosales reminded us of an obscure but crucial axiom of the faith: "Christmas is whispering to us even in the darkness and after the tempest and sorrow are gone."
Indeed, to the Christian believer, the whispering happens even when the tempest is still howling, when the sorrow still runs deep.
Can you hear it?
Our response will be revealing, not for what it says about Christmas, but in fact for what it says about ourselves.
Loud and clear
TO MARY, the wearying return to Bethlehem for the imperial census must have seemed a less-than-happy time to give birth to the promised Savior of the human race. The inhospitable innkeepers must have seemed like more sorry examples of the race to be saved. And the terrified shepherds visiting "a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger" must have seemed yet another reminder of the poverty that was all around her.
But it was Mary's gift--as it was the gift of the other two central figures of the first Christian season of Advent, the prophet Isaiah and John the Baptizer--to see beyond appearances. In the literal darkness, in the midst of the homecoming tempest and the sorrow and pain of childbirth, she heard Christmas loud and clear. Playing host to a flock of shepherds so soon after giving birth, Mary yet received their astonishing angel-babble with grace. "As for Mary," the evangelist Luke recalls, "she treasured all these messages and continually pondered over them."
It is Mary's love for her Son that puts everything in perspective: the untimely pregnancy, the unwanted traveling, the jostling crowd, the fear of losing the Baby, the make-shift delivery room, the surprise, perhaps even unwelcome visitors. In the Nativity experience, she foreshadowed the essential teaching of her crucified Son. Love's sacrifice is redemptive.
This lesson is even more relevant to us today, when millions of Filipinos seem plunged in gloom or deep in the throes of suffering. The Manila archbishop, in his message to the faithful, suggests something we already know all too well: Grace comes even or especially from the afflicted, if they allow themselves to turn their affliction into love's willing sacrifice. "These people who have been touched by God's love in Jesus are capable of bringing peace where there is conflict, of building and nurturing fraternal relationships where there is hatred, of seeking justice where there prevails the exploitation of man by man. Only love is capable of radically transforming the relationship that men maintain among themselves."
"Touched by God's love in Jesus." This subtle phrase suggests what theologians call the economy of salvation. If we are in pain, and we offer our pain as a sacrifice of love (that is, as part of Christ's own suffering), our suffering redeems us, gives meaning to our lives, and ultimately saves us. This is the heart of the Christian faith. We are touched by God's love in Jesus to the degree we share in his self-sacrifice.
This is, thus, what Christmas is whispering to us amid the gathering darkness, in the middle of our tempest and our sorrow: Even in affliction, there is yet hope.
posted by Dante at 11:23 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home