The God who is born into the world at Christmas is constantly coming in our midst. But the One who is Life and Love and Light cannot be seen by those whose lives are cluttered with stuff, distracted by a cacophony of clatter and chatter.

The crib is hard to find. As the Gospels that tell of what we celebrate at Christmas make clear, the God who takes flesh in our world cannot be readily found among the rich and attractive, the strong and the robust, the important and the busy, the talented and the productive --- all of whom move through life at break-neck speed. Our inability to see may be due more to our busyness rather than our badness. When we speed through life from one thing to the next --- often doing very good things --- we are not still long enough see --- to behold --- the light of that guiding star which leads us to the place of the Christ-child.

Standing still long enough, we just might catch a glimpse of a basic truth about Christmas: Jesus is hidden from the rich and the clever; he is seen by the poor and weak and wounded.

The various images and symbols of the Evangelists' Christmas accounts convey an important insight: Those who have their fill of earthly riches and power do not seem to have room enough, or need, for the Light that comes into the world at the edges, in the margins, between the cracks --- the Light that shines from a hidden stable where the poor and those on the margins might approach and see!

In our increasingly secularized milieu, many voices urge us to "Put Christ Back into Christmas." I wonder if we realize the consequences of this. Because doing so entails so much more than allowing our religious symbols of Christmas to be displayed in public, or saying "Merry Christmas!" without embarrassment instead of resorting to the rather bland "Hope ya have a nice holiday." It means that we find rather than put Christ where he is to be found at Christmas, and throughout the year.

Where do we see Christ as Christmas? In fragile flesh. In the Scriptures, the presence and power of God in the world is described as exousia, a word with no direct English equivalent. It has many meanings, but at root it signifies transparency, vulnerability, defenselessness.

God does not enter the world at Christmas like a Hollywood hero who rescues the innocent and the righteous by force. At Christmas, God does not come into the world as a grownup, but as a helpless infant who needs care and nurture. The God born into the world at Christmas is not the God of raw power, but the One whose strength is seen in the smile of a vulnerable child.

In this Year of the Eucharist, it is helpful to reflect on the connection between the Mystery of the Incarnation of God's love at Christmas and the Eucharistic Mystery we celebrate week by week, or day by day. In the Incarnation, God comes in earthly flesh; in the Eucharist, God comes in the very earthy elements of bread and wine. For all its grandeur and majesty, it is helpful to remember that the whole sacramental life of the Church rests on four very earthy elements: bread, wine, water and oil. For all the grandeur and majesty of our Christmas celebrations, when choruses of Alleluia are sung to the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, what we celebrate is God's life, love and light in the world in earthen, fragile flesh.

In the Eucharist, the Incarnation continues in our own time and place. The light, life and love of God who has come to the world in fragile flesh continues to come among us in the simple earthen realities of bread and wine. There, much like in the crib, God is hidden, seen only by those who look in faith, hope and love for the pouring out of God's gift in the Eucharist. Receiving this gift helps us to be a Holy People who pour forth the life, light and love of God in a world so broken, in a Church increasingly divided.

The true light, which enlightens everyone, comes into the world (John 1: 9). In his Apostolic Letter for the Year of the Eucharist, Mane Nobiscum Domine [Remain with Us, Lord], Pope John Paul II calls us to remember that the Eucharist is a Mystery of Light (MND 11-13). The Holy Father reminds us that the Eucharist is celebrated not at one table, but two: The Table of the Word and the Table of the Sacrament. We can see the glory of the Lord at the Eucharistic Table because our eyes and our ears are opened by the proclamation of the Good News in the Liturgy of the Word. And the News is this: God explains who God is as Love. Love radiates from God and instills the light of love in our hearts.

When we celebrate the Eucharist in a way that allows the light of love in our hearts to radiate well beyond our own kin and concerns, then the Eucharist truly becomes an "epiphany of communion" which strengthens us to live our call to "reciprocal openness, affection, understanding and forgiveness" (MND 21). And in doing so, the Incarnation continues, not only in the Eucharistic celebration, but also in the lives of those who make the love of God seen, touched, and heard in the Church and the world.

What is offered in the Incarnation of Love at Christmas is an offer day by day, week by week, in the Eucharistic Mystery. The God who is recognized at the Table of the Word and the Table of the Sacrament is this day to be seen in a crib. The hope of the whole world is seen in the smile of a little one who holds out a promise: Our hearts will be transformed and the earth will be renewed only in and through love.