“It’s about the love.”

MERRY CHRISTMAS, or as we say in Italy, BUON NATALE!

Yesterday I walked around our house and counted 12 nativity scenes.  Now, remember, our house is pretty big.  And we’re religious folks.  But, still, Twelve!  And this doesn’t include individual rooms and ones that I probably missed.  And half of these were on one floor alone!  I’m beginning to think that Fr. Antonio, who decorates our house, might have a problem, ha, ha.

Last year, I traveled to Greccio which is sort of between Rome and Assisi.  It is here that in 1223 St. Francis of Assisi created what many call the first nativity scene.  After receiving permission from Pope Honorius III (Francis obviously wanted to be on the nice list), he set up a manger and brought in live animals to reenact the first Christmas.  This tradition continues today with our nativity scenes – whether they are beautiful terra cotta figurines, plastic light-up statues in the front yard, made out of a shoebox and toilet paper tubes, or a childrens’ pageant featuring more angels and shepherds than you can imagine.  All these bring to mind the birth of Jesus.

The site of the first live nativity scene in Greccio, Italy.

My nephew's nativity scene from a few years ago.

But why are we fascinated with these scenes?  And why are there twelve in my house?  St. Francis created his as a way to teach the local peasants about the Christmas story.  Many couldn’t read and nearly none understood the Latin used in the liturgy of the time.  While times have changed, the crèche continues to serve as a reminder and teaching tool of that night so long ago in Bethlehem.  But, I’ve been reflecting on another reason as well this year. 

It’s about the love. 

When we look at a nativity scene, what do we see?  We could answer this in many ways, but I think we see love.  There is Mary and Joseph who, despite a rocky start to their relationship, both said “Yes” to each other and to the wild plan of God.  There are the shepherds and magi who go to Bethlehem to see this wondrous and cosmic-altering event.  We can’t forget the angels who sing the glory of God.  There are the animals – as a child I always made sure they were pointing to the crib, each jockeying for a place so they could see the baby Jesus.  And there is Love himself, wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.  As we look and ponder the crèche, we cannot help but see love – Love Incarnate.  The Gospel of John reminds us that God so loved the world that God sent the only begotton son that we might have life.  Here is Love, and Love is among us.

So, I must admit that I received a little inspiration for these thoughts today.  As many of you probably know, my friend Ali passed away from cancer in 2011.  Her husband Ben wanted to recreate some of their wedding pictures as a way to say farewell to their house…using their 3-year old daughter in the place of Ali.  You can read the whole story here.  The pictures, taken by Ali’s sister Melanie, have gone viral around the world, and even landed on The Today Show (I know famous people). You can see the interview here.

 

So what does this have to do with Christmas and crèches?  In an interview Ben simply and profoundly stated that “It’s about the love.”   And Melanie added, “Many people have asked me how I felt while doing that photo session. What I want them to know is that this isn't a story about grief and loss and hurt. Yes, I've gone through those emotions and still do but that's not what I want people to see in these photos. This is a story about love."  Yes, it’s about healing and moving on, it’s about looking back and remembering.  But, when we come down to it (and “it” is just about everything), “it’s about the love” and the hope that comes from love.  In the case of Ali’s family, it’s about the love that is still present and the love that continues to flourish.  In our nativity scenes, too, it’s about the love that is in our midst and the love that continues to blossom.  And, that’s why we turn to our Christmas crèches and why the world was captured by these photos of Ben and Olivia – to be reminded of love and to see love, the love that is so needed in a broken world.  Speaking of the photos (and maybe even a crèche), Ben commented that “the memories of Ali don’t live in that house.  They live with us, in our hearts.”  It’s not just about love that came one night many years ago or one day during a photo shoot.  But, it’s about the love that lives on and continues to makes itself known in our midst. 

So, in the end, maybe 12 crèches aren’t enough.  Maybe we need more to remind us of the infinite love that surrounds us.  Or, maybe, we need to be a more present form of love in our families and in our communities and in our world.  May we all be as fortunate as Mary and Joseph, the shepherds and magi, the angels and all the animals – to look upon Love, to see Love, and to be Love for each other.  And may we all be fortunate to be surrounded by friends and family who remind us that “It’s all about love.”  Melanie wrote on Facebook that “heaven and earth aren’t really so far apart after all.”  On this Christmas day when heaven embraced earth, perhaps truer words were never spoken.

My dear friends, may you know the joy of love this Christmas Day and beyond.

Buon Natale!  Merry Christmas!  Ciao!

Saint Ali

Today we celebrate the Solemnity of All Saints.  As we know, there are thousands of saints officially canonized in the Church…St. Francis of Assisi, St. Elizabeth Ann Seton, insert-your-favorite-saint here.  They have special days appointed to them, and here in Rome you can even sometimes see their bodies (that might be more appropriate for the eve of All Saints Day – Halloween!)  But today and its accompanying feast tomorrow (All Soul’s Day) always turn my thoughts to those “other saints,” those who have not been (and probably never will be) officially recognized by the Church.  And yet, by knowing them, they have helped me and continue to help me on my journey towards holiness by the witness of their lives and the lessons they have taught me.

