In my post-Christmas days off of work, I went to morning daily mass as I often do.

While most people are excited for the run-up to Christmas, I think the days right after Christmas are a quieter time for spiritual reflection and enjoying the miracle of Christmas. Many places in the world don’t give gifts on Christmas day, but on Epiphany (Jan 6th, when the magi are said to have arrived). It’s a good reminder that Christmas is celebrated from Christmas day until the Baptism of the Lord, which usually falls on the Sunday after Epiphany (so, usually the second Sunday of January).

The day after Christmas while I was praying before mass, I wondered what it was like for Joseph and Mary with their 1 day old newborn. Surely Jesus was like every other 1 day old newborn. Equal amounts of being very tiny, vulnerable, precious, and probably the most beautiful thing their parents had ever seen.

While kneeling during the eucharistic prayer during mass, it occurred that this same Jesus, this same tiny child, was present there on the alter as the Eucharist.

It reminded me of the wonder and care we should have when we receive the Eucharist. It should be no less than that of how we would love, adore, and have care with that of a newborn child placed in our arms. The actual presence of Christ our Lord who is carried in us when we receive the Eucharist and go out into the world each day. A Lord who was not only the creator of the universe, but inexplicably, was also willing to become as vulnerable as a newborn infant.

This is an astounding demonstration of love – and one that utterly defeats the pride and arrogance of evil. God gives up an infinite heavenly paradise to join us in our daily lives of joys, toils, and struggles. This is who is present in the Eucharist and wants me to carry Him into the world.

How much of my own comfort am I willing to give up to help those who have it much worse than myself? Would I give up living in a palace to come live with and help the homeless, the spiritually and emotionally lost, the ill?

Perhaps that’s why we have so many saints who did exactly that – such as Elizabeth of Hungary who eschewed her royalty as princess and queen to put a leper in her own bed to care for him. She later used her extensive wealth to open hospitals and then cared for the sick in them. Another is the work of Mother Teresa, who picked up the dying poorest of the poor from the gutters if only to give them a little dignity before death. What am I called to do?