Samuel Wells writes:
"Christmas is about suffering people. The children of Israel are living in occupied territory. Rome is an empire, which has no interest in its subject peoples other than extracting from them money and raw materials. At every place in the Christmas story we see the reality of oppression.
The story starts with a census. Why a census? Quite simply, in order to extract more money. Joseph has to travel with his pregnant wife the 100 miles from Nazareth to Bethlehem. Do the authorities care about Mary's condition? Do they compensate Joseph for hours lost at the carpenter's lathe or expenses incurred on an arduous journey? Of course they don't.
And then there's Herod, a puppet king suspended by the fragile threads of his own ego. Herod hears of a new king born in Bethlehem, and suddenly the knives are out and every boy-child is put to the sword. The holy family emigrate to Egypt, as fast as a donkey can take them. ...
Luke's gospel starts with Zechariah, serving in the holy of holies in the Jerusalem temple. It's his big day, and all the other priests are waiting for him to come out, and when he does come out he can't say a word. He's the guy who's been waiting all his life for this moment in the limelight, and when it comes he fluffs his lines.
Then there's Elizabeth, who's waited all her life to have a baby, and it's never come. Adulthood for her has been overshadowed by the monthly disappointments and the social stigma of childlessness. She's got no career to throw herself into: she's simply defined by what she's not. Being defined by what you're not is the essence of poverty.
Then there's Mary. She's got a different personal crisis. She's pregnant and she's clinging to a far-fetched story of who the father is. If you believe that one, you'll believe anything. It's hard enough finding yourself with an unexpected and unwelcome pregnancy in our own culture. Imagine the shame and fear for Mary, in a time when stoning for adultery was not unknown. As for Joseph, consider his humiliation. He's betrothed to this young woman, full of grace, and he thinks he's the luckiest man alive: and then he's made to feel a complete fool - and a heartbroken one at that.
Think for a moment about how large a role shame plays in our culture and in your own life. Shame is crushing, horrifying, terrifying. We'll do almost anything to avoid the searchlight of humiliation. Zechariah, Elizabeth, Mary and Joseph are all in different ways facing up to the reality of shame. At the same time, they're dealing with professional failure, personal disappointment, genuine fear and heart-breaking hurt. ...
Consider the chief priests and scribes whom Herod calls in to explain this rumour of the birth of the messiah. They're torn between their longing for the redemption of Israel and their social and economic loyalty to a corrupt regime. Everyone in the story is at a personal crossroads.
The danger of getting adults to perform the nativity story in a fragile emotional environment like downtown Delhi, drenched with beggars, smells, noise and smog, is that Christmas brings us face to face with the personal crises of our lives.
The Christmas story is teeming with personal grief, unresolved longings, uncomfortable secrets, shabby compromises, intense fears, social humiliation and aching hurts. We don't want to be reminded of these things at Christmas. The whole point of the holidays is to get together with people with whom you can ignore such things for a weekend, and if not be merry, at least eat and drink and enjoy one another for a while.
We don't want to think about our own grief and shame, and we certainly don't want to dwell on ways in which our insensitivity or selfishness might be making other's hurts and pain more intense than they already are."
http://www.abc.net.au/religion/articles/2015/12/24/4378479.htm
