It looks like I won’t be seeing Mom and Dad or the rest of my family in person this Christmas. One of the Jesuits in our community tested positive for Covid this week, the Omicron variant. I had close contact with him recently. All of us need a PCR covid test and the first day we can take it is Christmas day. While my whole family wasn’t going to gather for Christmas this year, I was looking forward to seeing my Mom and Dad for a visit. Now that won’t happen.
While I was out walking last night, however, it occurred to me that the most loving thing to do this Christmas is to not visit Mom and Dad in person. Perhaps we are coming closer to the real meaning of Christmas this year by not being together. Maybe this is the most concrete and profound way for me to say “I love you”.
After all, the babe whose birth we celebrate on Christmas grew up to teach us to love one another. Living out this teaching personally and as a family is to truly celebrate Christmas.
We have not been living in this way in our country in recent years, however. The well-being of others, and particularly the most vulnerable, has often not been our central concern. For some politicians, the quest for re-election or maintaining power has been more important. And many Americans are following their lead. Fear of contingency or our vulnerability during Covid seems to drive such politicians. According to Sebastian Moore, OSB, when persons are afraid of contingency in this sense they attempt to build an idolatrous image of themselves. We have been seeing that they also keep secrets or tell lies that put lives at risk. They are hiding, however. Those who follow their lead try to find security and meaning by being a member of their ‘tribe’. But imbibing the lies and always defining themselves over against the political opposition keeps them from being in touch with reality, seeing and hearing other people, including those who are suffering and dying of Covid 19.
And yet our God comes to us as a babe in a manger, whose mother could not find a room at the inn. As was mentioned, this babe grew up to teach us to love one another. He also insisted that “unless you take up your cross and follow me, you cannot be my disciples.”
This we often seem unwilling to do. Too many of us don’t want to be inconvenienced to keep our neighbors safe, or are unwilling to let go of the tribalism that gives us our sense of identity and worth; some of us slander and even call for violence against people whose commitment and service to others calls into question our attachments. We can’t see one another, or those who are suffering among us. We can’t let ourselves be seen.
This way of proceeding hasn’t worked. Over 800,000 people have died of the virus and countless family members are grieving. We are more divided than ever. Our mental health and well being are at stake.
Loving one another and denying ourselves (ie taking up our cross) is a more fruitful way to approach the pandemic. Maybe the fact that toys and other material goods were slowed in getting to us this year is an invitation to lessen our attachment to “things”. As we die to the false self we have constructed around allegiance to our “tribe” we may discover that we experience new life in just being ourselves. Maybe as our usual ways of gathering are not possible, we can actually start to “see” one another more clearly, as we are open about what is comfortable for us, and what our limitations are. There is a kind of vulnerability in this, not unlike the vulnerability of a babe in a manger. Living in this way, seeing one another and allowing ourselves to be seen, has staying power and gives life. It brings peace. “My peace I give to you,” the grown babe would say, “not as the world gives do I give it to you.”
I pray for my Jesuit brother who has covid. I hope and pray that I and my brothers test negative on Christmas day. But however my own test turns out, I am grateful to have come a little closer to the true meaning of Christmas this year. I’ll see you on Zoom on Christmas Eve, Mom and Dad! I love you!
