The fruit of the Nativity: Poverty

Nothing in the life of Christ was arbitrary, least of all His birth and His death. His first sigh and his final breath were marked by telling poverty. There is a ‘magic’ to the story of the Nativity, to be sure: the charm of the tender babe surrounded by the adoring gaze of lowly shepherds, roused by an army of Angels in the night sky. Our imaginations are captivated by the grand summons of the Star, which beckons three kings from Eastern lands to lay their crowns before the King of Israel. Still, I think we sometimes romanticize the stark poverty of the Holy Family. Jesus was born into the cold chill of a winter’s night. His first smell was the muck of the animals with which He lodged. His first bed is not a cradle built by St. Joseph’s strong hands and lined with Our Lady’s linens, but the feeding trough of beasts. Not only is there no room for Him in the traveler’s inn, He also becomes a refugee in His first days – an exiled child seeking refuge in Egypt. With an infinity of resources at His fingertips, the Heavenly Father chooses not wealth but want for His beloved Son. Why?

Because His Kingdom is not of this world. Because His Kingdom is born only in the poor of spirit. Because we need His example of poverty to detach our hearts from the passing things of this earth.

When we are surrounded by earthly riches, our senses tend to stop at those riches and we set our hearts on them. It’s for good reason that St. Paul warns, “For the love of money is the root of all evils; it is through this craving that some have wandered away from the faith and pierced their hearts with many pangs” (1 Tim 6:10). Everything this world esteems – prestigious careers, large homes, status-signaling cars, sexual pleasures, fine dining experiences, expensive vacations and the latest technological gadgets – are all too compelling for our fallen human nature, wounded by original sin. When we set our hearts on the things of this world, they become too bloated with earthly concerns to look higher to God and His Kingdom. We lose availability for God. Yet the splendors of that Kingdom make the splendors of earth look like pottery shards set beside pure gold. This is why the first beatitude is, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven” (Matt 5:3). Only the poor in spirit know that earthly treasures are mere pottery shards. Unenamored by them, they aspire higher and lay claim to gold: the possession of God and a place of glory in His everlasting home.

Is it surprising that St. Francis, the poor man of Assisi, was the first to create a Nativity scene? Captivated by Christ’s poverty, Francis cast underfoot his earthly inheritance to obtain an eternal one. Having freely given up everything for the sake of the Gospel – even the clothes on his back – He made poverty the foundation of the Franciscan Order. His Rule opened with the words of Jesus: “If thou wilt be perfect, go, sell what thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me” (Matt 19:21). Francis insisted that money and ownership must not impede the spiritual life of his brethren. On a personal level, he sought to deprive himself of earthly things to the point of heroism. For example, he wore a single patched tunic and welcomed the bare earth as his bed and a rock for his pillow.

While few are called to live the degree of poverty embraced by Francis, we are all called to unhinge our hearts from earthly things. Here are some ideas for practicing evangelical poverty as a twenty-first century Canadian Catholic:

Avoid status symbols like the plague!
When you’re out shopping, deny yourself that something that catches your eye but you don’t really need.
Opt for second-hand goods over new ones – even if you can afford to buy new.
Fast by skipping a meal. Donate the money you would have spent on that meal to a soup kitchen.
Simplify your wardrobe. Forget the fads. Buy new clothes only when old ones don’t fit or wear out.
When that coveted item is out of stock, respond by praising God in your heart. (Not so easy!)
Replace your next cruise vacation with a simple pilgrimage.
Tithe generously. Give until you feel a pinch. (That pinch is the sign that selfish desires are dying, making more room in the heart for God.)

When sacrifices like these seem like too much for our narrow hearts, we can meditate on the poverty of the Holy Family and the ABUNDANCE of the life to come. If we truly believe that, “no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man conceived, what God has prepared for those who love him” (1 Cor 2:9), our acts of self-denial will seem small for so generous a God. He was born without treasures to teach us that He is the Treasure who alone can satisfy our hearts.