My good Irish friend Donncha was convinced that if every Catholic in San Francisco put a nativity scene in their front window this December, the City would change. The problem with our cities, he rightly observed, is that we rush back and forth from work to play, from expensive restaurants to expensive entertainment, and we don’t stop to look at Jesus. We have forgotten the fundamental truth of human existence: that God became human so that humans could become like God. We have forgotten the real meaning of Christmas, even though everyone longs for the spirit of Christmas. Macy’s on Union Square, for example, has a brightly lit wreath filling every window on every one of their eight floors, and Union Square itself has a 50 foot Christmas tree dominating the sky. Despite all this “Christmas spirit,” few remember the genesis of our celebration. So, Donncha said, we have to remind each other. And there’s nothing like a Nativity scene to reawaken our memory for the beautiful.
I’m writing these lines on Christmas Eve from my office above Geary Boulevard, where Donncha and his Irish carpenters have built a life size Nativity scene on the steps of our church. From my desk I can hear the excited screams of children as they look at the five-foot, three-D figures of Wise Men, Shepherds, Joseph, Mary, and the Bambino Gesù. From my window, I can see people stopping to look, to take pictures, to make the sign of the cross as they balance shopping bags. Whole families spend 20 minutes in front of the scene, as if looking into a mirror. Their children dance about, and the parents stop to talk to each other, as if at a festival. They’ve never seen anything like this, although they’ve heard about it. They dimly remember someone telling them about a poor little family in Bethlehem, and a baby born in a stable with a cow and a donkey keeping the newborn child warm in the dead of winter.
The people of San Francisco immediately respond to that family. They feel at home in this Nativity scene. Marriage, family, and home have been denied to most of them. They’ve been told in school that marriage is bondage and only for those with weak minds. Most have been taught that there is no such thing as a “natural family” because life is only about power. “What’s Love Got To Do With It” they’ve heard on iTunes. There is no “home” beyond the little world you make up in your head (with the help of your headphones). Two generations of Americans have been deprived of family life, and when they see a family, they are fascinated, captivated, and consoled. Dare I believe that I too have a place in this family, or even that I can have a family of my own some day?
Donncha was right. If every Catholic put a Nativity scene on their lawn or in their window, this country would change. I can see the joy, the hope, and the excitement of average San Franciscans stopping to look his Nativity scene on my front steps. One man, excitedly taking pictures, asked if he could go in the church. He was Eritrean Orthodox and not sure if a Catholic Church would allow him in. I welcomed him in, of course, and he said that all his churches in Eritrea had these Nativity scenes in December. “This scene makes me feel at home,” he said. I said it made me feel at home too.
I’m writing these lines on Christmas Eve from my office above Geary Boulevard, where Donncha and his Irish carpenters have built a life size Nativity scene on the steps of our church. From my desk I can hear the excited screams of children as they look at the five-foot, three-D figures of Wise Men, Shepherds, Joseph, Mary, and the Bambino Gesù. From my window, I can see people stopping to look, to take pictures, to make the sign of the cross as they balance shopping bags. Whole families spend 20 minutes in front of the scene, as if looking into a mirror. Their children dance about, and the parents stop to talk to each other, as if at a festival. They’ve never seen anything like this, although they’ve heard about it. They dimly remember someone telling them about a poor little family in Bethlehem, and a baby born in a stable with a cow and a donkey keeping the newborn child warm in the dead of winter.
The people of San Francisco immediately respond to that family. They feel at home in this Nativity scene. Marriage, family, and home have been denied to most of them. They’ve been told in school that marriage is bondage and only for those with weak minds. Most have been taught that there is no such thing as a “natural family” because life is only about power. “What’s Love Got To Do With It” they’ve heard on iTunes. There is no “home” beyond the little world you make up in your head (with the help of your headphones). Two generations of Americans have been deprived of family life, and when they see a family, they are fascinated, captivated, and consoled. Dare I believe that I too have a place in this family, or even that I can have a family of my own some day?
Donncha was right. If every Catholic put a Nativity scene on their lawn or in their window, this country would change. I can see the joy, the hope, and the excitement of average San Franciscans stopping to look his Nativity scene on my front steps. One man, excitedly taking pictures, asked if he could go in the church. He was Eritrean Orthodox and not sure if a Catholic Church would allow him in. I welcomed him in, of course, and he said that all his churches in Eritrea had these Nativity scenes in December. “This scene makes me feel at home,” he said. I said it made me feel at home too.
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