by Jerome Lim, OCDS
15 Dec 2025 – Over the years, I have come to realise that Christmas can be lived in two very different ways. One is familiar, attractive, and joyful on the surface. The other is quiet, hidden, and deeply transforming. Both exist side by side, yet they lead the heart in very different directions.
Today, Christmas is often filled with lights, decorations, gatherings, gifts, and carefully prepared celebrations. These bring warmth and beauty, yet we can easily find ourselves focusing more on the celebration than on Christ. When that happens, Christ may be everywhere in name, but rarely encountered in the heart.
My Carmelite journey has helped me see this contrast more clearly. Carmelite spirituality constantly draws me back to the interior life, where God chooses to dwell. Christmas is not about excess, but about God choosing smallness. The Word did not come with power or splendour, but as a child laid in a manger. This alone challenges the way I approach Christmas.
It was especially during Advent that I became more aware of how the heart is prepared to receive the true meaning of Christmas. Advent, in the Carmelite spirit, is a school of waiting and interior silence. By entering more intentionally into prayer and stillness, I learned to listen rather than rush, to be present rather than occupied. In this quiet attentiveness, God draws near. As Scripture reminds us, “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). Like Mary, who “pondered all these things in her heart” (Luke 2:19), Advent formed my heart to receive Christ not merely as an event to celebrate, but as a Presence to welcome.
Living this spirit meant making concrete choices. I intentionally slowed my pace, spent time in quiet prayer before the crib, and embraced simplicity over excess. These small acts created space for a deeper encounter.
St Teresa of Ávila reminds us that prayer is a loving exchange between friends, and at Christmas this friendship becomes tangible. God draws near, vulnerable and trusting. St Thérèse of Lisieux teaches me that it is in small, hidden acts of love that the mystery of the Incarnation continues to unfold.
Through this Carmelite lens, Christmas became deeply personal. The manger mirrors my own poverty, yet also becomes the place where God desires to dwell. Christmas is no longer just a season, but a daily invitation to welcome Christ into my family life, my work as a teacher, my service in Scouting movement, and my mission in the Church.
This is how I have come to understand Christmas not as something to be consumed, but as Someone to be received. When Christ is truly at the centre, everything else finds its proper place. Joy deepens, celebrations become meaningful, and love becomes intentional.
The mystery of Christmas does not end at the manger. The Child born in Bethlehem desires to be born within the soul. As St Teresa of Ávila gently reminds us, Do not think that He is far from you, for He is within you.
The Carmelite saints teach us that this mystery is not confined to Bethlehem, but continues in the depths of the heart. St John of the Cross expresses this with striking clarity, What we need most in order to make progress is to be silent before this great God, for the language He best hears is silent love.
May this Christmas find us slowing down, embracing silence, and opening our hearts, so that in this silent love Christ may be born anew. Not in haste, not in noise, but within us, where He chooses to dwell.
