“And this will be a sign for you: you will find an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.”
You must have some ribbons from gifts you have received. You may wish to take one and wrap it around your hand. Bind the thing around your fingers to get a feel of how it is to be swaddled by strips of fabric.
An infant in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger is the sign given to us of our Savior who is born for us, who is “Christ and Lord.”
It is a strange sign of the One who is supposed to save us. He will be swaddled or bound again at his death. The strips of linen that are left in the empty tomb will be our sign of hope and redemption.
Swaddled is also what we are. Bound is who we are, bound by strips of worries and concerns these days. We have been praying for this pandemic to end, and for the violence in Ukraine and in other parts of the world to cease. Time and again, we seem to have tangled ourselves in knots, unable to untie our lives from miseries we alone have brought upon ourselves. We swing from one crisis to the next. The cry of the poor and of the earth are stifled. To be swaddled or bound this way is hardly a sign of hope or redemption.
And yet we are told by the angel to turn to the child swaddled in cloth, swaddled against the cold, lying in a manger. There is warmth to be felt beneath the layers. There is warmth for us who have been walking in the cold, walking in darkness, wrapped in guilt or shame or sorrow. Turning to the One all swaddled in warmth, we find deliverance in the child’s being bound to us for good. We find solace in knowing that God is not cold but warm to the touch, and his love is enough cover from the cold outside.
When we turn to the child in a manger, we also discover our own warmth again. We too are warm inside, beneath all the layers. For all the fallen choices we have made, for all the coldness we are capable of, there is still goodness to be found in our heart. There is light for us who have been dwelling “in the land of gloom,” bound by fear or anxiety or despair. Turning to the child all swaddled in warmth, we find freedom when we offer the warmth of us to those in need. We find joy in knowing that God continues to warm to us, choosing to see the goodness of our heart.
To the shepherds in the fields, the swaddled infant in a manger must have been a strange sight. In one tradition1, the practice is to prepare the first newborn lamb for Passover sacrifice by swaddling it and placing it in a feeding trough, a manger.
When we turn to the child swaddled in cloth, lying in a manger, we realize that the Christmas story is at once a joyful and glorious and sorrowful mystery. The belen has the likeness of an offertory.
The swaddling is for warmth as it is for sacrifice. The warmth is in the sacrifice that is offered in love. It is this sacrifice of love that gives warmth to our lives.
As the child is swaddled for sacrifice, so too are we asked to prepare for a life of sacrifice. Sacrum facere. We are called to make things holy, to offer ourselves in holiness and love. The wood of the manger is the wood of the cross. As we are meant to make a loving oblation of our lives, so are we to anoint each other and our world with the love of God.
The next time you wrap or open your gift, take a moment to hold the ribbons in your hand. Remember the child swaddled in ribbons of linen, lying in a manger. Whisper a simple prayer. Remember to return your life to God who has given everything to keep you warm and set you free.
Fr. Jose Ramon T Villarin, SJ
Homily delivered on Christmas Eve Mass
Cenacle Retreat House
24 Dec 2022
1https://catholicism.org/what-are-swaddling-clothes-and-what-is-their-significance.html