Homily - On the importance of the Nativity Scene

The Third Sunday of Advent (A)

Dear brothers and sisters,

His Holiness Pope Francis recently published the Apostolic Letter Admirabile Signum in which he reflected on the admirable sign of the depiction of the Birth of the Lord Jesus Christ. It used to be commonly seen in both public and private places at this time of year, though now it has all but fallen into disuse - even within Christian homes - as we shape Christmas more and more into a celebration of winter.

The Holy Father wrote his letter both “to encourage the beautiful family tradition of preparing the nativity scene in the days before Christmas” and to express his “hope that this custom will never be lost and that, wherever it has fallen into disuse, it can be rediscovered and revived.”[1] His desires in this letter are also mine.

It was, of course, Saint Francis of Assisi who first gave us the crèche on Christmas Eve in 1223 in the Italian village of Greccio. He was so moved by the humanity of Jesus that he said to a man named John who, we are told, “had a good reputation and even better life”:

If you would like us to celebrate this feast day of the Lord in Greccio, then go there ahead of me and prepare what I tell you. I would like to portray the Child born in Bethlehem and to see somehow with my bodily eyes the hardship he underwent because he lacked all a newborn’s needs, the way he was placed in a manger and how he lay on the hay between the ox and the ass.[2]

Everything, of course, was prepared as the Poverello requested and he celebrated Christmas that year at Greccio, some sixty miles north of Rome.

When Saint Francis arrived that Christmas Eve night, everyone present was

gladdened with new joy over the renewed mystery…  The brothers sang the Lord’s praise and the entire night was spent in celebration. Sighing, the Saint of God stood before the crèche, filled with sighs, contrite in piety and overcome with ineffable joy.[3]

Francis stood before the crèche, before the manger filled only with hay, flanked by the animals, and was filled with sorrow for his sins and with joy at the humility and love of the Child of Bethlehem. Does the same happen to you when you gaze upon a Nativity set? Perhaps as children we once were filled with the humility and love of the Son of God when looking at – or playing with – a Nativity set. It can still be so today; in these remaining days before Christmas, let us beg the Lord for this beautiful grace.

Some might now be asking why a Nativity set should move us so deeply and inspire both sorrow for sins and with great joy. Isn’t it just a collection of figurines? No, it is more than a simple set of statues because a depiction of the Lord’s Birth “shows God’s tender love: the Creator of the universe lowered himself to take up our littleness. The gift of life, in all its mystery, becomes all the more wondrous as we realize that the Son of Mary is the source and sustenance of all life.”[4] This is, in part, why, today, after receiving the very Body and Blood of the Son of God, we will bless the images of the Christ Child that we will place in our nativity sets at Christmas. Such displays remind us that Christ Jesus – the Bread of Life – was born in Bethlehem – the House of Bread – and placed within a manger, a feeding trough (cf. John 6:35).

The Nativity is set such a cherished custom for many of the faithful because it is a way for us “to ‘feel’ and ‘touch’ the poverty that God’s Son took upon himself in the Incarnation. Implicitly, it summons us to follow him along the path of humility, poverty and self-denial that leads from the manger of Bethlehem to the cross.”[5] At the same time, it reminds us that “in Jesus, God was a child, and in this way he wished to reveal the greatness of his love: by smiling and opening his arms to all.”[6] For this reason, “the nativity scene shows God as he came into our world, but it also makes us reflect on how our life is part of God’s own life. It invites us to become his disciples if we want to attain ultimate meaning in life.”[7] Perhaps this is why, in an age in which so many people – Christians included – live as though God did not exist, that the Nativity display is quickly vanishing from both public and private life. Indeed, as Pope Francis as said,

It does not matter how the nativity scene is arranged: it can always be the same or it can change from year to year. What matters is that it speaks to our lives. Wherever it is, and whatever form it takes, the Christmas crèche speaks to us of the love of God, the God who became a child in order to make us know how close he is to every man, woman and child, regardless of their condition.[8]

As we prepare, then, to celebrate the coming feasts, set up your Nativity sets with joy in a prominent place of the home. Gather together around them frequently and learn

to contemplate Jesus, to experience God’s love for us, to feel and believe that God is with us and that we are with him, his children, brothers and sisters all, thanks to the Child who is the Son of God and the Son of the Virgin Mary. And to realize that in that knowledge we find true happiness.[9]

If we allow our Nativity sets to teach us to imitate the love God, then, we, too will be of good reputation, and of even better lives. Amen.

