On September 11th, familiar realities suddenly became lethal; planes were transformed into weapons of mass destruction; the unthinkable was thought and done. No response of ours - military might, the political pursuit of justice, sending relief and development aid - can undo the realisation of how vulnerable we are. Nothing we can do is enough to remove the injustice and hardship suffered by members of the human family at home and abroad. Every success is inadequate and late.
September 11th brought us face to face with something fundamental about ourselves. However much we work to make the world a better place, however powerfully we combat threats, however great our achievements, we are flawed and mortal. All those we love are fragile and fallible. Nothing in this world is perfect; nothing lasts forever. The collapse of the towers showed us a truth, which we would be foolish to forget.
The prophet, exiled in Babylon, wanted God to intervene mightily in history as in times past, slaying dragons, drying up the sea and bringing the chosen people safely home from exile and danger. So, he prayed: "Awake, awake, put on strength, O arm of the Lord" (Isaiah 51:9). He looks to the time when the Lord will indeed have "bared his holy arm" (52:10).
Part of that prophecy is read at Mass on Christmas morning to celebrate the fact that the Lord has awoken and bared his holy arm. But where is its strength? It does not carry powerful weapons or wield irresistible force. It is the fragile arm of a tiny baby.
God does not come to surround us with an armour plate of invulnerability. If we face the uncertainty of life, if we recognise the unreliability of our hopes and expectations, if we seriously reflect on the inevitability of death, we may begin to see how extraordinary the truth is. God's eternal Son is born in a stable in order to be vulnerable with us. At the end of his life the arm of Jesus is bared once more - and brutally nailed to a cross.
There is no armour plate of invulnerability. The World Trade Centre was a massive structure, apparently impregnable. The latest Spielberg film had a scene set in New York thousands of years from now. All that could be seen over the greatly raised sea level was the top of the twin towers. The scene had to be redone.
We are not indestructible. It is self-deception to imagine we are secure and indispensable because of our achievements, reputation, possessions or talents. Nowhere on the planet would one have found so many high achievers, so many highly regarded, wealthy and talented people as in the twin towers. When the planes struck, those were not the things that mattered.
These may seem to be gloomy Christmas thoughts. Christmas is a time for celebration. We want it to be a memorably happy time, especially for children. But there is a current of vulnerability about Christmas celebrations. We remember past Christmases and those who have died. We are aware of the uncertainty of the future. Will we all be alive next year? What kind of world will it be when today's children remember us as they celebrate Christmas with their children or grandchildren? What will have happened to them in the meantime?
Christmas means that we do not have to hide from our vulnerability. We do not have to seek security where it is not to be found. The arm of God, tiny and weak in the stable, agonised and bloodied on the cross, reaches out to us. It is the all-powerful arm that drew the whole universe into existence. It is also a welcoming arm that embraces us. It is the arm of Someone who has been vulnerable with us.
The celebration of Christmas does not mean closing our eyes in the face of the world's suffering. It is rightly a time when we remember our vulnerable Lord by trying to help his suffering brothers and sisters.
Christmas does not mean ignoring the unpredictability of our own lives. We look to the Lord who has been threatened and betrayed, who has suffered and died. We know that he is with us and that he is leading us into a world where there will be no more death or mourning or weakness or uncertainty. We recognise our fragility and the fragility of our world with realism but with joy and we wish one another, A Happy Christmas.
Donal Murray is Roman Catholic Bishop of Limerick