A Christmas Story

By Father Joe Maier, C.Ss.R., published Dec. 24, 07, Bangkok Post

It's Christmas and I'm almost positive I saw the Blessed Virgin Mary crying, running through the slum, carrying Jesus with tears running down her face. She slipped and fell down, tore her long dress, taking the full fall and cradling Jesus so he wouldn't be hurt. She quickly picked herself up, grabbed her son, held him so hard he started to cry too, then ran again.
 
There'd been a commotion and Mary had heard the word ''soldiers''. And that was enough. All she could think of was that Herod's soldiers were coming all over again. Coming again to kill her son. Hurrying through the village, somewhere on the border between Egypt and Judea, she picked up speed, pulling, almost dragging along her almost-three-year-old son Jesus, running away from the crowd into narrow pathways.

A few months before, they'd found a modest house. Living there, waiting… waiting really for another dream from another Angel. But of that in a moment.

She ran into Joseph, her husband, rushing out of a house. He said,''Let's go back, melt into the crowd. It's safer there. They won't recognise us and I don't think they are looking for us. They won't hurt us here. We're safe now.'' Mary had skinned her knee, which was bleeding slightly, and Jesus, who had now stopped crying, blew on the cut and kissed it to make the pain go away, as his mother had often done to him. Jesus was getting too heavy for Mary to carry, so Joseph picked him up and they slipped back into the crowd.

They heard voices. Voices of men? Yes. Soldiers? Yes. But Mary hadn't known it was only a drill in the parade grounds. How could she? Soldiers practising: A routine, but uncommon enough to always draw a crowd. And they were Roman soldiers, not Herod's. She had to remind herself that they were no longer in Bethlehem , just a few kilometres from Jerusalem . They were now on the Judean-Egyptian border, and safe.

Months earlier, though it seemed like last night, they had run away in the middle of the night, running out of Bethlehem , minutes ahead of Herod's soldiers, who had orders to kill her son, that is, to kill all one- or two-year-old boys in the area.
 
Joseph had heard an Angel's voice in a life-saving dream, a nightmare really. ''Run away now, and take the child and his mother to Egypt . Run for your lives. Stay there 'till you are told to return. You will know.'' And ran they did: Walking by night, hiding by day. A long journey on foot, some 50km over the Judean hills and then across the desert to the border of Egypt .

They had just escaped from Bethlehem - beautiful Bethlehem - the village where Jesus was born. The shepherds and their families - in those days, society's poorest and least respected people _ were watching their flocks by night when they heard the singing of angels,saw a bright star and came to pay homage to the newborn Christ. And on that special night - Christmas - as they came across the Judean hills, the night sky lit by a special star, angels in heaven appeared. Singing. Praising the new-born child. A child who had been born to bring love to the whole world.

And later, much later, perhaps two years, so our traditions say, the Magi followed that special star that rose in the East, arriving in royal caravan with mystical gifts: Gold for a royal person. Frankincense for a holy, consecrated person. And myrrh to prepare a body. A funeral.

Mary and Joseph, with their infant son Jesus, had moved from the stable where Mary had given birth. They'd found a modest house in Bethlehem, living there something like two years, as our traditions and old documents tell us, until the Magi came and found them. These are ancient stories in ancient languages believed by ancient peoples and by millions of us today.

And now, Mary and Joseph and their child silently slipped back into the anonymity of a crowd to hide from the soldiers once again, this time along the border of Egypt . They'd gone there because that's what the angel said to do in the dream.

As they quietly joined the crowd, they looked around and laughed and cried for joy and relief: Just a soldiers' drill. A parade. No, not searching for them. Not searching for their child Jesus to come and kill him.

There would be soldiers again, years ahead, after Joseph had died, and Mary would stand on a faraway hill at the foot of a cross - but that's another story.

Mary watched her son Jesus playing with the other children, wondering what would become of them: She, Joseph and their child Jesus.

Angels and a star rising from the East … the Magi and mystical gifts… soldiers. Also, remembering back, it was 40 days after Jesus' birth when, according to religious custom, they had traveled from Bethlehem to Jerusalem and had presented Jesus in the temple; and there on the temple grounds, an old woman who had lived seemingly forever, known for her holiness, uttered strange prophesies about Mary and her child. Plus there was an old holy man, his face all aglow, coming up out of nowhere really, asking if he could hold her infant son, touch him, just for a moment and then saying now his life was complete. Now, he could pass on: He had held the son of God in his arms. He had seen the face of God.

And these happenings were a long time ago in Bethlehem and Jerusalem and along the border between Judea and Egypt , but here today in Bangkok, I hope it's not too brazen so say to all of us at Christmas: We too must look to see the very face of God in every child we meet.

And for me, maybe … there are the faces of six-year-old Miss Peh and her best friend Miss Fon, who is seven, living at our Mercy Centre, both of them children with no place to go. Miss Peh, her eyes don't work too good. They tell me she was okay when she was born, but The virus got her bad … from her innocent mum, you know, who got it from her dad who came home at dawn one Tequila morning. The virus attacked her optic nerve plus goofed up lot of other things in her nervous system, so her walking ain't the best and her talking - well, she's still working on that, too.

But talk she does - lots - to her best friend Miss Fon, who can walk and talk normal-like, but her vision is going blurry. A few days ago, she walked right smack dab into a wall: Almost knocked herself out. A big bump on her forehead. And she cried and cried, asking over and over to everyone there: ''Why didn't you tell me?'' So Miss Peh came over and held her and blew on her forehead and kissed it to make the hurt go away. Then they started to laugh and giggle and whisper secrets again, like little girls do.

And the other morning, just before dawn, the girls were singing together - no, not like the music you hear in songs with words, but singing just the same. And all I could think of was the angels singing in high heaven with a message to the shepherds and to all of us to journey across the Judean Hills to see the newborn child. And then to look up and see that special star. And we all have to do that, don't we? To listen, especially at Christmas time, so that we can hear the singing of the angels in high heaven, no matter how faint or how loud or how far away, and to look up and see that special star rising from the East.

That's why Christmas happened: So we can look with compassion and love into the faces of Miss Peh and Miss Fon and your children and all children and see the very face of God.

I got deeply touched by the innocence of the characters in Fr. Joe's story.  He's our beloved parish priest here in AIT who never gets tired of serving us. 

Any support you'd like to extend in this time of merriment and gift giving kindly  send them to Father Joe Maier -chairman and co-founder of the Human Development Foundation in Klong Toey,Bangkok. For more information,call +66-2-671-5313 or visit www.mercycentre.org.