At the heart of the Christmas story, nestled in the opening verses of two Gospels, lies the birth of Jesus, the long awaited Messiah. These words speak of a King born not in the grand halls of a world capital, but in the squalor of a manger—a place of vulnerability. As the angels proclaimed peace on earth, humanity was presented with the ultimate paradox: the Prince of Peace, born unexpectedly, in the midst of ongoing war and turmoil.
For centuries, the people of Israel had awaited the Messiah. Prophecies spoke of a leader—a descendant of David—who would reign with justice, righteousness, and power, establishing peace and ending war. Yet, the birth of Jesus subverted these expectations. His arrival in Bethlehem, a humble town far from the centers of power, in a stable—far from the palatial splendor expected—stood in stark contrast to the vision of the Messiah for whom they had hoped. This new King was not to be crowned with pomp and circumstance but laid in a manger.
The Jewish religious leaders—the priests, the scribes, and the political elite—failed to recognize Him. In contrast, it was three Gentiles—the Magi, astrologers from the East—who, guided by a star, traveled great distances to worship the newborn King. They brought gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh—symbols of kingship, divinity, and sacrifice. In this moment of recognition, we see the first of many reversals in Jesus’s life.
“Emmanuel,” meaning “God with us,” speaks to the essence of the incarnation. The divine entered the human story, not from a throne of power or glory, but in the most vulnerable form imaginable: as a helpless infant. For Israel, the idea of God dwelling among them in such a form was incomprehensible. God had appeared to them in mighty and dramatic ways—through burning bushes, clouds, and powerful signs. But now, His reign would not be marked by military victories or territorial expansion, but as a savior bringing peace.“The lion will lie down with the lamb, and there will be no more war” (Isaiah 11:6).
In a world still torn by war, suffering, and oppression, Jesus brings a radically different message: the way of peace through humility and sacrifice. For Israel, this Messiah’s mission seemed subversive, even counterproductive. Why would God send a vulnerable child, who would grow up to be rejected, betrayed, and crucified, to lead His people? Yet, in this “stumbling block” lies the key to understanding the Messiah’s role: true peace cannot be achieved through force or domination. It comes instead through reconciliation, forgiveness, as a Savior.
The incarnation—the moment when God became man—transcends not only the aspirations of a single nation, but points to something deeply transcendent in all human beings. Jesus wasn’t merely a figure for one people, one land, or one age, but for all of humanity, to transcend all boundaries and offering a vision of peace for the whole world. His birth calls for an inward transformation, not a territorial expansion. This is the true meaning of the Christmas message: not a conqueror born to overthrow empires, but a child born to change hearts.
As we reflect on the Christmas story, The hymn "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel" reminds us of that ultimate sacrifice on the cross. In a world still rife with wars, we are called to embrace this peace—not through military power, but through the giving of life by the Messiah, who came into the world in the most humble form imaginable: an infant born in exile. No room at the inn, no ties to earthly kingdoms, but only a manger for the Prince of Peace.
For unto us a child is born, the fist noel, the King of Israel, the breakthrough moment for all mankind. Born not to a party or race, or gender, but for the souls of all who would believe. In silence one round yon virgin, with holy infant, to offer a new peace not by swords or assassinations, but with the guided light of new solidarity defined by shared suffering.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel Shall come to thee, O Israel