Today we celebrate the great feast of the birth of Jesus, the feast that, in a way, changes everything: the arrival of that child, and the good news that he announced, marked a turning point in the history of the human family. For believers, the feast of the incarnation means a profound transformation of the very idea of God: the haughty and distant God in whom we had believed, sometimes indifferent, other vengeful, always a judge, now comes to us in this poor and trembling baby, guarded only by his parents, humble and simple people, and an ox, and a cow. And that new identity of God, made one among us, is, indeed, an immense reason for joy.
One of the most endearing Christmas texts is the one we read, in preparation for today’s feast, on the fourth Sunday of Advent: the visitation of Mary, pregnant with Jesus, to Elizabeth, pregnant with John the Baptist. In this passage, Luke underlines precisely the joy that the presence of the child Jesus (in his mother’s womb) provokes around him: both Elizabeth and Mary herself are filled with joy, and the child John «leaps for joy» in Isabel’s belly.
Do we leap for joy when we feel close the presence of God?
It is a question worth asking. Because it is intriguing to observe that, often, the reaction that a closeness to the sacred provokes in us is not the reaction of John the Baptist—not one of joy, but of fear. Or guilt. Or both at the same time. Can we imagine Elizabeth saying to Mary, «When your greeting reached my ears, the child began to tremble with fear in my womb»? Or, «When your greeting reached my ears, the creature began to beat its chest, saying “through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault”»? And yet, that seems to be, sometimes, our response, when we feel the proximity of God.
These are perhaps understandable reactions. The divine is immeasurable: confronted with it, we become aware of our smallness, and, since we have been taught since childhood that God is a severe judge, then his closeness terrifies us. And our guilt seems more obvious to us, in his presence: this is what happened to Peter, that when he understood who Jesus was, and then exclaimed «Leave me, Lord, I am a sinful man» (Lk 5: 8).
And yet, these are reactions that respond to a pre-Christian idea of God—reactions that do not consider the Gospel. The fear and trembling that the sacred causes us is rooted in the experience of cultures that associated God with the terrible phenomena of nature, and that developed the idea of a God who, in any case, had to be appeased with our sacrifices. And all that has nothing to do with Jesus and his message; indeed, that is precisely what Jesus came to dismantle, with his good news that God is a merciful father, who loves us beyond comprehension.
To fully understand Christmas is to understand that the God in whom we, Christians, believe should always be, for us, a source of joy. Because Christmas means that God is not a judge, but a brother, who does not come to condemn us, but to walk with us, who does not look at us with disdain, but with tenderness, a God that we should not worry about appeasing, whom we should rather thank for all his goodness.
The question that we should then ask ourselves is whether with our behavior and attitudes we help to communicate that the closeness of God is comfort, and reason for happiness, or not. There is no doubt that sometimes, with our severity, with our rigidity and harshness, even with our bitterness, what we do is perpetuate the idea (this pre-Christian idea which contradicts the Gospels) that, before God, the most logical attitude is to be scared. When, in fact, the most natural thing would be to react like John the Baptist: leaping for joy.
A very blessed and merry Christmas to everyone!
