There is nothing as consoling, as profund, as the knowledge that you are loved, understood, heard, seen, accompanied in the midst of your poverty…

I’ve got a Christmas story for you…

The day was Monday December 25, 1995. I had been in the United States now for two months, so everything was still new. We lived in a small apartment in SeaTac with mom, dad, and my four older sisters, an apartment furnished with just the basics that my parents were able to get from donations; a dining room table with mismatched chairs, a couch wrapped in a bed sheet to hide imperfections, and a bookstand with a small fish tank and two goldfish which I would sit by and observe for hours. Mom thought that would help me as I adjusted to a new country. It does, thought I do not think she realized that little fish tank and the fascination it produced during that transition period would be the catalyst for the 5 giant fish tanks and 40 exotic animal enclosures I would have by 2024… your fault mom.

As my first Christmas in the states, it was not as grand as I imagined it would be, I was a little underwhelmed. The movies Home Alone and A Christmas Story had been on replay on our small box TV during that week, so I had imagined Christmas morning would look like what – being around a giant tree filled with toys at the base. It wasn’t, parents were just grounding their feet, there wasn’t a lot of money, but that was okay.

Christmas eve had been nice, we went to Mass, came back, had a traditional Mexican Christmas dinner, cradled the baby Jesus as we sang, then when midnight hit we gave each other the traditional Christmas hug, opened a couple of presents around the hand-me down Christmas tree my parents had acquired, and headed to sleep.

It was now Christmas afternoon, a few hours after getting home from Mass. I cleaned the living room which was my usual chore, then sat by the fish tank daydreaming as mom was already at work in the kitchen reheating leftovers for lunch. I felt okay. Sure my 8-yr-old self still would have loved a bunch of presents… Toy Story, the movie of the year, had just released their action figures and I was convinced by the commercials that if I had them, they would change my life.

As I meditated on these important things in life, (knock knock knock). I am startled by a loud knock on the door. I turned to find mom’s gaze letting me know to get it. I approach the door, turned the knob, and opened it. There stood a tall stranger, a tall blue-eyed-blond-haired stranger with a huge smile on his face and a giant basket of wrapped gifts, with more gifts at his feet.

Noticing my face of mistrust, confusion, but potential excitement, he crouched down to my eye level, gestured for me to take the basket, and said “for you, para ti, Feliz Navidad.” I look back at mom whose face revealed she somehow knew what was happening, and says “esta bien, it’s okay, tomalos, take them…”

My eyes widened and a huge grin of joy quickly took over my face in unbelief, as I took the gifts, one after another, and place them inside the apartment, quickly filling up the base of that Christmas tree, rivaling those I had seen on T.V.

There is nothing as consoling, as profundo, as the experience of feeling loved, understood, heard, seen, accompanied in the midst of our poverty… and that is the Christmas story: the birth of Christ is God coming in the poverty of our humanity, and giving us the gift of being loved, understood, heard, seen, accompanied, and with that gift, the power of being called Children of God.

For centuries before Christ, from the beginning of human reason, we have been crying out loud for deliverance, for an answer to human poverty: the problem of evil, pain and suffering. Philosophers came up with new words and concepts to try and give meaning to their lives which gave rise to those great stories of mythology, brought forth a fascination with the stars, planets, the elements… casting the human being into a search for transcendence, finding a way to free ourselves from our poverty.

And from the beginning, God began to speak, to respond, making his words take shape within the a community that had suffered greatly, Israel. Though their culture and philosophy, God begins to identify himself as wisdom, the Lord, as a powerful word, as the great I AM, the one and only God, beginning to establish a covenant, a relationship of trust.

As people grew in confidence of that great I AM, they began to voice to him directly their afflictions, their poverty, their cry for deliverance which time and time again brought them to a place of slavery. We hear this in Psalm 86, it is our song, our cry of distress… 

Incline your ear, LORD, and answer me,

for I am poor and oppressed.

You are my God;

be gracious to me, Lord;

to you I call all the day.

LORD, hear my prayer;

listen to my cry for help.

On the day of my distress, I call to you,

for you will answer me.

Turn to me, be gracious to me;

give your strength to your servant;

Give me a sign of your favor:

that you, LORD, help and comfort me.

         Inspired by God’s word, there emerged in the people a radical hope, a promise, a trust that the Lord would hear the cry of the poor and would comfort his people, all peoples, all nations, to the ends of the earth as Isaiah proclaimed…

Yesterday we celebrated the historical night in which God responded to our cry through the birth of Jesus, a moment we need to remember every year because it keeps our eyes focused on the close relationship God desires to have with us.

The birth of Jesus is God’s gift to us, the greatest gift anyone could receive – the God’s very presence.

For thousands of years, we tried to transcend and reach the realm of the gods… but it had been impossible. In Jesus, God bridges the spiritual reality and brings transcendence to us, to our level, because by becoming one of us, God enters our very human experience and elevates it, brings to us something new. Out of our poverty, God creates something new.

Think about what that for your own poverty, your own sins, your own limitations…

Pope Francis invites us to think of Christmas, the birth of Jesus, as the ‘newness’ that enables us to be reborn each year as children of God. It is a reminder that God, the great I AM, is not distant, is not disconnected from our human experience. Rather, God comes into the world as each child comes into the world, weak and vulnerable, so that we learn to accept our weakness with tender love… and realize that our limitations do not mean God is absent.

That is the continual power of Christmas. As we renew the acceptance of God’s gift of Jesus in our lives, as we allow God to enter into our own poverty, allow that transformation to make of your life a gift to others, a gift of the things people truly need to receive. To those who did accept this baby, he gave them power to be children of God.

There is nothing as consoling, as profundo, as the experience of feeling loved, understood, heard, seen, accompanied in the midst of our poverty…

The gift of God’s presence equips us with the power of God’s presence for others, and a gesture of sharing God’s power can have life-changing, lasting effect, on those to whom we share it with.

That Monday, Christmas Day in 1995… knowing the difficult financial situation we were in, and not wanting us to miss the opportunity of having that magical Christmas moment every kid desired, mom had registered for a program where volunteers gave of their time on Christmas day to deliver presents to the poor, and we were the recipients of such generosity. I don’t remember what gifts that stranger brought us, I cannot recall a single one… but I do have in my mind the perfect image of his face, his gesture of coming down to my level, the smile in his own face, and despite the seeming language and cultural differences, the greatest gift he gave me that day was the joy of feeling loved, cared for, understood, heard, seen, accompanied… those are the gifts that change us, and stay with us for a lifetime.