Missionaries of the Sacred

December means Christmas.  I have always loved Christmas. Advent is my favorite season.  I thoroughly enjoy the lights, the decorations, the music, the lifted spirits of the shoppers.  I even like the cold and snow. Cross country skiing was my favorite sport when I was younger.

When I volunteered to serve in Papua New Guinea, I think what I missed most of all was the American Christmas.  Of course, the Christians of Papua New Guinea celebrate Christmas.  Their music is beautiful, their decorations in the village churches were breath taking, mostly made by hand using the material, plants and flowers from the bush or forest nearby.  But it wasn’t the music or decorations I was used to.  I remember hearing White Christmas and Jingle Bells on the radio and grumbling to myself “What do they know about snow or horse drawn sleigh or even jingle bells?”  After all, Papua New Guinea is just south of the equator.  Eventually I was no longer grumpy about Christmas, but I did come back on leave to the USA for a sabbatical and one more American Christmas.  I returned to Papua New Guinea to serve a few more years before I came home to stay.  I have now been home for five years and enjoy every Advent and Christmastide.

Once in August when I was home on leave, I saw on sale a little Christmas tree which would dance, bouncing its branches up and down, and sing Jingle Bells when you clapped your hands.  I bought it and airmailed it to Papua New Guinea to be sure it would be there for Christmas.  The tree did not cost much but the shipping by air and the customs in Papua New Guinea cost a bundle.  However, Christmas came and my little tree began to sing and dance in my window after Mass.  About forty people stood there and watched and listened and clapped their hands for it to sing again.  We used up three sets of batteries that year.  But the crowning event came in the following August when I heard a little girl playing outside my quarters and singing Jingle Bells.  I am sure that much of my efforts in Papua New Guinea had a good effect on people, but this one stays clearly in my memory.

When I was young I just knew there would always be a Christmas every year.  At middle age I begin to wonder how many Christmas seasons I would have.  Now, as an old man, I sometimes wonder if I will have another one.  Jesus came to us on the first Christmas.  He comes to us every time we receive Holy Communion.  And, I sincerely believe He stays with us in our hearts all the time whether or not we know it or believe it.

Sometimes I wonder when will I go to be with Him.  I do know that I am with Him in His heart all the time just like He is with me in my heart.

When he came to us he had nothing, nothing at all.  He depended upon Mary and Joseph for everything, food, clothing, love, care, and upbringing.  When I go to him I will depend for everything upon Him, upon Mary and Joseph and all of my relatives and friends and fellow Missionaries of the Sacred Heart, who have gone on before.  I wonder if it will be like the first Christmas.  Will I be announced by an angel?  Will others in heaven come to greet me?  Will they say “Hi, Joe.  We have been waiting for you”.  Will it be another Christmas for me?

If you think you might be called to make a difference as a Missionary of the Sacred Heart you can contact:

Peace,

Brother Joe Tesar, MSC