Fergal Mac Eoinín If it weren’t for the American networks, the religious story of God being born at Christmas would struggle to find airspace. The fat benign cult of lavish materialism jingles its bells to fill the empty spaces which hope had wanted to fill. The cry from the manger is easily muffled for it says something that many people still fear. Christmas is a revolution. In the Gospel tomorrow we hear Mary sing of a new order that would cast princes from their thrones, feed the hungry and punish the rich. The woman was full of hope. She believed the world needed a change. She gave birth to a child who would revolutionise the old ideas of revolt.
History is cluttered with the tales of revolts and other popular insurrections against governing classes. The images of barricades, banners and Lady Liberty are the proud relics of the acceptable ones. The bearded anarchist with a Molotov cocktail is the icon of the less acceptable ones. The Song of Mary was a call to a new social order but her son was to choose a different path to revolution. He would bring change by converting people one by one. He would attract people to his cause by encouraging his followers to find the good in themselves as in others. There would be no force or coercion in his plan. There would be no violence or mass demonstrations. What other person who was trying to change the world would advocate rendering unto Caesar the things that were Caesar’s? Or advise his followers to give their tunics to the one who demanded their coats? To turn the other cheek? To walk the extra mile? To sort yourself out first before fixing your neighbour?
The greatest revolution is the effort to always choose what is good. Liberation is something that a clean conscience achieves. There is also a manner of dissent in his plan. If you find that somebody is disrespectful of you, you shake the dust off your feet and leave these people behind. Shaking the dust off our feet means finishing up our affairs honestly and then, when our obligations are completed, we walk away. Economically this is risky, socially it can exclude us from certain company but, spiritually, we honour our honour most.
The Christmas scene is familiar to us all still. It is the image of a young, struggling family. They were surrounded by the reality of dung, beasts and straw whilst honoured by gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. Despite its brokenness it competes with its paradoxical charm. Finding some charm in our own world of imperfect situations is the call from the crib. As people we spend far more time telling stories about things that are wrong rather than things that are good. Death is a more riveting tale than birth. Christmas is a chance to turn that around. The thoughtfulness that comes in gift and gesture, the safety of the company of friends and the knowing that this is what you truly love is the spirit of Christmas. It was the Prophet Malachi who said Christ would turn the hearts of fathers to their children and of children to their fathers.
Even gentle revolutions have their sticking points. Christmas is a time to let what is good in you make the decisions. It would first require that you address any of your own practices that might generally cause upset. It might expect you to overlook (forgive?) the ill-advised comment of a drunken relation last year. Then, surrounded by family, friends and pets, to see clearly what is good in your world and how good you are in theirs.