The Catholic New World: Observations, by Tom Sheridan

Every year around this time, I start looking for miracles. For instance, it’s a major miracle if all the lights on our Christmas tree work right out of the box. It’s a minor miracle if they don’t work and I can fix them.

This year … no miracle.

When we put up our tree, one set, right there near the top, simply refused to light. I changed the bulbs, swapped the fuses, even shook it once or twice. OK, I shook it once to try to fix it; once just out of frustration. Nothing.

But because the bulbs are built in, it was either use it or get a new tree. We chose to use it, bending some of the lighted branches up, others down, trying to hide the dark spot.

It doesn’t quite succeed. And our Christmas tree, though blazing with lights, has a spot where darkness reigns. My wife—who is usually better at these things than I—put that in perspective: “It’s OK; people have dark spots, too.” She’s right, of course.

But recognizing the darkness that’s part of our lives is a major element of what Christianity—and maybe especially our Christmas celebration—is all about.

Sometimes, in all the peripherals of the Christmas season, in the lights and the tree, the shopping and the parties, it’s easy to forget the heart of the season.

And no, it’s not just the child in the manger.

Christmas prepares us for the adult Jesus, the Jesus who explodes into our lives with a cry for justice.

At its heart, Christmas isn’t about cows mooing or little boys drumming. Or a pretty snow scene with Santa, the elves and gifts. Instead, it’s the beginning of a story of honesty, of equality, of respect, of challenge.

When the holidays are over—when the decorations are put away, when the broken toys are tossed out, when the darkness of January settles back in—Christmas is supposed to have somehow changed us.

I believe people really want to be changed. In our hearts, we all want to be better … better parents, better believers, better people.

How can we change? Yes, each of us has a dark spot. But just as important this Christmas—especially for us as believers—we have to recognize there’s darkness in our lives, no matter how sunshiny a day.

Luke’s Gospel, which we’re reading in this scriptural cycle, is called the “Gospel of the Poor”—with good reason. It challenges those of us who have enough to remember that people, across the street and across the globe, live in darkness.

It’s the darkness of not enough food. It’s the darkness of not enough clothing, not enough shelter, not enough medicine. And, worst of all, it’s the darkness of not enough hope.

No, this is definitely not the Christmas story we’re used to hearing. But it’s why we prepare in Advent to welcome at Christmas a holy child who became a holy man who proclaimed a Gospel that forces us to look into that darkness.

If we can’t eliminate all the darkness, can’t feed all the hungry, can’t shelter all the homeless—and we really can’t, not alone—then, by God, we can find a way to bring hope. Even if just a little.

Tonight, when night falls, disconnect just one string of lights on your Christmas tree, or one string of lights around your front door. See the dark spot. Don’t fix it. Instead, this Christmas, be changed. Find a way to conquer the darkness in even just one life.

Finally, from the homes of those of us who minister at The Catholic New World, to your homes, may you have a happy, and prayerful, Christmas.