THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK: God in our midst at Christmas time in Offaly

Christmas comes again. The lights shimmer, carols rise, laughter fills homes, children run with joy, tables overflow with food, and hearts swell with gratitude. We tell ourselves and one another it’s the most wonderful time of the year. And yet, somewhere beneath the music, there is a deeper sound, the quiet cry of the world. Who is cold tonight? Who is hungry? Who is alone? Who will not come home? Who has buried a child or a loved one? Who walks barefoot while our closets overflow? Who prays for a coat while ours hang unused? Who longs for love, companionship, or hope while we celebrate in warmth and abundance? Who sits in shock, staring at a life that has been violently altered forever? Christmas does not arrive in a peaceful world. It never has.

The first Christmas came under occupation, fear, displacement, and threat. A child was born while a ruler planned murder. A family fled in the night. Innocents died. Mothers wept. And still God came anyway. “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it” (John 1:5). Christmas is more than decorations, gifts, and parties. It is the reminder that God is here, Emmanuel, God-with-us, inviting us to open our hearts, to see Him in every face, every need, every quiet cry. The Christ child, born in humility, calls us to live generously, to move beyond fear, apathy, hatred and self-centeredness into radical love and mercy.

A Christmas wish: Light in the darkness

It’s the most wonderful time of the year, if we have faith and believe in it. Many see Christmas as a season of gifts and family, yet it is far more profound. Each year, especially in moments of uncertainty, hopelessness, or even despair, Christmas comes to draw us out of darkness into the light of giving, kindness, and goodness. For those away from home, the lonely, or those suffering ill health, the season may feel like a mirror of absence. And yet, Christmas is not merely a day of exchanging gifts; it is an opportunity to become better versions of ourselves. The spirit of Christmas is togetherness, thoughtfulness, selflessness, forgiveness, and gratitude. It urges us to act with love, not obligation such as helping someone with shopping, visiting the lonely, sick or elderly, cooking a meal, or simply spending time with someone in need. Even a handwritten letter or card, heartfelt and personal, carries the spirit of Christ.

A world that is grieving

From Ireland, we watched Australia grieve recently and we recognise the grief. Distance offers no protection. Shock still lands in the body. Sorrow still tightens the throat. Fifteen people murdered for the crime of celebrating Hanukkah. Children and families killed and maimed in so many wars and conflicts across our world during the year. Also recently a four-year-old boy from our midlands abode, Tadhg Farrell, burned to death in his own home. His grand-aunt killed. His grandmother is fighting for life. These are not statistics. They are names. Faces. Ordinary, irreplaceable, deeply loved, innocent human beings.

Faith does not rush to explain what cannot be explained. Faith stands still before suffering and says quietly, God is here, even now. “The Lord is close to the broken hearted” (Psalm 34:18). Christmas insists on this truth, God does not hover safely above the pain of the world. God enters it. God lies down in it. God weeps within it.

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The uncomfortable question

What is most confronting is not only the violence itself, but how familiar it feels. We live in a world where wars and conflicts continue daily, where ideologies harden, where systems built on power, fear, and domination function exactly as designed. They do not prioritise life. They absorb tragedy, issue statements of sorrow, and move on. We mourn quickly. We adjust. We return to business as usual. This is not resilience. It is moral exhaustion. Christmas disrupts that numbness. It refuses to let us normalise the unbearable. When a child dies violently, something in all of us knows that the fabric of the world has torn and that lament alone is not enough.

The child in the manger and the child who dies

The child in the manger is not protected from the world’s violence. He grows into it. He absorbs it. He is eventually executed by it. That is why Christmas matters. God’s sign is not dominance. God’s sign is vulnerability. “He emptied himself… taking the form of a slave” (Philippians 2:7). God makes Himself small. Touchable. Breakable. Dependent. God asks for our love and then asks us to become like Him. If God chooses vulnerability over power, then violence can never be holy. If God chooses love over force, then peace must be lived, not merely wished for.

Christ in the ordinary, Christ in the wounded

The Gospel does not call us to heroics. It calls us to attention. “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none". (Luke 3:11) “As you did it to one of the least of these, you did it to me” (Matthew 25:40). Christ comes to us disguised as hunger, loneliness, grief, fear, addiction, displacement, abandonment, homeless, sick, despair. He comes in supermarket queues. In burning homes. In hospital corridors. In refugee camps. In broken communities pleading to be protected before tragedy strikes.

