This time of year, for all its beauty, can be quite frenzied, but  
sometimes when we come up to Christmas, we think “Gosh, I wonder how  
I missed the whole meaning of the season.” So what I like to do on  
Christmas, I like to take one phrase at least from the readings and  
try and bring it with me into the days that follow, because, don’t  
forget, the days that follow are really the Christmas season. And the  
phrase that jumped out at me this week was from that second reading  
to Titus. “The kindness and generous love of God, our Lord,  
appeared.” ... “The kindness and generous love of God, our Lord,  
appeared.”  That, I think, is what it’s about, the generosity of God.  
Let’s say more, the reckless generosity of God. You’ll see where I  
got that phrase in a moment.

When you read the saints and mystics, and they talk about Christmas,  
they tell us “Yes, of course, we look at the Christ child in the  
manger, and the crib, and the creche, but let our thoughts journey  
forward, way forward, even to the cross, because what is happening  
here is the extraordinary generous risk that God is taking. He could  
send his only son into the world, and who knows? Maybe we would  
accept him. Maybe we would reject him. Maybe he would only have a few  
followers. Maybe the majority would desert him. Maybe they would even  
put him to death.” An extraordinary risk, the generous risk that God  
was taking. Just listen to this sample from Saint Ignatius of Loyola,  
the founder of the Jesuits. He says, “We must have joy at our Lord’s  
birth, but observe and consider Mary and Joseph, the journey and  
suffering which they undergo in order that our Lord might be born in  
extreme poverty, and after so many labors, after hunger and thirst,  
heat and cold, insults and injuries, he might die on the cross, and  
all this out of generous love for you and me.” The kindness and  
generous love of God our Lord appeared.

Let me quote to you from quite a different kind of writer. This  
writer is called Frank O’ Connor. He’s Ireland’s best known short  
story writer, but in his autobiography, the story of his life, he  
tells about when he was a young boy. He grew up in a poor family, he  
didn’t have much, and every year he used to write to Santa Claus. He  
wanted one particular toy engine that he craved, that he had set his  
heart upon, and year after year, Santa let him down, but finally when  
he was eight years old, Santa came through with the precious, long-
awaited toy engine. Everywhere he went, Frank O’ Connor brought the  
little engine with him. So he went with his mother to visit the crib,  
the creche, the manger scene, in the local church, and he writes,  
“When I saw the holy child in the manger, I was distressed because,  
little as I had, he had nothing at all. For me, it was fresh proof of  
the incompetence of Santa Claus. I distinctly remember getting into  
the crib and putting the engine between his outstretched arms. I  
probably showed him how to wind it as well, because a small baby like  
that would not be clever enough to know. I remember, too, the  
cheerful feeling of reckless generosity, with which I left him there  
in the nightly darkness of the chapel, clutching my toy engine to his  
chest.” A young child giving a gift to the Christ child, knowing what  
the mystery was all about. Reckless generosity of God, calling forth  
reckless generosity in that child.

When did you last do an act of reckless generosity? When did I last  
do an act of reckless generosity? Let me tell you briefly about my  
mother. My mother died 23 years ago, late on the night of Christmas  
Eve. When we were kids growing up in our little village, she was  
always sending us bringing things to people who were a little less  
well off than ourselves, and when my mother died, there came a  
torrent of pleas from missionary orders and charities, and we  
suddenly realized that she was giving to so many causes, and never  
really telling us about them. I remember there was one priest in  
Brazil who was running a home for homeless kids. I think she was one  
of his biggest benefactors, but she never bragged about it. She did  
good by stealth. For a woman who was not rich, she taught me the  
meaning of reckless generosity.

So that’s what we celebrate. Let’s keep that little phrase in mind  
during the days ahead. “The kindness and generous love of God our  
Lord appeared,” and let me finish with the prayer for generosity.  
Again, it’s a prayer of Saint Ignatius of Loyola.

Lord, teach me to be generous.
Teach me to serve you as you deserve,
To give and not to count the cost,
To fight and not to heed the wounds,
To toil and not to seek for rest,
To labor and not to seek reward,
Save that of knowing that I do your holy will.
Amen.

 

rpb