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[1] Pope Francis, Admirabile signum, 1.

[2] Tomaso de Celano, First Life, XXX.84 in Brother Thomas of Celano: The Life of St. Francis of Assisi and The Treatise of Miracles, trans. Catherine Bolton (Assisi, Italy: Editrice Minerva, 2001), 80-81.

[3] Ibid., XXX.85.

[4] Pope Francis, Admirabile signum, 3.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Ibid., 8.

[7] Ibid.

[8] Ibid., 10.

[9] Ibid.

Homily - 25 December 2016 - The Nativity of the Lord - Do you know what the ox and ass know?

The Nativity of the Lord

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ,

We come today heeding the call of those ancient shepherds who said to one another, “Let us go, then, to Bethlehem to see this thing that has taken place” (Luke 2:15). This “thing,” of course, is what the choir of angels announced to them as they watched their sheep, namely, the Birth of the Son of God and the Son of Mary.

Centuries later, but many centuries before us, Saint Jerome made the cry of the shepherds his own and moved to Bethlehem to be near the place where the Lord Jesus was born. Being so near the place where Mary placed the Christ Child, Saint Jerome once cried out in frustration, “Oh, if only I could see that manger in which the Lord was laid!”[1] Jerome was a very good grumbler, though a holy one, and went on to explain his frustration, complaining:

As a tribute of honor, we Christians have now removed the mud-baked [reliquary] and replaced it with a silver one; but the one that has been removed is more precious to me! Silver and gold are appropriate for the pagan world.[2]

This tendency to improve upon the circumstances of the Lord’s Birth, to make them more appealing to our own standards, remains with us today as we sentimentalize Christmas. Even now, pilgrims who visit the relic of the manger housed in the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore in Rome know something of what Jerome complained as they attempt to peer through the sparkle and glitz of the silver and gold of the reliquary to look upon the humble wood of the manger itself.

Centuries after Saint Jerome, and yet still centuries before us, Saint Francis of Assisi also desired to heed the cry of the shepherds and see the place where the Lord Jesus was born and the manger in which Mary placed him. Moreover, he wanted to help others do the same. This is why in 1223 he asked Pope Honorius III for permission “to portray the Child born in Bethlehem and to see somehow with my bodily eyes the hardship he underwent because he lacked all a newborn’s needs, the way he was placed in a manger and how he lay on the hay between the ox and the ass.”[3]

Nearly eight centuries later, we still erect Nativities in our homes, churches, and in public places so everyone who looks upon them might also say with the shepherds, “Let us go, then, to Bethlehem” and see the manger in which the Lord Jesus was laid. Happily, this tradition is now embraced by many of our Protestant brothers and sisters who join us in using statues both small and large to envision what those shepherds beheld that caused them to return to their fields “glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen” (Luke 2:20).

It is curious to note that Saint Francis requested two particular additions to our Nativity displays that neither Saint Matthew nor Saint Mark mention in their accounts of Jesus’ Birth, two additions without which our Nativities would seem incomplete. These, of course, are the ox and the ass.

A few days ago, I asked our Kindergartners what they could tell me about Christmas. As might be expected, they were quick to mention the presence of the animals. When I asked why the animals were there, one of them told me they brought gifts for Baby Jesus, a detail I must surely have known at one point and have since, sadly, forgotten. She told me the sheep kept the Holy Infant warm, the cows gave him milk, and the donkey brought him to Bethlehem. Perhaps this is why Charles Dickens once said it “is good to be children sometimes, and never better than at Christmas, when the mighty Founder was a child himself.”[4] Even so, this is not quite what Saint Francis had in mind. Why, then, did the little poor man of Assisi want the ox and the ass included?

