CARITAS CORNER: Encountering Our Neighbors This Advent Season

By Andy Barton

Christmas is amazing. It is a homage to the singular, foundational event of Christianity, yet it is celebrated and promoted by people worldwide, regardless of faith.  In the United States, it is the only religious day that is also a federal holiday. Whether you go to midnight Mass, Christmas Eve service, or make a point to say “Happy holidays,” if you engage with the holiday season, you are acknowledging the birth of Christ. And regardless of what you believe in that respect, you cannot deny the central importance of the implications of that idea.

For many people, especially non-Christians, the circulation of the Christmas story comes through music.  Christmas carols tell of a silent, holy, night and the herald angels sing while transcending religious identity as they pass from year to year. They are transmitted everywhere from commercial radio and television to our stores and offices. This telling of the story through song is ancient in its tradition yet ubiquitous in our modern society; still, the source for our understanding comes from scripture where the story of Christ’s birth is related separately in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke. Only in the latter do we hear directly from Mary. Upon her visit from the angel Gabriel, Luke writes:

“And Mary said: ‘My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord; my spirit rejoices in God my savior . . . His mercy is from age to age to those who fear him. He has shown might with his arm, dispersed the arrogant of mind and heart. He has thrown down the rulers from their thrones but lifted up the lowly. The hungry he has filled with good things; the rich he has sent away empty.’” (Lk1:46-53)

As Christians, we understand that Jesus is a savior for us all, but, as the Canticle of Mary reminds us, he is, foremost, a savior for the poor. This notion that God saw the poor among humankind and sent a savior to lift them up is, quite simply, one of the most powerful ideas of all time. For Christians, it is foundational to our faith. For non-Christians it is a story or myth; however, the implications are no less profound. Even as a myth, it is the acknowledgment of the centrality of care for the poor to all of civilization. For non-believers who celebrate Christmas, there is an understanding that the season is, in some respect, about caring for the poor. 

On this point, I can speak with some authority. I did not attend church on Christmas until I was in my late twenties. I did not attend Christmas Eve Mass until I was 37. My conversion to Catholicism came less than 10 years ago at the Easter Vigil in 2015. Today, my faith allows me to have a more profound experience of Advent and Christmas; yet, for the first half of my life as an effective atheist, I still understood that the “reason for the season” was, in part, to care for our neighbors who were less fortunate.

My worry today is that we, Christians and non-Christians alike, are drifting away from this meaning at a time when our poor need it more than ever.  This struck me recently when an acquaintance who lives in an affluent suburban neighborhood shared that he and his wife would not come downtown because the presence of homeless individuals made them feel uncomfortable. In our modern day, this boycott comes without sacrifice. E-commerce has made it possible for those with the means to buy anything without ever leaving their homes. 

The concern goes beyond where people choose to do their Christmas shopping. It is, instead, about how we encounter each other, especially the least of our brothers and sisters. More and more, technology makes it possible for us to insulate ourselves from the full range of humanity. While this may enhance our sense of safety and comfort, hiding our eyes from the poor is hiding our eyes from the face of Christ. Christ is not in the lights and decor, the company parties, or the Amazon delivery truck this Advent and Christmas: Christ is in the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, and the stranger.  When we stop encountering the fullness of our humanity, we lose something of ourselves, and we weaken the fabric of our communities.

Christmas is a story and celebration of love — God’s love for mankind manifested in the Incarnation. We must ask ourselves, either aloud or in the quiet contemplation of prayer, whether our love is aligned. Does our love reach out to touch our neighbor in need, or does it retreat in fear of the wealth, power, or pride that could be lost?  Let us rejoice at the true story of Christmas by opening our eyes and our hearts to our poor.  In that way, we get to participate in the most important story mankind has ever told.