Prayer without action is incomplete. Action without prayer is hollow. Christmas demands both. Jesus reminds us, "For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me… Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these, you did it to me" (Matthew 25:35–36, 40). Bread becomes Christ’s body when given to the hungry. A coat becomes Christ’s embrace when wrapped around the naked. Shoes carry dignity. Money shared is justice, not charity. Every gift withheld is a lost chance to make heaven visible on earth. Ordinary acts, faithfully repeated, embody God’s love.

The hard truth we must dace

St. Basil does not soften his words, "The bread you do not use is the bread of the hungry. The garment hanging in your wardrobe is the garment of the one who is naked. The shoes you do not wear are the shoes of the barefoot. The money you hide away is the money of the poor. “ And we must add, painfully but truthfully: The systems we tolerate, the warnings we ignore, the violence we excuse, these, too, cost lives. Communities like Edenderry and Bondi Beach warned. They asked for protection. They pleaded. And now a child is dead along with 15 more souls. Lament must lead to responsibility. Grief must disturb us into change. Every loaf kept, every coat hoarded, every unused pair of shoes, every euro tucked away, every moment of inaction is a lost chance to serve Christ. Christmas is meant to break our hearts and move us to action, to give not out of obligation but because love compels us.

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Because He came

Because He came, God is not absent from grief. Love is stronger than death. Violence does not get the final word. We are shown how to live and how to die with compassion. Because He came, we are accountable, not to despair, but to hope made real. Because He came to earth, we have a perfect example to follow. His life teaches kindness, love, respect, and concern for others. Because He came, Life has meaning. We can reach out to those in distress. Death has lost its sting. Eternal life is possible. Hope, forgiveness, courage, and joy are ours to embrace. Christ’s birth invites us to gratitude, forgiveness, hope, courage, repentance and compassion. It is a call to center our lives on Him, to embody His love every day.

Be the Christmas Spirit — in a wounded world

Be the Christmas Spirit that enters places of pain. That refuses hatred. That insists every life matters. That challenges systems built on fear. That protects the vulnerable before tragedy strikes. That chooses love when fear feels easier. This is not sentimental. It is fierce. Demanding. Courageous. Be the Christmas Spirit that enters homes of poverty and brings wonder. Soften hardened hearts with generosity. Restore joy and laughter to the aged. Brighten dreams and lives with small acts of love. Bring hope to the weary, homeless, imprisoned, or forgotten. Be the Christmas Spirit not just at Christmas, but all year long. Let every act of love echo Christ’s presence.

The real meaning of Christmas: The Spirit of Christ

To catch the real meaning of the spirit of Christmas, we need only drop the last syllable, it becomes the Spirit of Christ. Amid the sounds, smells, decorations, and traditions, it is easy to be distracted. But Christmas is peace with God, peace with others, and peace in our own hearts. It is the celebration of God’s relentless love, a reminder that He is present in our lives today, calling us to faith, charity, and hope. The humble birth of Jesus, God made small, God in a manger, reveals the path to true greatness which is showing humility, love, and selfless service. Only if people change will the world change. Only if hearts are moved by God’s light can we bring hope to darkness.

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Thought for the week

As your thought for the week let this Christmas, allow grief to unsettle you, not into despair, but into wisdom. Ask yourself honestly: Where am I being called to act, not just feel? Whose dignity depends, in some small way, on my courage? What would it look like to live Christmas, not just celebrate it? Choose one concrete act of love this week. One act of generosity. One act of attention. One refusal to accept what should never be normal. Reflect on how your actions bring Christ alive to those you serve and how they change you from within. Ask: Who is waiting for the gifts I am keeping? Who is God calling me to see, serve, and bless? Have a Happy and Holy Christmas. Christmas is God’s sign of affection for the world, this world, as it is. No matter your circumstances, never doubt this: God has not walked away. God has come closer. May we recognise Him in the manger, in the grieving, in the hungry, in the wounded, and in one another.

And may this Christmas not leave us unchanged. Let me leave you with one of my Christmas Prayers, "God of mercy, born into a wounded world, hold close all who grieve, those who have buried children, those shattered by violence, hate, war and conflicts, those whose homes are no longer safe. Break our hearts open, not hard. Disturb our comfort. Strengthen our courage. Teach us gratitude, forgiveness, hope, and fierce love. May we welcome You not into tidy celebrations, but into the real, trembling, compassionate hearts where You choose to dwell. This Christmas, make us instruments of Your peace not tomorrow, not someday, but now. Amen".