MS Sloan 2468

While Saint Francis is the first person to portray the Nativity without painting or carving, he is not the first to include the ox and the ass in depictions of the Birth of Jesus. Many illuminations from the medieval manuscripts portray the ox and the ass closer to the manger than Saint Joseph, and sometimes even closer than the Blessed Virgin Mary. The ox and the ass tend to gaze upon the Christ Child with looks of warm affection and a sublime wisdom. These artists knew that many centuries before Saint Francis, Saint Jerome, and well before the Birth of Jesus, the prophet Isaiah foretold, “the ox knows its owner, and the ass its master’s crib; but Israel does not know, my people does not understand” (Isaiah 1:3).

If we study the expression of the ox who looks upon his owner, what do we find he knows? The ox knows, firstly, that he gazes upon a great mystery, “an infinitely greater thing than anything” J.R.R. Tolkien said he “would dare to write.”[5] The ox knows that when he looks upon that Child, he looks upon the invisible God made unexpectedly visible. Of all of the Lord’s wonders, this is the most incomprehensible of all, that the omnipotent God would take unto himself a human face, that the Creator of all things would lower himself to become one of his creatures. The ox knows that he gazes upon “the firstborn of all creation,” “whom angels fall down before” (Colossians 1:15).[6]

The ox knew, secondly, that this invisible God made suddenly visible looks out upon his creation with his human face, with eyes full of compassion, knowledge, power, and tenderness. He looks upon all he has made and calls out to men and women with a word of love and of command. “You are my friends,” he says, “if you do what I command you” (John15:14). “Love one another,” he says, “as I have loved you” (John 15:12). “Be perfect,” he says, “as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matthew 5:48). “These things I have spoken to you,” he says, “that my joy may be in you and your joy may be full” (John 15:11).

The ox knew, thirdly, that this Divine Child, who takes the risk of our refusing to love him, came to lead us out of our self-absorption and show us how to love fully and authentically. One manuscript depicts this in a striking manner. It shows the Child Jesus flying down from heaven already carrying his Cross. Truly, he has come this day “not to be served, but to serve,” to love us to the end (Matthew 20:28; cf. John 13:1). He calls us to set aside our own self-interest and imitate his selflessness.

All this we see in the ox’s face, but what do we find in the expression of the ass? We sing each year in that beloved carol by an unknown author, “Away in a manger, no crib for a bed, the little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head.” The ass knew that the crib of his master is the ass’ own manger. Yes, the crib of the Holy Child is nothing more than a feeding trough for the animals, but in this is contained a great mystery. This Child grew and called himself “the bread of life” and told us quite emphatically, “unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you have no life in you” (John 6:35, 53). The Bread of Life was born in Bethlehem, a village whose name means “the house of bread” and was placed in a manger, not as food for the animals, but as food for those he came to save, as food for you and me.

The ox and the ass bellow and bray to us today, beckoning us to approach their manger so we might look upon the face of the invisible God made visible and know what they know. They call us to pause in silence and consider their questions: “Do you know your Master and his crib? Do you understand and know his mercy and love? Will you eat of him and be nourished by him to love as he loves?” They call us to ponder the tremendous love God displays in his Incarnation, to recognize that “God is so good that he can give up his divine splendor and come down to a stable, so that we might find him, so that his goodness might touch us, give itself to us, and continue to work through us.”[7]

This Christmas, let us resolve to know the heart of our Master, to allow ourselves to be touched by and understand his love, to imitate his selflessness and allow it to work through us in all we say and do. If we open ourselves in this way to love and to be loved by this Child, then our lives will proclaim peace and good will to all we meet, bringing joy and gladness wherever we go. If we welcome the Birth of the Lord Jesus in this way, then we will have a very merry and blessed Christmas indeed. Amen!

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[1] Saint Jerome, Homily on the Nativity of the Lord, 31. In Advent and Christmas with the Church Fathers. Marco Pappalardo, ed. (Washington, D.C.: United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, 2010), 52.

[2] Ibid.

