Read Luke's account of Jesus's birth carefully, and you notice something: Mary and Joseph faced grave hardship. Joy and fear chase each other through the narrative—exultation and dismay, callings and answers, hesitation and courage woven together.
Every time I return to these pages, I cannot help but see in them the signs that have always accompanied the births of children who are somehow different.
So I find myself wanting to speak with you—mothers and fathers among our readers—about what it means to celebrate the birth of Jesus at a time when the world treats it with such shallow cheer. Because your Christmas calls you to something deeper: to reflect on the story of your lives alongside a child so different from the one you dreamed of, the one you had hoped for.
At Christmas, everyone celebrates with family. But for each of you, for each of your families, the feast arrives with a shadow. Some of you have learned to live with the difficult, demanding presence of this child. Some still cannot accept it and carry a quiet anger. Some continue to fight, day after day, to give him a life of dignity. Some are exhausted and wish someone else could take your place. Some still ask why, still rage against what happened—a burden that grows heavier with each passing year.
How I wish I could sit with you on Christmas evening, each one of you. I wish I could listen to your heart—so worn, yet so courageous. I wish I could hear the anniversaries you have marked beside him, in joy and in anguish, in fear and in trust, in weariness and in the daily struggle to go on.
With you and with him, I wish we could sing a Christmas carol that tells you this: you are not alone. Through the Love that Child Jesus gave us and continues to give us, we have learned that together we can overcome fear and fatigue, disappointment and despair.
So, whatever it costs—even if these seem to you only words—accept the respect and gratitude of all of us. Through your lives, devoted to your child, you give no small gift to the peace and hope of all people of goodwill.