Today (6 Dec), the feast of St. Nicholas of Myra, begins the season of the Nativity. Most of us, by now, have made at least one fearful foray into the wilderness of shopping malls and shopping streets filled to bursting with grim faced fellow travellers. The annual frenzy of gift giving by compulsion has arrived too – and as always it looms large, threatening to overshadow the feast that inspired it.

Nicholas was from an early age known to have the gift of teaching. He was a scholar as much as he was a faithful priest and bishop. He attended the Council of Nicea in 325, and during his lifetime was known for his many acts of what I’ll call “Christianity by example,” intervention on behalf of those standing in the face of hopelessness: he quietly tossed enough money through an impoverished man’s window so his daughters could marry into good families and not be sold into slavery/prostitution, alerted to the fact that local officials were about to execute three men falsely accused, Nicholas rushed to the scene and boldly snatched the executioner’s sword from his hand just as he was preparing to strike, through his prayerful intervention a ship of pilgrims was saved from a storm, and when gripped by famine the region of Myra received grain. Nicholas is what one scholar has called – a generalist saint, his scope of activity covers so many areas.

Many of the characters Nicholas aids are people who given their horrible turn of events one would not blame for being cynical or bitter. The poor man who was about to sell his daughters so the family could eat, for example, was once a prosperous nobleman. The men falsely accused of corruption, facing the executioner’s sword. Yet, in each case, because of the open act of giving of himself, his time, his talent and resources, Nicholas not only prevented further tragedy, but opened the way of hope and spiritual and emotional healing for these characters enabling them to once more look forward with joy and celebration.

Today’s Gospel reading is from Luke’s version of the Beatitudes (Lk. 6. 17-23). I would like to think that Jesus saw in that moment – surrounded as he was by the sick, the hated, and those suffering from unfortunate turns of event in their lives – an opportunity to further interrupt the cycle of suffering beyond mere cures and miracles. Healing the physical ailment does not necessarily address the need of the whole person to heal, the need for emotional and spiritual restoration in addition to, complimenting, the physical. One might be physically cured, but still harbour bitterness that it ever happened in the first place, or that it destroyed a prosperous business, or happy family life. In the Beatitudes Jesus turns the tables on human suffering, through the promise of hope, and the assurance of God’s presence, he urges us on to fight back the darkness of cynicism and bitterness, making way for hope.

In this way he invites us to be agents of change; who refusing to be defeated cast light upon the lives of others – “intervening” on their behalf. Nicholas took up that example, and its cause, and actively intervened in desperate situations – often dropping what he was doing to rush to the scene so as to interrupt the progress of despair and hopelessness. By his example he showed that one person convinced of the teachings of the Master could affect positive change for others.

Today is the beginning of the Nativity season – and though most of you will no doubt have thought it began over a month ago, when Hallmark plastered their shops, and your TV screens with images of fat Santas, and furry animals masquerading as a fourth century holy man – it is in fact today. The Feast of St. Nicholas, like the Feast of the Nativity IS about giving; giving in such a manner as to engender a positive change in circumstance; giving out of conviction that the teachings of Christ are effective in the cause for ending human suffering. In the person of Nicholas we have a broad, “generalist” example of how giving ought to be accomplished, and how a small act of intervention can bring about substantive change.