[3] In Tomaso de Celano, First Life, XXX.84. In Brother Thomas of Celano: The Life of St. Francis of Assisi and The Treatise of Miracles. Catherine Bolton, trans. (Assisi, Italy: Editrice Minerva), 80-81.

[4] Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol, Stave 3. In Stories for Christmas by Charles Dickens (New York: Platinum Press, Inc., 2003), 69.

[5] J.R.R. Tolkien, Draft Letter to Michael Straight, 1956. In The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien. Humphrey Carpenter, ed.(Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 2000), 237.

[6] Christina Georgina Rossetti, “In the Bleak Midwinter.”

[7] Pope Benedict XVI, Homily, 24 December 2005.

The drama of the village drunk in the crèche at St. Peter's

Two of my friends are currently visiting the Eternal City and were surprised by the presence of what appears to be the local village drunk passed out among the sheep in the crèche (the Nativity scene) displayed this year in St. Peter's Square:

When asked to explain his presence in the Nativity scene, my first reaction was one of renewed gratitude for being back in the United States of America, even with the bitter temperatures, where such scenes are absent from our Nativity scenes.

As a general rule, Americans tend to prefer their Nativity scenes to be quaint, pleasant, and charming, almost absent of any real discomfort the Holy Family would certainly have experienced. We have sanitized, if you will, our imagining of Christmas morning to fit nicely with the lyrics of "Silent Night" (a song I've never really liked).

When Saint Francis of Assisi first requested permission of Pope Honorius III to re-present the Birth of Jesus, his biographer, Tomaso di Celano, tells us the Poverello wanted "to portray the Child born in Bethlehem and to see somehow with my bodily eyes the hardship he underwent because he lacked all a newborn’s needs, the way he was placed in a manger and how he lay on the hay between the ox and the ass" (First Life, XXX.84). While we have tended to shy away from these hardships, the Italians have taken to displaying the Birth of Jesus in the context of everyday life in all of its normalcy.

Certainly it might be argued the Italians sometimes take this too far (as they do with many things), but nobody likes drama as much as an Italian, and what could be more dramatic than the village drunk in the Nativity?

This dramatization of the early hours of Christmas morning, while distasteful to American sensibilities, may be intended as a stark reminder of the reality of our sin and the very reason the Father sent his Son to be born of the Virgin. As I preached yesterday, "the message of our sinful condition, then, and of our salvation from it in Christ, lies at the heart of the Advent message; to ignore this salvation from sin and death, is to rob Christmas of its beauty, of its wonder, and of its joy."

Perhaps the presence of the village drunk can help us appreciate anew our fallen and sinful condition and our sheer dependence upon the merciful love of God.

A pilgrimage to Greccio to see the hardships Jesus underwent for us

A sign outside what is known as the "Franciscan Bethlehem" declares, "At Greccio it is always Christmas." For almost 800 years pilgrims have been making their way to this mountain town about halfway between Assisi and Rome where on Christmas Eve in the year 1223 Saint Francis began the now beloved custom of erecting Nativity displays. I was one of those pilgrims in May of 1998 and this past Saturday I returned to Greccio again as a pilgrim.

Now, every pilgrimage has to have its share of difficulties and ours began (another priest from the Casa Santa Maria came with me) at the train stop at the base of the mountain on which Greccio has been built.

The first difficulty was a rather important one: We couldn't get the doors of the train to open and so had to ride the train to the next stop, which thankfully was only a few minutes away. Thirty minutes later, a train arrived to take us back to Greccio. This time the doors opened without difficulty.

As we exited the very small station, we beheld a lovely scene:

Having arrived, then, at the base of the mountain - Saint Francis really enjoyed forested mountains - we began the four kilometer (so we guessed, in hindsight; as is par for the course in Italy, each of the signs gave a different number) walk up to the sanctuary on a paved road, in drizzle and rain, and were treated to such sights as these:

A lengthy walk it was, and very pleasant. On the way to Greccio from Rome, we saw several rainbows while we were on the train from Rome and we saw several more as we made our way up the mountain; the Hawaiians would call the rainbows a clear sign of God's blessing on our pilgrimage, which, now that it is all said and done, I cannot dispute.

