After weeks of anticipation, the big day is here: Christmas! This morning, as I opened the final door of my Advent calendar, I found a small nativity scene. I don't think I've ever seen a tiny nativity set before. I've seen normal sized ones on dinner tables or in someone's living room. I've seen large ones in Churches and Cathedrals. I've seen outdoor living nativity sets. But never have I seen a tiny nativity. The littleness of this nativity set struck me. 

I thought back to the last few weeks of Advent, with its collection of small, “ordinary” items like a paperclip, a candle, and even a coffee bean. These little objects invited reflection and pointed to deeper truths. Today, this tiny nativity scene feels like the culmination of that journey. Christmas reminds us that in the littleness of Bethlehem, God revealed His greatness. In the tiny, helpless infant lying in a manger, the infinite God of the universe came to dwell with us.
Today’s Gospel tells the familiar story: Mary and Joseph, after a long journey, find themselves in Bethlehem with no place to stay. Amid the humblest of circumstances, Jesus is born and laid in a manger. The angels announce this momentous news not to kings or scholars but to shepherds—simple, hardworking people on the fringes of society. The message is clear: the glory of Christmas isn’t about grandeur or perfection. It’s about God entering our lives exactly as they are, in their messiness, simplicity, and imperfections.

This is a theme echoed in today’s readings. Isaiah proclaims, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light” (Isaiah 9:1). Titus reminds us of the grace of God, which “has appeared, saving all” (Titus 2:11). And the angels in the Gospel declare “good news of great joy… for all the people” (Luke 2:10). The good news of Christmas is that God’s love doesn’t require us to be perfect or grand. He meets us in the littleness of our lives and transforms it with His presence.


As I reflected on the Advent Calendar's tiny nativity scene, I found myself asking: How can I welcome Christ into my heart and home today? Christmas isn’t just a historical event we remember; it’s an invitation to make room for Jesus in the “mangers” of our own lives.

Like the innkeeper in Bethlehem, we can be tempted to say there’s no room—our hearts too cluttered with worries, busyness, or distractions. But Christmas calls us to make space. It doesn’t require dramatic gestures. Sometimes it’s as simple as setting aside time for prayer, sharing a meal with loved ones, or extending kindness to someone in need.

Christmas reminds us that God’s grandeur is revealed in small, humble ways. Littleness is the path that God chose to draw near to us, to save us and to bring us back to what really matters. Perhaps the best way to welcome Christ today is to embrace the littleness of the moment: holding a child’s hand, laughing with family, or offering forgiveness to someone we’ve been at odds with.


The gift of Christmas is that Christ has come to dwell with us. Now, the question is: What gift can I offer Him in return? This doesn’t have to be something extraordinary. Like the shepherds, we can offer our presence and our hearts. Like the Magi, we can bring the gifts of our talents and service.

Take a moment today to reflect on what you can offer Christ this Christmas. Perhaps it’s spending quality time with someone who’s lonely, reaching out to mend a broken relationship, or simply pausing to pray and give thanks. Small acts of love and service, offered with a joyful heart, become the greatest gifts of all.


As we gaze at the nativity scene, let’s remember that Christmas isn’t just a day—it’s a way of living. The message of the manger is that God is with us, not just on December 25 but every day. This year, let’s carry the littleness of Christmas into our daily lives. Let’s notice God’s presence in small moments and share His love through simple acts of kindness.

Today, Christ is born. The light has come into the darkness. Let’s welcome Him with open hearts and joyful service, knowing that in every humble moment, we reflect the wonder of the first Christmas night. Gloria in excelsis Deo!