A Baby for Christmas

The day before the world was supposed to end, I watched life enter into it.

It was the birth of my nephew, and though my mom and sister thought for sure I'd be completely grossed out and scarred for life, I was in awe rather than disgust.

Life in its humble beginnings isn't exactly pretty--no sunshine and butterflies.  It's gory and painful, but it's how we all come into the world.  Our lives begin quietly and in secret, but we enter the world wailing and bloody.

When God sent His Son to walk among us, He didn't miss a beat.  Christ entered fully into the human experience.  When He entered the world, it wasn't even in a clean hospital with doctors, nurses and specialists around monitoring His heartbeat.  (Can you imagine Jesus' heart being monitored?  I think the machine would explode.)  He was in a stable with smelly animals and their poo.

I was thinking about all this as I cuddled my nephew close on Christmas morning.  The floor in the living room around the Christmas tree was littered with gifts and wrapping paper. The baby, just recently changed and fed, slept through it all.  He didn't care about the adorable tuxedo onesie I got for him.  He was just content to be warm, dry, and fed.

And I wondered about all the people who weren't those things on Christmas morning.  Jesus came for them, not for the pile of presents under our tree.  We always say, "It's Jesus' birthday, not ours, so we should just be thankful for what we have."  But we still give each other presents, stuff we don't need.  And what do we give Jesus?  An hour of church time?  No, that's what He gives us--Himself in the Eucharist, made possible by the Incarnation.

"To whom much is given much is expected." (Luke 12:48)  That verse haunts me.  It rattles the walls of my conviction and makes me dig deeper and wonder how firmly I really believe.  Because if I really believed it--in God's love and mercy and goodness--it shouldn't scare me at all.

I found these videos on Ann Voskamp's blog (author of One Thousand Gifts).  You're welcome.
 

Jesus wept.

My English advisor and professor asked us once what the most powerful passage in the Gospel is.  I racked my brain wondering if it was a trick question--wouldn't it be different for everyone, depending on each person's perspective?  But she told us, "Jesus wept."  Two simple words, a noun and a verb, three syllables, and they express the depth of the mystery.

Jesus, the Word of God incarnate in the flesh, became man.  Fully human, and also fully divine.  I know that I tend to take on the attitude that because Jesus is also God, He had a somewhat easy pass through life.  Sure, the Passion of His death and resurrection was pretty brutal, but again, He's God.  He can do anything!  And He has a superhuman strength with which to do it--right?  Wrong.  He has the same strength and emotions as the rest of us.

When His friend died, and even when He knew that in a few moments He would raise his friend from the dead for the greater glory of God, He wept.

The mystery of the Incarnation is expressed in these two words.  That God Himself suffered loss, experienced the pain of losing a loved one and, even with great faith that all was for God's glory, He wept.

We watch the news and weep and know that God weeps with us.  But we can trust that He receives those children in His merciful love with open arms, just as He embraces the world from the cross.

Eat the Mystery

When we find ourselves groping along, famished for more, we can choose.  When we are despairing, we can choose to live as Israelites gathering manna.  For forty long years, God's people daily eat manna--a substance whose name literally means "What is it?"  Hungry, they choose to gather up that which is baffling.  They fill on that which has no meaning.  More than 14,600 days they take their daily nourishment from that which they don't comprehend.  They find soul-filling in the inexplicable.

 They eat the mystery.   ~One Thousand Gifts, Ann Voskamp

We are wandering like the Israelites in the desert of faith on our journey to the Promised Land.  We have the choice to continue following the path of love to Truth, to continue participating in the Mass and eating the mystery that is the Eucharist, and letting that be enough for now.

I know that for those of us who have recently graduated from college in this economy, mystery is often the only answer we know.  It can be frustrating while we strive to figure out where to go, what to do next--unless we embrace the mystery that is this life, eat this mystery, and savor it.  Savor the bitterness that comes with the sugar and spice, because it is all part of the gift.