Christo El Morr, December 23, 2023
In the total wilderness, without a home, without anything, came a child, laying his head on a woman's chest, entrusted in her tenderness. Later, in the total wilderness, he departed in front of the grief of the same woman beneath the cross. Through the two total wildernesses, Jesus shattered the image of the god of war forever. Thus, the killer idol died, but our ability to reinstall him as a lord of darkness that we falsely call light, so that we become a deception, remained.
He came as a naked child, and cruelty responded with a bath of blood in Bethlehem. The story says that children were slaughtered by a Herod that multiplies through generations, under every sky, in every murderer who, by hatred and by the people’s silence, becomes the master of the military.
Every killed child is one with the child in the manger, who later became an adult crowned with thorns and his blood. Whoever commemorates Him today holds in their heart the children pierced by the spear of brutality so that they do not forget the only Lord, and do not take any other lord than love.
Christ proclaimed his love between the wilderness of the manger and the wilderness of the cross so that no heart remains without hope. Whenever a person stands against oppressors and pours out their heart or blood, they become a witness to Him, a martyr like Him outside the city's walls, the city that is ancient in its arrogance.
Those who recognize the divine glory in the one wrapped in swaddling clothes in the manger can see that children wrapped in white in the streets of Gaza are dignified in the heart of the divinity that wraps their innocence at all times.
They can see their shining whiteness in their mothers' tears as a divine call to stand against brutality.
They can see the dragon of hate and supremacy falling like lightning into the abyss; they can foresee it because they believe that the fragility of childhood conquers brutality.
The vision is complete when the heart changes to follow the beauty of love that turns the heart into a burning fire that illuminates the world without consuming it so that it becomes a family. And the changed heart, that is, the one that loves, wraps every success they have in the world with some asceticism, so they are able to resist and keep love in the midst of the world so that the world becomes a true church, a community of those who love.
In the manger, Christ was the face of the wounded and vulnerable God. That’s why the ones who love see Christ in the faces of the victims on the roads of death in Gaza and in every Gaza under every sky. For whoever reads the divine love poured as a child in a manger is led by love to the abandoned, the vulnerable, the deprived of bread, water, shelter, and medicine, to those robbed of the essence of life, those thrown into death yet standing with dignity, raising a defiant finger in the face of brutality, free from its terror.
This only son to his heavenly Father, wrapped in weakness in the manger and wrapped in weakness above the pains of the cross, resurrected to become the only son to humanity, a firstborn in the lineage of conquerors over death, those who become his sisters and brothers when they unite their fragility and pains to His, not bending a knee to brutality.
By those conquerors of death, the moment of transfiguration on the mountain becomes a mysterious radiance, extending throughout the universe, dwelling in every face and every body that loves and thus conquers death.
By those conquerors of death, the eternity of the everlasting kingdom is renewed in this life when the victory songs rise to knock on the doors of heaven with the hearts of those who loved, so that be joy both in heaven and on earth, fulfilling the will of the Father.
Then, finally, a human can be born; like the child in the manger, a human can rest their head peacefully on God's chest, surrendering their heart to the Source, and saying: It is done.