Christmas was not always celebrated in the Church with the same importance with which it is celebrated today. For the first thousand years of the Church’s life a far more important feast was Epiphany. Even before Constantine decided to place the celebration of the birth of Jesus on December 25th, Epiphany had already been celebrated annually. The people of that time knew what Epiphany meant: the presentation of a new emperor/a new divinity. So the Church introduced the Epiphany – the presentation – of God among us by remembering three events narrated in the Gospels: the coming of the three “Kings” to adore Jesus, the baptism of Jesus at which time God was heard to say “this is my beloved Son”, and the miracle of water changed into wine at the marriage feast in Cana when the apostles saw for the first time Christ’s divinity at work. That Christ should be revealed as divine – His Epiphany – was a mystery that needed repeating every year.

Christmas as we celebrate it today, however, owes much to St. Francis of Assisi. Until his time the emphasis of the Church was on celebrating the human (Jesus) that was divine (the Christ). Francis, however, realized that the aspect of the mystery of the Incarnation that emphasized that the divine (the Word) became also human (the babe in Bethlehem) the people did not appreciate. And so he built the first crib. He wanted the people to see and understand how God chose to come among us as one of us – to show God’s-self as a baby.

I often wonder if God called the angels together and said to them: I would like to show the people I created how much I love them; how do you suggest I do that? Some angels might have said: why not make the world a perfect place for them to live in, so that no one would ever have to be disappointed or suffer? That would make them realize that you love them. Some other angels might have said: you can show yourself to them as one of them, but as a man of power and might who, as God, can set things right for them. You can amaze them with your power and they would then see that you love them. And then some courageous angels might have said: if you really love them, become one of them, starting off by being born as a baby. I wonder if there would not immediately have been a chorus of angels who would object: you can’t do that – it would make you weak and vulnerable – you would have to be nourished by a mother and be taught how to walk and talk – you might have to live in poverty – your life could be endangered – you might not be recognized for who you are and so would not be trusted or respected – you might even be rejected. No, you cannot do that, God; it would be too risky.

Thanks to Francis, Christmas reminds us of just how much God loves us. God risked so much in coming among us. He was born in poverty. He was placed in a manger that was used for feeding the animals. It was the presence of the animals that provided the warmth that was needed. His presence was not announced to the important people in the world but to poor shepherds. They came with some of their sheep and were amazed that God would come among them in this way. No wonder they seemed to hear angels singing as they went back to look after their other sheep. This is what we see when we look at a crib. This was the scene that Francis wanted the poor people of his land to contemplate – how God loved them so much that God became one just like them.

This is truly the mystery of Christmas. We can approach the crib and look at the baby and know that God loves us. God chose to come not as someone to be feared or admired or to be in awe of, but God came as a baby to be loved. Christmas is a feast when God invites us to love God, with all the risks that might be involved, as much as God has loved us.