GOD HAS SENT ANGELS AMONG US AMID SUFFERING

The sheer beauty of the birth of Jesus Christ — God coming into the world as a little child filled with innocence and hope — captivates the whole world at Christmas with the ultimate sign of divine grace and love.

But it is this very beauty that distracts us from the reality of suffering and hardship that confronted Mary and Joseph in bringing their son safely into the world. The Gospel of Luke tells us that Jesus’ parents had to leave their home in Nazareth and travel the arduous journey to Bethlehem in the final days of Mary’s pregnancy. Seeking shelter at an inn, they were forced to stay in a stable because there was no room. They were literally homeless at the most vulnerable time of their lives.

Christ’s entry into the world is more than the revelation of a child born in innocence and hope. It is also, and equally importantly, God’s consolation and comfort that in the most difficult moments of our lives as individuals and as a society, divine grace is intimately present with us. And in this moment in our history, it is this dimension of God’s action that is most precious.

Religious hope is not the belief that everything will come out all right in our lives and in our world. That is mere optimism. Religious hope is the conviction that precisely in times of suffering and hardship, God will find a way to accompany us, personally and constantly. In these days of pandemic, economic struggle, sickness and isolation, God still stands with us.

In a very real way, we mirror the journey of Mary and Joseph in this Christmas season. They had to leave behind their familiar home to come to a distant city to experience the birth of their first-born child without any support of family and friends to help them through. We, in these days of pandemic, are having to leave behind for a period of time our own familiar lives and patterns, with all of the joy and security that they bring to us. This sacrifice is especially burdensome in this season of Christmas, when all of the wondrous

miraculous. Hope is essential even in the midst of despair. Hope is simultaneously an act of defiance and an act of love. Joy is an expression of spiritual resistance and one of resilience. Perhaps there is no essential difference between the natural and the miraculous if we see our lives as opportunities for gratitude, rededication and the embodiment of hope.

There is disagreement in the literature as to how the Hanukkah lights are to be kindled. Should the holiday begin with all eight candles lit and decrease them for each subsequent night, or should the holiday begin with the first light and increase the candlelight over the eight days? Was the most meaningful way to celebrate in accordance with the service of an average person whose emotions might likely be at their height on the first night and drop off as the days of the holiday continue, or was it one of inward joy increasing day to day? The prevailing custom is to increase the light, thereby increasing the experience of the sacred, so that the end of the holiday has all homes filled with light and warmth. After the year we have all lived, increasing and sustaining joy and gratitude may be more challenging than ever, but amidst all the difficulty, we are reminded of the human capacity to find light, joy and even miracles in our daily lives.

I think about the frontline health care workers; the grocery store, supply chain, food and retail, hospitality and service workers; the teachers, the students, the parents and caregivers; the volunteers; the artists, actors, musicians, dancers; the public and civil servants; those whose homes feel empty, those whose homes feel overfull, and those without homes; those who can’t cook one more meal, and those who don’t know where their next meal is coming from — all of us — who have been surviving, caring, holding on, crying, mourning, loving and living as the “first night” miracles. This year we light our candles through the loneliness, the fragility, the disconnect, the fear and anxiety; we light them with resolute faith and hope.

In every age, each of us can be a hero or a sage, gathering what remains in the rubble, to rebuild ourselves and our communities. May each of us have the courage to find the flask of oil, however small, to light our way forward, together.