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The Nativity of the Lord – Christmas (Mass During the Night) | December 25, 2024

See today’s readings here. Video recordings of the Sunday evening Mass, where Fr. Brian regularly preaches, are available on Facebook at Delaware Koinonia. The archive of all of Fr. Brian’s homilies can be found hereSalesian Sermons


This past Spring I had the opportunity to travel to El Salvador on a cultural immersion trip to learn about the legacy of the brutal civil war that rent the nation apart for decades.

At one point, we were with Rita and Morena, two of our host families as they shared stories of their flight to nearby Honduras and their return to their hometown that had been razed to the ground.

Everything was seemingly lost.

And yet, as they stared around at the devastation, one of their neighbors built a small fire and began to boil some water, tossing in some of the ingredients they had brought.

Little by little, each survivor shared their own ingredients until a robust stew was simmering over the flames.

And that first night, they shared a meal together.  All of them huddled in the warmth of the dying embers.  Enjoying the soup that was only possible because they each shared all that they had, meager as it was.

And then the next morning, they began the work of rebuilding.  Brick by brick.  Until all was restored.  

I found the story deeply moving.

But what really hit home was what these women were doing as they shared this story.

They were making another stew for all of us.

Each contributing from ingredients that they had brought from their own homes.

Reaching into their meager supplies, they chose to feed a bunch of strangers. Sharing all they had for the sake of us.

It was as if their lives were a series of stews that they continued to create.  

Building community out of the meager offering of their lives.

Circling around countless fires.  Trusting that they would be enough.

Enough to feed all who were hungry.  Enough for all who were seeking refuge, comfort, strength.

Waking each morning and continuing the work of rebuilding the world entrusted into their hands.

Maybe, after spending that time in El Salvador, I am not surprised that it was shepherds who first heard the message of Good News all those years ago.

For to those who had spent their lives on the outskirts.

Those who had huddled in the cold winter nights around a small fire, struggling to stay warm.

Those who had known the sting of hunger.  The fear of violence.  The isolation of loneliness.

How could they not be waiting for an invitation to something better.

To a life free from fear.  To a life of peace.  To a life of joy.

Is it any wonder that they responded so enthusiastically?

Arriving to the Christ-child with nothing but themselves and whatever little they carried.

Offering those meager gifts.

And trusting like Rita and Morena that they would be enough.

Enough to forge a community.  Enough to strengthen them to return to the world bearing the good news.  Ushering in the reign of God that had been promised. That they had waited for.

I don’t know about you, but it feels like our lives can be so far removed from the lives of those shepherds or from Rita and Morena and the people of El Salvador.

The comfort of our modern age can make it almost impossible to imagine the margins in which they lived.

And yet, I wonder if they do not hold the key to the Christmas holiday that we celebrate this night.

To see in our own lives the places in which our offerings feel so meager, in which our poverty feels so real.  The desolate spaces that feel dark, empty, barren, reduced to rubble.

The imposter syndrome.  The anxiety.  The feelings of inadequacy in all of the many hats we wear.  The fear we have about the future.  The regrets we have about the past.  The fractured relationships.  The scars and wounds we carry.  The losses.  The grief.  

All of it.

And allow us to meet the Christ-child who waits there.

Taking all that we bring and gently stirring it together to feed us all.  Nourishing us here around this altar.  

Sending us forth to then bear the good news into the margins that always exist. Waiting for the light, the joy, the peace that we can bring.  

It feels fitting my friends that tonight we feast.  We feast on the gift that the Lord has created from each of us who have gathered here.  From our most meager offerings.  

For tomorrow and every day, we return to the work.  Of building this kingdom announced by the angels.

To be peace-makers.

To share joy. To dispel fear.

To do justice.

To walk humbly with our God.

Glory to God in the highest we proclaim.  And on earth, peace to those on whom God’s favor rests.

May God be Praised 


IMAGE ATTRIBUTION: Koenig, Peter. Christmas Triptych, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=58498 [retrieved January 3, 2025]. Original source: Peter Winfried (Canisius) Koenig, https://www.pwkoenig.co.uk/.

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