Father Tim Lemlin
I must have been in the third grade. It was the day before Christmas and my uncle John had taken my sister and me to see the movie, Journey to the Center of the Earth. We had enjoyed the afternoon. That night I began dreaming that the red-hot lava that I had seen in the movie was flowing over my face. Waking with a start, I witnessed my sister standing over me with a lit candle. I could see that the wax from the candle was dripping as she shook me awake. The burns were quickly forgotten when I also realized that she had done the impossible - she had managed to stay awake long enough to let my parents leave for Midnight Mass. The gifts beneath the tree were accessible!
We had only one obstacle - darkness. Our older brother had been left to guard the gifts from being touched and any light would announce the invasion and bring him running. Using the stealth skills inherent in children we made our way to the tree. All was going well as we groped the shapes that lay at our feet. Then disaster … I touched the wrong toy and it noisily came to life.
I was momentarily stunned until my wiser and more cunning sister pulled me into action. The noise had stirred to life the guarding ogre and there was no time to waste. We had to get back to bed and be asleep before he could navigate the fourteen stairs. My sister, being older, did a much better impression of being asleep, but I also refused to be wakened
Our quest to investigate the treasures that lay under the tree, however, was squelched. After admonishing the sound sleepers the guardian perched himself on the living room couch. Blissful discovery would have to wait for the light of dawn.
I suspect that most of us have stories about Christmas - some joyful, some sad. Left to themselves, they are amusing or moving, but when they become part of the fabric of the larger story of Christmas they are transformed.
This also happens with each of us. We are part of a much bigger story than our individual lives. We are part of a family, a people, a nation, a world, and a universe. Our stories don't stop here. We are part of the story of God who becomes flesh.
When we first experience this reality of God, we can't wait to taste more. We seem to awaken from a stupor and instantly know that our treasure is not far away. The darkness doesn't dampen our determination to touch and rejoice in the gifts that lay within our reach. Silence and stealth are necessary, we realize, because the guardian of the gifts is not far away. Slowly, patiently we approach our treasures, feeling in the darkness the shapes of things that we know are wonderful. "We have done it," we think to ourselves. We have found a way to get to God on our own, in the darkness, without alerting the guardian. Then our perfect coup is dismantled by the flaw that is part of each of our lives and we hurriedly scurry back to our slumbering state.
The big story tells us that our little stories don't end here. It tells us that the gifts continue to be within our reach - they will never disappear. We simply can't attain them by ourselves. The grace of God, the morning star, will illumine them for us if we await the dawn.