In a special way this year, my attention has turned to one of these “saints,” my dear friend Ali Nunery.  I first met Ali when I was working in Cincinnati.  Near this time last year, she lost her short but heroic battle with a rare form of lung cancer.  Today’s feast seems like a perfect opportunity to reflect on her life and some of the lessons she taught me.

Ali and I on our return trip from New Orleans.  She thought it would be a good idea to get these wigs. 

My first real encounter with Ali was when I asked if she would be interested in taking a group of students to work in New Orleans in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina.  Without hesitating, she said “Yes.”  I thought this is something we would think about and decide on later.  But, I quickly learned that we were going to make the trip, there wasn’t any hesitation.  I’m also not sure if the word “No” was a part of Ali’s vocabulary.  She would often come to my classroom to propose an idea that I thought was ludicrous – a luau in the library or taking students to Disney Land or donning a Santa suit.  My initial protestations were always met with Ali standing in the doorway looking at me until I gave in (and I always gave in.)

Some students in New Orleans.  I never realized the house we were working on was pink until now.

This was so typical of Ali’s constant “Yes” to life.  It is a “yes’ to the possibilities that are offered and a “yes” to embracing whatever (good and bad) is set in your path.  While in New Orleans, she was the constant cheer leader when the students were tired after a long day of difficult and hot work.  She was a positive and encouraging voice while we had to deal with a difficult student.  (Particularly, she promised a round of beers if I was the one to call the parents at midnight!)  She was able to organize a drive-through order at McDonald’s for 20 people without batting an eye.  

In New Orleans, Ali always said "Yes" to ice cream at the end of the day.

In one of the last times I visited Ali, she was given picture of the Grotto of Our Lady of Lourdes in Dayton.  Ali commented that during her illness, Mary kept “coming up” and she had developed a deep relationship with the Mother of Jesus.  This didn’t come to a surprise to me since Mary is the woman who made that first “Yes” for the life of the world.

The Grotto at Mount Saint John in Dayton, OH

 As I got to know Ali better, she continually taught me to find joy in life, particularly in unexpected ways.  On the trip to New Orleans, we weren’t even out of the Cincinnati metro area and we were playing car-bingo.  When we finally found our winning piece (a corvette) you would have thought she had just won the lottery.  And then there were the countless dress-up days that she loved and in which she made me participate.  There was a group of teachers who all wore Santa suits the day before Christmas break.  (There was no need to ask why she had four Santa suits, it was just Ali.)  There is the famous walk-a-thon day when we promoted the Disney trip by dressing up as characters, and then sat in the dunk tank dressed in flippers and a life-vest.  When I finally went into the water, Ali couldn’t stop laughing because the black dye she had put in my hair for the Aladdin costume was running all over me.   

Need I say more?

All these things brought so much joy and happiness to her life, and she showed all those around her how to find this same joy, even when we hesitated.  Looking back now, I can only imagine that she was prophetically showing us a bit of the joy that she now experiences with all the saints. 

Finally, Ali reminded me that we are never alone and never forgotten.  She had a way of bringing people together – after-school faculty get-togethers in the library (yes, we had a luau) and Thanksgiving dinner in the cafeteria.  When I moved to San Antonio, she would send me a thematic tie each month – among them are a turkey tie, an Easter Bunny tie, and of course a Jesus tie.  When Ali and our two friends Jen and Shannon were supposed to visit me in San Antonio, they made shirts that said “I’m with Bob” and of course I had one that said “I’m Bob.”   Ali understood what community was all about.   

Thanksgiving dinner in the cafeteria.

 

It was fitting, then, that perhaps the greatest lesson I have ever learned about community came from Ali.  At the end of her funeral liturgy, I noticed that a few friends of mine had come to the mass.  It struck me as being odd because I don’t think they really knew Ali at all.  They had only heard about her through me or through other mutual friends.  When I asked one why she had come, her response was simply, “To be with you.”  At the end of the Gospels, this is the promise that Jesus leaves with his disciples, and Ali continually reminds us that it is so very true in many unexpected ways. 

The dome of the Baptistry of the Cathedral in Padua, Italy. 

We are surrounded by a great “cloud of witnesses,” and our faith reminds us (as difficult as it can be to believe some days) that for those who have gone before us “life is changed, not ended.”  In their own, unique ways, these saints continue to be present to us, just in new ways as we keep their memories alive and allow them to continue to walk with us on our own pilgrimages.  For my friend, Ali, this is so very true.  Let us, today, give thanks for the saints in our lives who continue to show us the joy of the resurrection and remind us that we are not alone.  And let us, ourselves, strive to become a great “spectacle of a people of saints.”  

Saint Ali, pray for us.

Ciao!