In winter 1732, peasants flocked to rustic churches in the mountains of Southern Italy to hear a priest of noble birth speak to them in their own dialect of the miracle of Christ’s birth. Alphonsus Liguori was a prodigy: an artist, musician, poet, and lawyer. At the age of 32, he was ordained a priest and left the glitter of Naples to missionize the wretched poor of the hill country. No one had ever spoken to them as he did.

In places where visitors seldom came and few could  read,  his words were comforting balm. “When the first angel of Bethlehem sang Glory to God and Peace on Earth,” Liguori explained, “Millions of angels descended and sang with him. The stars shown so brightly that it seemed like midday.” This was a scene his listeners could imagine and one which moved them deeply. God had become little so he could become one of us — to be approached, held, and loved. 

A hymn Liguori had composed described  how at the moment of Christ’s birth, birds awoke from their nocturnal sleep and joined the chatter of  crickets to exult: “He is born! He is born! The God who created us is born!’ It told how in the middle of winter, thousands of roses bloomed. So great was the impression upon his listeners, that crowds followed the priest from village to village to hear again the wondrous message. The centrality of Christmas, even today, defines folk religion in Southern Italy.

This past summer, Alice and I visited Naples and then continued to the heel of  the Italian Peninsula. With temperatures soaring into the 90s, we were surprised to find Christmas creche scenes often on display in shops and churches. More than simple portrayals of  the Holy Family and a few shepherds, the creches recreated scenes of 1700s Naples. Streets were crowded with laborers, swineherds, barmaids, and hawkers. There were men on horseback and women in elegant sedan chairs. Beggars, the Italian dogs, and pigs were underfoot. Members of every level of society were busy displaying their finery or plying their trades amidst crumbling, ivy-covered ruins. All but obscured were the figures of the Christ Child, Mary, and Joseph. 

 The elaborate scenes were unusual, but their meaning was clear. Through his birth, Christ became one of us. For better or for worse, for whatever may come, He remains with us today. It is a message that goes far beyond the saccharine Santa Clauses, strobe lights, and canned music of modern holidays. 

In the years following the visits of the unusual priest, other men of his religious order continued to serve the poorest and neediest of the Italian mountain country. The Christmas hymn Alphonsus Liguori composed, later translated into Italian as “Tu Scendi dalle Stelle…O Bambino, mio Divino” (“You come down from the stars… O my Divine Child”),  has been described by Italian singer, Andrea Bocelli, as the most popular Italian Christmas song of all time. But, deeper still, is its message of an infinite and loving God who became incarnate in the flesh of a tiny child.