Nuala O’Loan
The View
Christmas is upon us. After a year which has been so strange, we look forward to celebrating the birth of our Saviour, the baby Jesus. For most of us it will be, and has been very different this year. Normally on the final Saturday before Christmas the St Vincent de Paul in Ballymena hold their annual street collection. It is almost always very cold, and collectors ranging from late teens to late eighties (and maybe older) stand for two hours at a time inviting people, by their mere presence, to contribute to those who are less fortunate. People are often so very generous, giving what they can. Children and teenagers give very willingly from what may be very limited pockets. People who never set foot inside a church recognise and know about the St Vincent de Paul – sometimes they tell the collectors that, as they give willingly.
That street collection could not happen this year because of Covid, nor could the donation of hampers and toys, and because of this, that particular opportunity to focus on the true spirit of Christmas was lost. Joseph and Mary, homeless in Bethlehem eventually found a poor place to lay their heads, a rough bed for Mary to give birth to her precious baby boy. There are so many people in our world who do not have a real home this Christmas. There will be a lot of people who don’t have the money needed to celebrate as they might wish, who cannot afford the special food for the special day.
Matthew
We have all listened to Matthew’s account of how the Son of Man will come again in his glory, and all the angels with him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, putting the sheep on his right and the goats on his left and how he will say to those on his right, “Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.
“Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”
Our calling is so clear; our task so vividly articulated for us in these words.
There is something very frightening, demoralising and humiliating about not having a home, not being able to give the children what others are getting at Christmas, not being able to buy a gift for a loved relative or friend. Yet, with respect and genuine kindness it is possible to help those who at this time are in need. Across Ireland millions of people will have given generously in the days before Christmas, so that the cold and the isolation of being poor can change and there can be warmth and happiness. Those who gave may even have been beneficiaries as I was, as a little girl after my father died and we were left, eight children and a 33-year-old mother, very poor but not forgotten, as the hamper with all its goodies arrived from the St Vincent de Paul and a tin of Roses chocolates came from the parish priest who knew that little children need sweeties at Christmas! I hope that this Christmas, after a year of such hardship for so many people, the families who find life as difficult as we once did, will know the generosity which made all the difference to us over those difficult years.
Gather
We cannot gather in the numbers we are used to. We cannot pop in and out of houses to wish people a Happy Christmas and leave a small gift. The focus will be different. There will be great sadness for those who look on the empty chairs of those who have died since last Christmas. There will be sadness too, as elderly parents and families wait with love, but some people will not be able to come home because of the travel restrictions and uncertainties, and there will be those who choose to stay away. There will be loneliness, especially now, at Christmas.
Yet we will celebrate again the birth of the baby Jesus, our divine Redeemer. Some parishes have announced there will be no Mass for parishioners to attend on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. There will only be virtual Mass to be watched and prayed through on the computer. Others are being creative and are able to arrange outdoor Masses, drive in Masses, more indoor Masses for smaller congregations. We are blessed in our priests who will make it possible for us, somehow and somewhere, to attend Mass, that most precious part of Christmas.
These are such unprecedented days. There is a massive lesson for us in what has happened this year: we should never take for granted the life that we have. Covid-19 has isolated us and separated us from our friends and our families. It has been a hard year.
Wherever you read this, I hope that a simpler Christmas will mean an easier, less rushed, truer Christmas, one which we will remember with fondness and joy. Perhaps you might want to pray to Jesus using the words of St Bernard of Clairvaux: “You have come to us as a small child, but you have brought us the greatest of all gifts, the gift of eternal love. Caress us with your tiny hands, embrace us with your tiny arms and pierce our hearts with your soft, sweet cries.”
