The Christmas Mass
Homily Text by Abbot Peter McCarthy
Given at Midnight Mass, December 25th, 2009
Dom Peter McCarthy has served our community as abbot since 1995.
Our Christmas Poet, Geoffrey Hill, writes:
At this dark solstice filled with frost and fire
Your passion’s ancient wounds must bleed anew.
So many nights the angel of my house
has fed such urgent comfort through a dream,
whispered ‘your lord is coming, he is close’
that I have drowsed half-faithful for a time
bathed in pure tones of promise and remorse:
‘tomorrow I shall wake to welcome him.’
My brothers and friends, the primary focus and fascination of a child at Christmas, as our former Abbot, Bernard McVeigh, would tell us, is not the gifts under the tree - anymore than it is for adults. The primary fascination of Christmas is the play of warm light in the cold darkness. Think of candles burning on a windowsill or the lights of the Christmas tree.
The play of light in the darkness is a core life tension basic to the human heart, the human soul. Just close your eyes and you immediately know why human consciousness ,that’s you and me, has been described as a tiny raft of light floating on a vast inner sea of darkness.
Could this be why Christmas appeals to us so powerfully? Could this be why Christmas awakens the child in us? It is the reflection of the frost and fire within the human heart. It is the realization of the ancient promise of the Prophet Isaiah in our first reading:
“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.
Upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom a light has shone.”
In our second reading, the apostle Paul writes to Titus of “waiting for hope.” Imagine! A dark place to be!
“As we await the blessed hope, the appearance of the glory
of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ.”
And finally in the Gospel, St Luke points to the shepherds, the very first human beings to hear the Christmas Gospel:
“Now there were shepherds in that region living in the fields
and watching during the night over their flock.”
My friends, all shepherds who watch in the night know that the miracle of Christmas is about discovering new life where we did not expect life to be. The Christmas Gospel tells us something totally unexpected about this vast experience of darkness in our lives.
“And here you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.
Do not be afraid, I bring you news of great joy.
Today in the town of David a savior has been born to you.”
Is it difficult for me to really believe this Gospel this Christmas night? To believe that the one major function of my own darkness, whatever the cause, is always to bring me to new life, to new hope, reaching out to me in the language of human flesh in the manger of Bethlehem.
I am reminded of an Iranian Christmas prayer sent to me several years ago by a friend:
“If, as with King Herod,
We are so afraid of the dark within we fill our lives with things
And fill every moment of our lives with action;
When will we have the time to make the long, slow journey across the dark
desert, as did the Magi?
Or sit in the night and watch the stars, as did the Shepherds?
Or patiently cherish the vast mystery within us, as did Mary?
For each of us
There is a dark desert to travel
A star to discover in the night
And a being within the vast mystery of ourselves
To bring to life.
With the shepherds we are asked to watch in this Christmas night … this night, which symbolizes the darkness around us and within us … and we are watching with these Gospel shepherds when, in our hearts, there is more wonder than familiarity, more childlike trust than cynicism, more love than indifference, more forgiveness than bitterness, and more focus on others than on ourselves.
Jesus is born again tonight in our watching; he is born helpless and vulnerable and he looks at each of us quietly even as we look back at Him and he judges us in that way in which vulnerability forever judges false strength, transparency judges duplicity, innocence judges over-sophistication, and a new born baby, gently and disarmingly, calls forth what’s best in us.
Let us pray for one another this Christmas morning… let us pray, once more, for the grace and the courage to return to the crib of Bethlehem.
+ Abbot Peter