The Perfection of Imperfection: Christmas
by Paulist Fr. Rich Andre
December 24, 2016

The Nativity of the Lord (Christmas Eve)
(Isaiah 9:1-6; Psalm 96; Titus 2:11-14; Luke 2:1-14)
24 December 2016 – St. Austin Parish, Austin, TX



Welcome, welcome! Welcome to our regular parishioners, welcome to those who are back in town for the holidays, welcome to those traveling, and an especially warm welcome to those who have joined us at the request of other family members. You all help make this celebration all that it is meant to be, as evidenced by those who gathered in the stable during the first Christmas – humble Jewish shepherds and magnificent Persian astrologers. Once again, welcome!

But of course, tonight, we welcome someone else into our presence. Tonight, we celebrate that God has come among us. This is the same God who walked with us in the cool of evening in the garden of Eden, the God born in a stable in the Middle East, the God present tonight in this very room, the God who is always God-with-us. Let us take a moment to celebrate that!


Even if you rarely come to Mass, you’ve probably noticed over the past five years that we’ve changed a lot of the words we say at Mass. This is because people throughout the English-speaking world are now using a translation of the Mass that is closer to the Latin used in Rome.

I became a priest during the first year of the new translation, so I didn’t have the privilege of frequently hearing the new phrases before I was the one who had to lead everyone else in praying them. And my first assignment as a priest was in a multi-purpose space that didn’t use hymnals. All the words were projected on a screen just behind where I was standing. 

One of the new lines that made me most nervous – and occasionally still makes me nervous — is what we say right before the distribution of communion. You see, when I hold up the consecrated elements, it’s hard for me to look down and see the words in front of me in the Roman Missal. But at that first church where I served as a priest, the words were displayed on the screen behind me for all the other people to see. The new translation more clearly evokes the words of the Roman centurion who asks Jesus to heal his servant: “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word, and my soul shall be healed.”

Five years into the new translation, that whole “under my roof” line is rolling off my tongue a little more easily. But the “under my roof” concept is still a new way to think about the Eucharist. The old translation, “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you” seems to make more literal sense than “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof.”  

But the roof metaphor speaks to us in a new way about the great mystery of Christmas. God may be all-powerful and all-knowing, but God is not remote. God is present among us! God became a human being and lived with us, walked among us. The human and the divine are not separated from one another. 

So many of us in the United States, however, seem to miss the point of this during the Christmas season. We think that we’re supposed to stop being human for several weeks and be perfect instead. We’re supposed to go to a string of perfect parties with perfect decorations, with perfectly-prepared foods, have perfect conversations, and perhaps even sing a few Christmas carols together… perfectly. If you’ve ever watched Martha Stewart on TV, you know that it can be difficult and time-consuming just to make the perfect hors d’oeuvres and a perfect centerpiece. How can we humans keep up the illusion of perfection for several weeks at a time?

Y’know, the original Christmas scene sure doesn’t look perfect. At its center, we have an unexpected pregnancy. Neither Mary nor Joseph apparently had many financial or family resources, since they couldn’t find room in the inn. The world did not find Jesus, the Christ, God’s very son, worthy to be born under a roof. The first people to receive the news of his birth were shepherds, the lowest of the low in the Judean pecking order. And while Martha Stewart probably has suggestions on how to throw a festive picnic in a barn, I doubt she ever imagined using such a venue for entertaining Persian astrologers bearing frankincense, myrrh, and gold!

But we’re pretty sure that Mary and Joseph accepted these first visitors – both local shepherds and foreign astrologers – with humble grace. They accepted that they and their Son were worthy of such visitors and such gifts. And while the world had decided that Jesus was not worthy to be born under a roof, these visitors saw Jesus’ worthiness amid the squalor.

Lord, we are not worthy to come under your roof…. but Christmas tells us that we can be made worthy. The central mystery of Christmas is one of those words that ends in “T-I-O-N” that priests should try to avoid using in homilies: INCARNATION. We celebrate tonight that we human beings can touch the divine in the most ordinary circumstances of the real world. God has lived among us. God himself was born in a stable. God was born to parents who probably never shook the rumors of the scandal of the pregnancy. God grew up surrounded by death threats from King Herod. Christmas tells us that humans can be holy. The mystery of the incarnation makes it clear, once and for all, that God understands that the world is not perfect, and we are not perfect.

But wait a minute! Isn’t this the same Jesus who told us to be perfect as our heavenly father is perfect? Well, yes. But many scripture scholars believe that Jesus is talking about being perfect in only one way: being perfect in love.  

So, if Martha Stewart is not the proper role model for incarnational spirituality, is there another voice to whom we can listen? I think there is. I suggest Judith Martin, better known as “Miss Manners.” If you’ve ever read her column, you know that a lot of what she does is advise us how to act in awkward, less-than-ideal situations, and still bring peace on earth. Judith Martin realizes that many people are nervous to invite her over for dinner. She finds this ridiculous. If her hosts would do anything incorrectly, she’d be the last person to point out their errors: that would be rude!

So, in this time when we gather with friends and family, can we resolve to be more like Judith Martin and less like Martha Stewart? Let’s not expect perfection of anything or anyone. Instead, lets look beyond the discarded wrapping paper and the television blaring football games, and simply drink in the mystery of the incarnation in everyone around us. Let’s recognize how God is present, even in imperfect people and imperfect situations.  

Friends, we are not worthy to have the Lord come under our roofs, but the Lord comes under our roofs, anyway. And if none of us are worthy, then all of us can be made worthy.

So, in the upcoming hours and days, if someone at one of our celebrations says something or does something that gets under our skin, can we try to continue to drink in the mystery of the incarnation? Can we respond to imperfection with the love of our heavenly Father? That would be perfect.