This Christmas Eve, our neighborhood was a beehive of activity the likes of which I hadn't seen since before the pandemic.
Early in the afternoon our neighbors turned on the karaoke and started belting out, the noise carrying over to my room where I try to concentrate on finishing up some articles for OpinYon. Mind you, the week between Christmas and New Year's is always the hardest for us, as there seemed to be no news happening at all. Nothing earth-shattering, that is; it's as if all the problems that still hound the nation have been shoved to the side for the time being as we all try to celebrate and be glad.
Toward the evening there were non-stop parties that carried over until well past midnight. Children roamed the streets, trying to put some holiday cheer as they sang carols. (Come to think of it, have you noticed that caroling is one of those holiday traditions that's slowly dying out – and not just because our youth's too busy being glued to their devices. I think people are now finding them either just another financial burden or just plain nuisance that they could gladly live without.)
Now contrast the noise, the revelry, the parties, the celebrations, with what happened on the very first Christmas.
Let’s go back to what the Gospel according to Luke said about how Jesus Christ was born: “And she [Mary] brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.”
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In our rush to celebrate Jesus’ birth in revelry, riches and lavishness, we tend to forget the very humble beginnings of his birth.
It’s not enough that he, God the Son, came to the world as a human: he came to us in the most sorry of circumstances.
Imagine Mary, tired after a long, long journey to have herself and Joseph registered before the authorities, finding out there’s no more room for them at the inn – and then, to make matters worse, it was time for her to give birth.
No room at the inn meant she had to give birth in a stable, a place for animals, the last place you’d imagine someone to give birth to.
Which is exactly what the message of Christmas is!
God humbling himself, not just by transforming himself into one of us, but living in the most wretched of circumstances in order to remind us to prioritize those who are needier than us. This, by the way, is also what the grown-up Jesus Christ reminded not only his followers but all who hear his message: “Whatever you do to the least of your brethren, you do it unto Me.”
The noise, the cheering, the celebration, can tend to mute or even erase the very message that silent night in Bethlehem wants to teach us all: that it is in humility, in emptying ourselves, that we become closer not only to God but also to the people around us.
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I would like to end this column and 2025 by sending out once again a word of gratitude to all of OpinYon’s friends, supporters and sponsors who continued to believe in us throughout the years.
There’s a few people we had forgotten in the list we printed out last week, one of them Laguna 1st District Board Member Bernadeth Olivares, who had been one of our staunchest supporters in the past years. When you’ve got so many people who have helped you out, I guess we can forget one or more of them.
Here’s wishing a blessed 2026 for all of us!
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