Christmas is walking in the night but wrapped in light, a light that does not come from the sanctity of perfection but from the profound humanity of the shepherds. They are outside the realm of power, they live outside the lights of Jerusalem, they are nocturnal beings, often haunted by mistakes or due to feelings of guilt, but all it takes is for one night, from above, when someone looks at them with a radiant gaze and they start walking in the night “wrapped in Light.” They move, one step after another, clumsy, rough, and beautiful because they are real. They stink of life, their teeth are worn, their eyes tired, their feet hardened by the stones of life, but they walk and this is enough.
Christmas is that they arrive and see a sign. You will find a child wrapped in swaddling clothes, it is a sign of life which, if cared for, swaddled, wrapped in tenderness, endures. He is in a manger, that is, exactly where these shepherds bring the animals to eat. Christmas is discovering that life is born here and now. It is where I’m trying to live, where I’m trying to get through the night, where I’m trying to feed my survival.
Christmas is life that chooses me. And this gives me peace. A profound peace. I’m not wrong, Lord, I’m not a sinner, I’m not unworthy, I’m not dirty, I’m not incapable, or maybe I am, but it doesn’t matter, because it doesn’t matter to you. Christmas is that I want to be your manger.
