Sr Lini Sheeja MSC (Germany) –
Can God humble Himself more than by being born in a manger? Can the Redeemer stoop lower than by entering a world that rejected Him as His parents searched for a place to give birth to Him?
Every year we celebrate Christmas with music, cookies, new clothes, parties, and special food. When we think of Christmas, images of lights, carols, and festive joy often fill our minds. Yet how often do we pause to reflect on the God who chose the manger, the God who accepted rejection even before His birth? While Mary and Joseph searched anxiously for a place to stay, no doors were opened for them and no houses welcomed them.
Jesus: A Migrant
When we celebrate Christmas, we rejoice in Jesus our Savior. But on this holy day, how many of us pause to see Jesus as a migrant, a child who experienced vulnerability, uncertainty, and displacement? The Christmas story is not only a celebration of salvation; it is also the story of a family on the move, searching for safety, shelter, and dignity. Jesus entered our world not in comfort, but in the fragile condition of those who are forced to leave home behind.
The Gospel of Luke tells us that Mary and Joseph traveled to Bethlehem because of a census. Caesar Augustus had ordered that every person return to their ancestral hometown to be registered. Since Joseph belonged to the line of David, he and Mary had no choice but to leave Nazareth and make the difficult journey to Bethlehem, David’s city. The road was long, the days exhausting, and Mary was about to give birth. By the time they arrived, the town was overflowing with people. Every place was full. There was no room for them, no space, no welcome. And so the Son of God entered the world not in a palace, not in comfort, but in a stable, cold, humble, and unprotected. In that moment, Jesus became, in a profoundly human and fragile way, a migrant child. His parents were travelers in search of shelter, safety, and dignity. The Savior of the world began His life as one who had no place to lay His head.
At Dachau Concentration Camp
In August, I traveled to Munich, Germany with my uncle, Fr. Jeremias, to visit the Dachau Concentration Camp. Standing there, on that soil of immense suffering, I found myself completely speechless. It was a day on which I simply could not smile. As I walked through the grounds and observed the faces of the people around me, silent, somber, reflective, I felt as though I had entered a vast funeral space. Every corner carried the weight of grief. Every step felt like walking through a memory of human pain. Dachau is a stark and haunting example of the suffering endured by the displaced. Established on March 22, 1933, near Munich, it was the first Nazi concentration camp, created shortly after Adolf Hitler rose to power. At first, it was meant to imprison political opponents, communists, socialists, and trade unionists. But over time, it became a place of terror for many more: Jews, Roma, Jehovah’s Witnesses, homosexuals, prisoners of war, and countless others whom the Nazi regime labeled as “undesirable.”
Treated not as Humans, but as Numbers!
These people were torn from their homes, stripped of their place in society, and erased from the world they knew. They experienced profound loss of home, of identity, of every sense of belonging. Many were arrested without explanation or justice, dragged away from loved ones, and deported to places unknown. They endured forced relocation, transported in overcrowded trains and trucks under brutal conditions. They suffered dehumanization and marginalization, stripped of their names, their clothing, their dignity, treated not as humans, but as numbers. They lived in constant vulnerability and insecurity, with no control over their work, their food, or even their survival. Every day was lived under the shadow of fear. Dachau stands not only as a historical site, but as a painful reminder of what happens when human dignity is denied. It continues to speak to us loudly and gravely about the suffering of all who are displaced, forgotten, or forced to live on the margins of our world.
This was the reality before and during the Second World War. Millions were forced to flee their homes, uprooted by violence, hatred, and persecution. They were treated as though their lives had no worth, reduced to something less than human.
The Second World War (1939–1945) witnessed unimaginable suffering, including:
• The Holocaust, where six million Jews were systematically murdered.
• Mass killings, forced labor, and deliberate targeting of civilians across Europe and Asia.
• The displacement of millions of refugees and prisoners of war.
• A profound and widespread violation of human dignity.
Who can Answer Me?
And this brings me to a painful question:
· Has the suffering of humanity ever truly ended?
· If the world has learned from history, why do wars continue?
· Why must innocent people still lose their lives?
In 2022, when I came to Germany, I began with the German language course at Klausenhof Akademie in Dingden. I was in a language course with thirteen women from Ukraine. I remember how difficult it was for them to focus. Every phone call made them tremble. Every message brought fear. Their husbands were soldiers fighting in Ukraine, and they had been forced to flee, separated from their homes and their families. They had come to Germany because war left them no other choice.
Why Again?
Since the Russian invasion in February 2022, millions of Ukrainians have been forced to flee their homes. The scale of displacement has been overwhelming: more than eight million people have become refugees, seeking safety in neighboring countries such as Poland, Romania, Hungary, and Slovakia. Bombings and occupation have destroyed homes, schools, hospitals, and businesses, places where life once flourished. Families have been torn apart, many leaving loved ones behind without knowing if they will ever be reunited. Every day they live with fear, uncertainty, and the trauma of witnessing violence.
And what about Israel and Palestine? The long and painful conflict continues to create waves of displacement, especially in Gaza and parts of the West Bank. Bombings, military operations, and the loss of land have forced countless families to flee. Homes are reduced to rubble. Hospitals, schools, water systems, and electricity lines are damaged or destroyed. Access to food, clean water, electricity, and medical care is severely limited, plunging people into ongoing humanitarian crises. Children grow up knowing fear before they know peace.
In the middle of all this suffering, a few questions cry out from my heart: Why can’t we live in peace? Why do political powers destroy human lives? Why this hunger for land, for control, for wealth, at the cost of innocent people’s suffering?
Why is Peace only a Dream?
We enter this world with nothing, and we leave it with nothing. No land, no possessions follow us into death. So why do human beings grasp so desperately for what they cannot keep? Why must ordinary people, mothers, fathers, children pay the price for the ambitions and decisions of the powerful? These questions remain unanswered, echoing through the history of humanity. And yet, they must be asked again and again until peace is not a dream, but a lived reality.
Jesus said, “I was a stranger and you welcomed me” (Matthew 25:35). And truly, Jesus Himself was a stranger in Bethlehem. His parents went from door to door, seeking a place where Mary could give birth, yet found no room. This tender, painful moment in the Christmas story invites us to reflect on the millions of displaced children and families in our world today, refugees, migrants, and all who are searching for safety, dignity, and a place to belong. The birth of Jesus reminds us that God identifies with the vulnerable. God chose to enter the world not in comfort or security, but in uncertainty, poverty, and exile. He came as a child who knew what it meant to be without a home, without protection, without welcome.
Christmas Blessings
This Christmas,
let us reach out with compassion and tenderness:
To those who have no one left to care for them.
To those who long for a comforting hand or a word of hope.
To the children who have lost their parents and do not know where to turn.
To the young people whose dreams are slowly fading because they lack the support they so deeply need.
Christmas and New Year (2026) blessings to each one of you!
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Sr. Lini Sheeja, MSC, is a member of the Congregation of Missionary Sisters of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus. She has also served as the treasurer for the Conference of Religious India (CRI), Bangalore and as the National Secretary for Prison Ministry India. Additionally, she was the Chief Editor of “Prison Voice,” a national monthly magazine, and is the author of six books. In her sixth book, titled “O Justice, Where are You?,” she calls on readers to work together to bring about a just world. One of her books, titled, „Sound of Silence“ is published in six languages.
Thanks for reminding us about how inhuman we are when power goes to the head