The Christmas season of 1921-1922 was life-changing for the Jewish German philosopher Edith Stein. Only months after reading a biography of St. Teresa of Avila in August 1921 and concluding “This is the truth,” Stein was baptized Jan. 1, 1922, and confirmed Feb. 2 — the feast of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary and traditionally considered the last day of the Christmas season.
Edith Stein knew Christmas bliss, then, but she also knew that “heaven and earth or not yet united,” as she wrote in the 1931 essay below. Noting the how closely Christmas is followed by the feast of St. Stephen, the first martyr, and the feast of the Holy Innocents, she reflects on the inextricable ties between the mystery of the cross and the mystery of the Incarnation.
Twelve years after her baptism, Stein entered the Carmelites, taking the name Sister Teresa Benedicta of the Cross. In 1942, she and her sister, also a Carmelite, were arrested by Nazi authorities and sent with other Catholics of Jewish background to Auschwitz, where it is believed they died Aug. 9.
The Mystery of Christmas
On the day after Christmas the Church removes her white garments and clothes herself in the color of blood, and on the fourth day in the violet of mourning: Stephen, the first martyr, the first to follow his Lord to death, and the infants of Bethlehem and Judea who were brutally slaughtered by crude henchmen, all have a place around the Child in the manger. What is the meaning of this message? Where now are the jubilant sounds of the heavenly choir? Where the peaceful bliss of Holy Night? Where is the peace on earth? Peace to those of good will; but not all are of good will. Therefore, the Son of the eternal Father must leave the splendor of heaven, because the mystery of evil has wrapped the earth in dark night.
Darkness covered the earth and he came as light to illumine the darkness, but the darkness did not comprehend him. To those who received him, he bought light and peace; peace with the Father in heaven, peace with everyone who like them are children of light and children of the heavenly Father, a deep interior peace of the heart; but no peace with the children of darkness. To them the Prince of Peace does not bring peace but the sword. He remains for them the stumbling block of scandal against which they charge and are smashed.
That is the one hard and serious fact which we may not allow to be obscured by the visible attraction of the Child in the manger. The mystery of the Incarnation and the mystery of evil belong together. The dark night of sin stands in stark and sinister contrast with the Light which came down from heaven.
The Child in the manger extends his little hands and his smile seems to be saying what would come forth later from the lips of the Man: “Come to me all you who are weary and heavy burdened”; and the poor shepherds out on the hills of Bethlehem, who heard the good news of the angel, follow his call and make their way with the simple answer, “Let us go to Bethlehem.” Upon the kings from the orient lands, who followed the wondrous star with similar simplicity, the Infant’s hands also dropped the dew of grace and “they rejoiced with great joy.”
These hands give and request at the same time: you wise men, lay down your wisdom and become like children; you kings, give up your crowns and your treasures and bow down meekly before the King of kings; do not hesitate to take up the burdens, sorrows, and weariness which his service demands. You children, who as yet cannot give of your own free will, of you these little hands will request your gentle life before it has even begun; it can serve no better purpose than sacrifice in praise of the Lord.
“Follow me,” say the little hands, words which later would come from the lips of the Man. Thus they spoke to the disciple whom the Lord loved and who is now also part of the group at the manger. Saint John, the young man with the pure, youthful heart followed without asking, “Where to? Why?” He left his father’s boat and went with the Lord along all his ways, even to Golgotha.
“Follow me” — young Stephen also understood this. He followed the Lord in the struggle against the powers of darkness, the blindness of obstinate unbelief; he bore witness to him with his word and his blood; he followed him in his spirit, the spirit of love, which resists sin but loves the sinner, and even in death intercedes with God on behalf of the murderer.
These are the figures of light who kneel around the manger: the gentle, innocent children, the faithful shepherds, the humble kings, Stephen, the enthusiastic youth and beloved apostle, John — all of them followed the call of the Lord.
In contrast to them, there is the night of incomprehensible callousness and blindness: the scribes who have information as to the time and place where the Savior of the world is to be born, but who say nothing about “Let us go the Bethlehem!” and King Herod who wants to kill the Lord of Life. In the presence of the Child in the manger, the spirits line up to take sides. He is the King of kings and Lord of life and death. He utters his “follow me” and whoever is not for him is against him. He also speaks for us and invites us to choose between light and darkness.
From The Mystery of Christmas: Incarnation and Humanity (1931) by Edith Stein, translated by Sister Josephine Rucker, SSJ (1950).
