Dear Jesus,
Two thousand years ago, in a tiny town called Bethlehem, you graced the world with your presence. Born in the humblest of ways, with only stacked hay for a bed and a stable for a roof, the world told you, “You are here. This is home for now.”
I wonder what Mary was thinking when she gave birth to you. Was she thinking, I will love this boy with all that I am, and yet I know he will never become mine? Was she thinking, I will rear this child, feed this child, adore this child, and yet he is mine only for a moment? And yet he will be hated? And yet he will be shunned? And yet he will be taken from me?
I will never know what Mary was thinking, but this I know for sure — your birth has changed the world.
—
Dear Jesus,
The world today is full of pain. Last night I saw a friend of a friend of a friend, and she talked about how her family will never again be complete because the country’s War on Drugs took away her father, one day short of Christmas. He never took part in the drug trade, she said, but quotas had to be met. Killing was a livelihood, and one family had to be broken for another one to survive.
The world today is full of violence. In several places around the world, war continues. Children are separated from their parents, friends from friends, brothers from sisters, wives from husbands, lovers from lovers. War will not wait on the sidelines, it will complement ecstasy for ferocity, fireworks for shots fired, shrieks of laughter from cries of anguish, the reds and greens of Christmas decors for the greens turned reds of meadows from blood shed.
The world today is full of terror. And despair. And a faltering sense of light.
—
Dear Jesus,
It is beyond difficult to celebrate your birth when I know my heart is breaking. It is beyond difficult to greet people Happy Christmas, when sadness engulfs humanity. When it feels like a betrayal to celebrate when many people everywhere are finding it difficult to even will themselves to wake up.
How do we celebrate your birthday, when there are too many things that are breaking our hearts? How do we fill our lives with joy, when the strength to be happy has left us in despair?
How do we greet our friends and family, when they are no longer within our midst?
—
Dear Jesus,
Today, on your birthday, remind us of the circumstances of your birth. Remind us of the humility of your coming, the way you were the personification of rejection and helplessness even before you came into the world. Remind us of the pain of living, and of the grace that ultimately comes with it. Let us experience the pain, feel the pain, and so know when other people go through the same. Allow us to be hurt, and to know how to heal; to cry, and to know how to dry the tears of our neighbours; to be loved, and to love, and to love, and to love.
And to love some more.
Remind us to feel. To not cower from the immensity of darkness, to not waver at the thought of distress, to not stand back when the torrential waves of anger and despair make their way.
Remind us to face the pain. Remind us to stay hopeful. Remind us to stay in you. Remind us to seek you, to seek your story, to seek your truth.
And hopefully, by this time next year, we would be looking forward to your birthday again.
—
Dear Jesus,
Happy birthday.
Love always,
Me.
Of perpetual finds 