Merry Christmas!
What a delightful pleasure to extend a joyful welcome to all of you as we gather to prayerfully celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, our Personal Savior.
Hopefully, you are not too tired from Christmas preparations, skiing, snowboarding or anything else you have done to prepare for this day. If you are exhausted, no problem! Just turn your tiredness over to the Lord and know that your presence at Mass today is the perfect birthday present to the Lord.
Strange, isn't it? Jesus has a birthday, but we get the gifts. The gift we receive on Jesus's birthday is his peace, hope, joy and love.
The story is told of a little girl who, when she learned to read, was able to distribute the gifts under the Christmas tree. After all the gifts were given out, Sally looked around for more gifts but couldn't find any. Her father asked, “What are you looking for?”
Sally replied, “I thought Christmas was Jesus’s birthday, so I was looking for a present for Jesus. I guess we forgot about Him.”
Jesus doesn't want us to forget Him, so Jesus not only told me to thank you for the gift of your presence here at Mass he also wanted me to remind you that we are open every day, just in case you want to make a visit between now and next Christmas.
And another thing God asked me to tell you is that Santa Claus isn't the only one who is making a list and checking it twice. God is the One who knows who is naughty or nice.
I remember the cartoon I saw one year in the newspaper. There is a little boy visiting with Santa, and the caption reads, “If you heard that I was naughty, I want you to know it is fake news.”
Many, many Christmases ago, when I was just a little boy, my older sister dropped the bomb. She said, “Billy, you do know there is no Santa Claus.”
I remember running into the living room where our dad was reading the sports page and telling him what my sister had said. “No Santa Claus?” Dad snapped. “Well, that rumor has been going on for years and it's time you found out for yourself that there is a Santa Claus. Go put on your overshoes, hat, jacket, and mittens and let's go.”
“Go? Go where, Dad?” I asked.
“I'll get your momma,” Dad said. “And you get your brother and sister. We are all going downtown to the Golden Rule Department Store.” Yes, that was the name of the best department store in St. Paul when I was a kid.
When we arrived, Dad handed me $20. That was a bundle of money in those days. Mom looked me square in the eye as if to give me confidence and said, “Take this money and buy something useful for someone that you know who really needs whatever you buy. Remember, Billy, you have to buy something for someone who really needs your gift. We'll wait for you in the car.”
They turned and pretended to walk back to our brand new 1946 black Ford, but I knew they were close by, watching my every move.
I was only 7 years old. I had never shopped for anything by myself, ever. And the store was so crowded. Dumbfounded, I remember just standing there for a while, almost ready to cry. I wondered what I would buy and for whom.
Suddenly, I thought of my best friend in school, Al Gosiak. He sat right behind me in our second-grade class, taught by Sister Benedict. He never had a really warm winter jacket, and it was obvious that the one he did have was a worn-out hand-me-down. I decided that I would buy him a brown warm-up jacket, just like mine.
I picked out one, and I remember excitedly explaining to the tired-looking salesclerk to whom I was giving the coat.
That evening, the entire family gathered around the kitchen table. Dad said a prayer for Al's family while my sister wrapped the jacket in Christmas paper and my brother wrote the Christmas tag, “To Al, from Santa.” Dad explained to me that Santa always insisted on privacy and that is why we had to help Santa Claus wrap and deliver gifts.
Then we all got into the car that chilly winter night in Minnesota and drove to Al’s house. Mom started singing Christmas carols, and we all joined in. First was Silent Night, then Oh Come All Ye Faithful, and we kept singing Christmas carols till we made it all the way to the other side of town. Al's neighborhood wasn't decorated like ours. No one had outside Christmas lights or decorated Christmas trees in their front windows. My sister noticed how small the houses were compared to ours. My brother wanted to know why the houses had bars on the windows.
Dad parked the car down the street from Al’s house. It was cold and dark. My brother said, “All right, Santa Claus, get going.” I was scared and didn't want to leave the warmth and security of the car. But I took a deep breath and dashed to Al's front door, dropped the package, knocked on the door, and ran back to the car as fast as I could.
We all watched as the door slowly opened. Al’s mom and dad saw the package from Santa and took it inside. That is when Dad said to me, “You are officially one of Santa's secret helpers.”
As a little boy, I got excited about Christmas because of Santa. I loved the anticipation, the traditions and being with family and of course, the presents. Now, as an “old” man, I still get excited about Christmas but for a much different reason. In faith, I believe that God became a person because of His love for each and every one of us.
Christmas is a wonderful time to reflect on why God came to be like us and why we rejoice in hope, peace, joy and the love of the Holy Spirit. Let's have a Merry Christmas because we recognize we are brothers and sisters in Christ.
We can smile at what children believe in, yet it is only in growing up that we really appreciate who Santa is. The true spirit of Santa is where there is deep unselfish love. This is the meaning and the spirit of Christmas itself: unselfish, unconditional love.
It was Christmas Eve, and the church was filled for the Children's Mass. The children from the Religious Education classes were ready to present the traditional Christmas pageant. They had been practicing their parts for weeks. One of the children, Timmy, a child with autism, was asked to be one of the innkeepers. He practiced and practiced his one line, “There is no room at the inn,” over and over with his parents and the pageant director.
When Mary and Joseph came down the aisle, stopped in front of Timmy and asked for a room, Timmy loudly declared his line, “There is no room at the inn.” Mary and Joseph sadly turned away and proceeded further down the aisle, but Timmy shouted out after them, “But wait, you can come and stay at my house.”
Remember to have room in your heart
and at your house for Jesus this Christmas season.
Have a Blessed Christmas!
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