Emmanuel - A Christmas Reflection

 

God with Us 

A Christmas Reflection

Each December, our homes and hearts are filled with festive carols joyfully proclaiming the approaching Christmas season. We sing of decking the halls, trimming the tree, and exchanging gifts with loved ones. And as followers of Christ, we find our greatest joy in songs proclaiming the First Noel, of the babe who sleeps Away in a Manger, of the Little Town of Bethlehem, of a Midnight Clear, a Silent Night, a Holy Night, of Angels We Have Heard On High, proclaiming Joy to the World. And although “O Come All Ye Faithful” has replaced “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” as an opening song at our liturgies during the Christmas Season, I have to admit, the latter is a hymn I still sing, not just during Advent, and not just at Christmas, but continually throughout the year, because it is my deepest prayer, my most profound pleading: “O Come, O Come Emmanuel … Come into my life. Be present to me. Open my eyes to see you at work in my world and in my life. Touch me, love me, heal me, show mercy to me, be gracious to me.”

Emmanuel means “God with us.” It means Christ is near to us in our struggles and accomplishments, in our happiness and pain. This is truly the “good news of great joy” that the angels proclaimed to the shepherds keeping the night watch over their flocks on the first Christmas night. Our Savior and Redeemer, the King of the Universe, came to live among us as a child, to begin a life of taking upon himself all the joys and sorrows of humanity. Having walked this earth as one of us, he understands what it is to be human. That choice to make himself known to us in so relatable a manner is the mystery of the Incarnation, the miracle we celebrate each Christmas.

Among all the titles that we use to proclaim our faith in Jesus, Emmauel is the most meaningful one for me. There are only a handful of names in scripture that define, not just who Jesus is, but how He loves. And the one used by the prophet Isaiah about 2,700 years ago to refer to the savior promised to Adam, to Abraham, and to all the Jews awaiting the redemption of Israel, the one that the angel tells Joseph that the child Mary carries will be called, is for me the greatest demonstration of this.

It is a title. A promise. A declaration about the character of God. Before Jesus touched a single leper, before He calmed a single storm, before He taught a single sermon on a hillside, the message had already been revealed: God is not distant. God is not a watching spectator. God is not removed from human experience. God is with us. God is not God above us. Not God beyond us. Not God observing us. He is God with us. In homes. In hospitals. At weddings. At funerals. In laughter. In brokenness. In moments of questioning. In ordinary days that suddenly turn sacred. God is with us, perfectly and fully with us in Jesus.

Emmanuel is not confined to Christmas. He is not trapped in nativity scenes. He is not chained to ancient stories. He is here. Now. Still. He doesn’t always part the sea. He doesn’t always calm the storm. He doesn’t always stop the tragedy. But He never, ever, leaves us alone in it. He comes in word, in sacrament, in prayer, and when two or three are gathered in his name. He comes in “God Winks,” those coincidences that really aren’t coincidences. He comes as presence. He comes as comfort. He comes as promises whispered by the Spirit. He comes as the quiet strength to take another step, as promptings that enter our minds with unmistakable clarity, as peace that settles in at the very moment fear threatens to overwhelm, in Scripture verses that feel tailor-made for our need, in dreams that we just know have deeper meaning than mere sleep-induced memories or fantasies. He comes as the reminder that this life is not the whole story.

Emmanuel – God with us. It’s a truth that God does not want us to forget. It’s the first truth that began Matthew’s gospel with the angel’s annunciation to Joseph. It’s the final truth that ends his gospel - Jesus’ final words to his Apostles, and to us: “I will be with you always, until the end of the age” (Mt 28:20).

But there is another way in which Christ is Emmanuel; another way he is “God with us.” It’s a way that is often forgotten, overlooked, dismissed, minimized, or at least unappreciated. At least, until very recently, it was by me. And that reality is that Christ is present in his Church, the People of God. When we think of “Church,” often we think of the institution, the building, the hierarchy of the pope, the bishops, the priests, religious brothers and sisters, of religious practices, of doctrine, of laws and regulations. And we forget the great truth that St. Paul spoke of over and over again in his Letters – in 1 Corinthians, in Ephesians, in Colossians, in Romans – that the Church is the mystical Body of Christ, the physical manifestation of Christ in the world today.

Some realities are heard, are taught, are learned, and then stored away somewhere in our mind. And that’s where they remain. But sometimes, we are blessed that what was merely theological jargon becomes an experienced reality, felt, when love fills in the gaps that doctrine cannot always reach.

Existentialist philosopher wrote in his play No Exit that “Hell is other people.” But I have found the truth to be just the opposite … that CHRIST is other people – when the gospel is proclaimed, not by words, but by action, by attitudes of concern, kindness, generosity, compassion, inclusion, mercy, selflessness, justice, self-sacrifice, sincerity, and prayer that is other centered.

Three or four years ago, I started a new Christmas tradition. On Christmas Eve, I sit in front of my Nativity and speak to Baby Jesus. Out loud. Sometimes I’ll read to him something I’ve written. Sometimes, I actually sing to him. I’ll thank him for his blessings, for answered prayers, and for the people he has put in my life. But the majority of my time with him is spent thanking him for being Emmanuel and recounting all the times I was keenly aware of his presence in my life since the last Christmas. Prayer, as you know is conversation, a dialogue. We talk, but we also listen. So, often, I’ll keep a pen and pad of paper nearby in case there’s something he inspires me to write down, something he wants me to know and remember. These are the words he put into my mind and heart this year:

Emmanuel, God with us ... 

In the nod from the passerby who acknowledges my presence when it seems that all others have forgotten me.

Emmanuel, God with us ... 

In the mind and soul of the one that remembers to offer a prayer for me.

Emmanuel, God with us ... 

In the eyes of a friend which tears up at my sorrows and sees goodness in me even when I can't.

Emmanuel, God with us ... 

In the shoulders that carry me through rough times when my own legs can't bear the weight of all that I carry.

Emmanuel, God with us ... 

In the arms of acceptance that embrace me, despite my wretchedness.

Emmanuel, God with us ... 

In the gentle voice of reassurance that God loves me ... and that they do too.

Emmanuel, God with us ... 

In the infectious smile whose warmth and brilliance melts the frigid insensitivity of the world.

Emmanuel, God with us ... 

In the heart whose every beat pulsates overwhelming compassion, mercy, and generosity.

Emmanuel, God with us.

St. Teresa of Avila once wrote,

Christ has no body now, but yours.

No hands, no feet on earth but yours.

Yours are the eyes through which

Christ looks compassion into the world.

Yours are the feet through which

Christ walks to do good.

Yours are the hands through which

Christ blesses the world.

Thank you to all of you who have been the hands, the feet, the eyes, the very heart of Christ to me this year.

Emmanuel … God with us.
Emmanuel … God with me.