The web sites I consulted before we left Rome indicated - or so I thought - that Greccio was a two kilometer walk from the train station. Before long, we realized this was not correct; either the web sites were wrong, or I read the information very incorrectly. Whichever the case, we knew we were getting close when finally we looked up and saw the sanctuary:

It was here that, 1223, that Christmas miracle took place. Thomas of Celano describes the marvels God wrought for the faithful on that  night, already marvelous in its own right as the commemoration of the Birth of the Savior, at some length:

About fifteen days before Christmas, blessed Francis had him [John, a nobleman of Greccio] summoned, as he often did, and said to him, "If you would like us to celebrate this feast day of the Lord in Greccio, then go there ahead of me and prepare what I tell you. I would like to portray the Child born in Bethlehem and to see somehow with my bodily eyes the hardship he underwent because he lacked all a newborn's needs, the way he was placed in a manger and how he lay on the hay between the ox and the ass." Upon hearing this, that good and pious man hastened off and had everything that the Saint had told him prepared in the designated place (The First Life, 84).

This took place one year before Saint Francis received the stigmata and three years before he died.

Notice, first of all, why the holy man of God wanted to re-create that night: "to see somehow with my bodily eyes the hardship he underwent."  The Poverello ordered the circumstances to be prepared so that he, and those with whom, might come to know and understand the Lord Jesus more clearly and fully. We, on the other hand, too often use our Nativity sets as cute decorations, as the Crescat has been demonstrating for years. This year, as your prepare your creche, it might be good to ask if helps to see the hardships Jesus underwent for us.

It might also be helpful to spend some time reflecting individually and as a family on these words of His Holiness Benedict XVI when he described the creche as "a school of life, where we can learn the secret of true joy":

This does not consist in having a lot of things, but in feeling loved by the Lord, in making oneself a gift for others, in loving. We look at the creche: The Madonna and St. Joseph do not seem to be a very fortunate family; they had their first child in the midst of great hardships; and yet they are full of deep joy, because they love each other, they help each other and above all they are certain that God is at work in their history, God who made himself present in the little Jesus.

Let us return now to the account of Thomas of Celano of that night in 1223:

...At length, the Saint of God arrived, saw that everything was ready and was delighted by it. The manger was prepared, the hay was brought and the ox and ass were led in. There, simplicity was honored, poverty exalted, humility praised, and Greccio was virtually transformed into a new Bethlehem. ... Sighing, the Saint of God stood before the creche, filled with sighs, contrite in piety and overcome with ineffable joy.

The solemn rite of the Mass was celebrated over the creche and the priest felt unusual solace.

The Saint of God was dressed as a Levite, for he was a deacon, and he sang the holy Gospel in a resonant voice... Then he preached to the people and said the sweetest things about the birth of the poor King and about the little city of Bethlehem...

The gifts of the Almighty were multiplied there and a very virtuous man had a marvelous vision. He saw that a lifeless child was lying in the creche and that the Saint went alongside him and roused him from a sort of deep sleep. Indeed, this vision was no contrary to reality, for through His grace, His holy servant Francis brought Baby Jesus back to life in the hearts of many where He had been forgotten and his memory became etched deeply in their minds (First Life, 85-86).

In how many hearts today as the Baby Jesus been forgotten? In how many minds has the etching of his memory word away? We would do well in these days before Christmas to call upon the intercession of Saint Francis, so that he may help our hearts and minds remember the Baby Jesus.

On a curious note, Saint Bonaventure tells us that before ordering the arrangements described above, Saint Francis "asked and obtained the permission of the pope for the ceremony, so that he could not be accused of being an innovator" (Major Legend, X.7). This aspect of the life of Saint Francis is too frequently overlooked.

