Homily for Christmas Vigil Mass
A while back, I was traveling on a late Friday night flight. Everyone was tired and not too engaged. As the passengers settled in their seats, they withdrew into their cocoons. Some pulled out their phone, or laptop, or a book or a magazine. Some just leaned back and tried to fall asleep (like the really big guy sitting next to me). Although the plane was crowded, most everyone sat in isolation, alone in their bubble.
The last passengers to board the plane were a mom with a little toddler in tow, maybe about two or three years old. She had all the bags and accessories a mom needs to travel alone with a young child. With a plane load of people anxious for take-off, there were probably a few that were thinking, “How long will it take her to get settled.”
With her arms loaded with stuff, she had the toddler lead the way down the narrow aisle. She must have told the toddler to say ‘excuse me’ if we bump into anyone.’ As the mom bumbled down the aisle, the child announced in a loud voice, over and over again, “Excuse me.”
It was precious. Hearing the innocent little voice of the child, everyone in the plane stopped what they were doing, and looked with wonder and a smile on his or her face. Instantly, two hundred individual bubbles enclosing the passengers on the plane popped. For a moment, their loneliness and isolation disappeared. People were not only smiling at the child, but they were smiling and nodding at each other. It was like they were saying, “We’ve just experienced something wonderful.”
The simple, endearing words from the mouth of a young child, “Excuse me”, reunited the people on the plane, at least for a few minutes. If one ordinary child can change the community in the plane, think about how the birth of the son of God can change the human family.
Christmas is our celebration of the God of the universe breaking into our world of selfishness, loneliness, sadness, and pain and saying, “Excuse me!”
Christmas is God’s way of trying to pop your bubble. You have a choice. You can stay in your bubble or recognize that something wonderful has happened that will change your life and the life of the world.
~
What’s in my bubble? What’s keeping me from making this connection? My biggest triggers are being unappreciated and being forgotten or overlooked.
A lot of these feelings go back to my childhood. Birth order, I was number four of five children and a boy. Being a little shy and quiet, I often felt I was overlooked. I put this to the test. I decided I wasn’t going to utter a word and see how long it would take for anyone in my family to notice. Two days later, no one noticed. I started speaking again, but the experiment reinforced my feelings that I don’t matter.
This led to personality traits as an adult to be independent, control things, not trust others, and go at things alone. This may have been a good strategy in life, but it checkered my relationship with God. Trusting, surrendering and relationships are key to a deepening faith.
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I recently popped this bubble. The bubble didn’t pop on the plane, but in doing a scriptural meditation on the Nativity. Saint Ignatius says, “Use your imagination.” And I did. I placed myself in the scene and let my imagination wander, and almost had a dream-like experience.
I imagined I was a 12-year-old boy, orphaned and without a home. Wearing rags, no sandals on my feet. I was alone on the roadside as the travelers passed by. This is a metaphor for the unpleasant memories of my childhood.
After a while, Mary and Joseph came by on their way to Bethlehem. I sensed something different about them, an optimism and determination. Hope. I started to follow them at a distance. They would see me out of the corner of their eye but not engage. Every once in a while they would leave a little food behind. As we got closer to Bethlehem, I started getting closer to their campsite. Sometimes I would see something that needed to be done, and I would do it.
We arrived at the stable. By this time I was more present, but still mostly invisible. I could tell the baby was coming. I looked for ways I could help. Silently I would bring wood, or water, or clean rags. Joseph and I were working silently in tandem, doing what needed to be done. Still, there was no acknowledgment of my presence, but I started feeling like I had a purpose. I belonged.
After a flurry of activity, the baby came. That’s when Joseph finally met my eyes. He said, “You did well, son.” I was bursting with pride, and his comment brought tears to my eyes. Mary was pure joy holding the baby. She nodded toward me, and said, “Thank you.” My heart sang with delight. I’m noticed. I am appreciated.
No longer an orphan in rags, I felt I had a purpose, I belonged to a family, and I was precious in the presence of this baby. As I gazed upon the infant, my whole life came into focus. The image erased the loneliness and isolation I felt as a child, and as an adult the sense that I’m not appreciated or don’t matter.
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Pope Benedict said, “God has done everything; he has done the impossible: he was made flesh. His all-powerful love has accomplished something that surpasses all human understanding: the Infinite has become a child, and has entered the human family. And yet, this same God cannot enter my heart unless I open the door to him.”
In that moment, the realization that God had come into the world for me opened the door of my heart.
~
The phrase “Excuse me” has several meanings, depending upon how it’s said and where it’s said. You bump into a person, it’s polite to say, “Excuse me.” When you want to get someone’s attention, especially if they’re misbehaving. You don’t ever want to hear your teacher say, “Excuse me.” The birth of Jesus is a little of both, bumping into our world and knocking us out of our funk. God wants us to become part of his family but we’re too wrapped up in our selfishness and self-pity. Excuse me. Focus now!
There is a third meaning. When someone has been hurt. Excuse me is like saying, “I’m sorry.” In my healing image at the nativity, the baby was saying the third type. Excuse me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had so much loneliness when you were growing up. I’m sorry your parents didn’t notice you. No longer. I am with you now, and forever.
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The Nativity is the God of the universe saying to you “Excuse me.” Get out of your bubble. This is Emmanuel. He also says, “I’m sorry it’s been so hard. I have come to heal your wounds so you are no longer held back by the pains of your past.
“Will you open the door of your broken heart to me?”
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