The present chapel built over the place prepared by John of Greccio, in Celano's words, "so that in the place where the animals once ate hay, for the health of their soul and body, men can now eat of the flesh of the immaculate and unblemished Lamb, our Lord Jesus Christ," remains a simple testament to both the joy and hardship of that first Christmas night (First Life, 87):

As you can see, the manger prepared was actually a rock, with a slight cleft in it. It was in this cleft that the Child of Bethlehem appeared. Today, hay is kept in the cleft:

In his Letter to All the Faithful, Saint Francis urges us all to be more than brothers and sisters of the Lord Jesus:

We are mothers when we carry Him in our heart and body through love and a pure and sincere conscience; we give birth to Him through His holy manner of working, which should shine before others as an example.

What better gift could we hope to present to the newborn King?

I've posted a number of other pictures to Facebook, including the cells of Saint Francis and of Saint Bonaventure, that you may like to see.

If you've ever wondered why the ox and ass are present in our Nativity sets and why Saint Francis insisted on them, though they aren't mentioned in the Gospels, you might enjoy this homily I preached a few years ago.

Homily - Christmas 2010

The Nativity of Our Lord Jesus Christ

This homily is adapted from a reflection of Marco Pappalardo in Advent and Christmas with the Church Fathers (Washington, D.C.: United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, 2010), 49).

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ,

May the Lord give you peace!

Saint Jerome once cried out, “Oh, if only I could see that manger in which the Lord was laid” (Homily on the Nativity of the Lord, 31)!

It was these same sentiments in his heart that led Saint Francis of Assisi to ask permission of the Pope to hold what we might call the first living Nativity scene in Greccio in the year of Our Lord 1223.

Are these not the same sentiments in our hearts this day? Have we not come to celebrate the Mass of Christmas to see not simply the manger, but the Lord himself who was laid in it?

We are often enamored of the beauty of many Nativity scenes with their depictions of the Christ Child, of Mary and Joseph, of the shepherds and Magi and angels. Sometimes, too, we are moved to deep prayer by such images; but, too often, these displays do not impress much upon us.

Let us, then, beg the Lord this night that our lives might become like living Nativity scenes. As we look upon the Nativity scenes in our churches and homes, let us beg the Lord to use them to inspire us to live as true and faithful Christians.

As you look upon the sheep and oxen resting quietly near the place of the Lord’s birth, let your legs be like the legs of these animals who, step by step, went to the manger to praise their Creator.

When Holy Mary said to the angel, “Let it be done to me according to your word,” the Lord Jesus grew inside of her (Luke 1:38). As he grew physically in the womb of the Blessed Virgin, so may he grow spiritually in each of our hearts who have come to welcome him and to receive him in the Holy Eucharist.

Saint Joseph cradled the Child of Bethlehem in his arms, and used them also to embrace and protect him. Let our arms be like those of Joseph, as we embrace and serve Jesus in those we meet each day.

The angels announced the birth of the Savior of the world with songs of joy, crying out, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests” (Luke 2:14). Let our voices, too, be lifted up in joyful song in the praise of the newborn King.

The shepherds heard the song of the angels and “went in haste” to see this great wonder they announced (Luke 2:16). Let our ears be like theirs, eager to hear news of salvation and open and receptive to Lord’s will for us.

Gazing into the heavens, the Magi recognized a unique and important star. Let our intellects be like theirs who, seeing the star with faith, journeyed to meet the Lord. Today, may we, too, may our minds be captured by the wonder of our God, who became one of us so that we might become like him.

Finally, let our hearts – this day and every day – be like that manger that held the Creator of the heavens, the eternal Lord of Glory. Let us approach the solemnity of this great mystery with joyful love, ready and eager to receive the One who took on our poverty that we might be made rich in him.

If we celebrate the feast of Lord’s birth in this way, we will not need to see the manger that held the Lord, for we will see him with the eyes of faith, we will taste his goodness in the Eucharist, and we will know his joy and peace in our hearts. With Saint Francis and all the saints, may we, looking upon the Nativity scene and becoming a living one ourselves, “be gladdened with new joy at the renewal of the mystery” of Emanuel, of God with us (Tomaso de Celano, First Life [of St. Francis of Assisi, XXX, 84). Amen.

A blessed and merry Christmas to you all!