by Abbot Timothy Kelly, OSB
I have wondered at times if there is anything quite so frightening to a man as beholding , or better yet, holding a new born baby. Many of us have memories of being asked if we would like to hold a small baby and telling the other person, "Let me sit down first, and then you gently place the baby in my arms." We place our hand between the neck and the head, two fingers stretched up to support the head, convinced that if we do not, the baby’s head will fall off. I am told that this seldom happens. Then we sit frozen, and the baby detects instantly the look of terror on our face, and we get into a panic when the baby starts crying. Mother comes to the rescue, to the great relief of the inexperienced
man.But I applaud the carefulness of the person who is completely astounded at the presence of this little life that contains so much mystery. And that is where we are tonight. We are faced with the mystery of God present in human form, of the Word-made-flesh and dwelling among us. A woman once told me that she has no trouble worshiping God as a baby, far more problem with the image of a royal God inaccessible to us little people. I suspect that on reflection, we find this to be the case with us, especially when letting ourselves go we allow ourselves to be mystified by the mystery present in the face of each baby we have ever seen up close.
Most wonderful of all is that we know we all started out this same way. We were the mystery that others looked upon in such wonder and love. Blessed are those children who grow up in such an atmosphere of loving regard. Parents look at their children and try to figure them out, and they often do so by seeing in them the characteristics of looks and mannerisms that remind them of their relatives. Children catch on to this quickly.
One day when I was with a gaggle of grandnieces and grandnephews we got to talking about who people looked like. "Who do I look like?," one might ask. "Oh, you have your mother’s nose, and you have your father’s ears, and you have your Uncle Jasper’s smile, and you have your grandfather’s big toe." Then one asked me, "Who do you look like?" And I responded, "Well, who do you think I look like?" Then came the voice of a tiny rug-rat out of left field saying, "Barney!" Never ever ask that
question of a child unless you feel particularly invulnerable!
But should we be concentrating so much on the child Jesus at this time? It is true that our celebration of the Lord’s birth foreshadows His coming again on the last day. And we hope to be prepared for that Second Coming. But perhaps there is a deep intuition in us that tells us not to neglect the historical birth of a baby who, though all that has came to be through Him, nevertheless comes in weakness and complete dependency so that we might know without a doubt the tremendous love of God for each and all.Can we then imagine salvation coming to us in such weakness that a ruler can presume to negate the gift of God by murdering first, the Holy Innocents, and eventually, the Word-made-flesh? This child that is born is weak to the extreme, wholly dependent, completely at the mercy of humanity, yet is Himself the God of glory through whom all that is was made. Shepherds looked upon what was weakest in this world and bowed down in worship of the eternal God.
In the strength of His full adulthood and manhood another set of powerful rulers showed their superior power by hanging on the cross the One through Whom they were created. Then at the moment of His ultimate weakness, the moment of His death on the cross, a centurion, representative of the world’s power, bows before him and says, "Truly this man was the Son of God" (Mk 15:39).
God comes to us in weakness to show us that God’s presence is made known in weakness, not in what the world considers power. We do welcome a baby at Christmas, a helpless dependent small child who embodies the very Word God pronounced that created all that is. It might be easier to
identify the presence of God in the small, the weak and the poor, the exploited, the victims of injustice, in Iraqi civilians who die because of our bombs, than it is to recognize our humble God in the pomp and power of potentates.Self-preserving conservatives and limousine liberals can all learn from the humble Christ who entered Jerusalem on the back of a donkey. He challenged abusive power that would not adapt to human need, just as he confronted fine idealistic words pronounced from the comfort of secure sanctuaries. We have no right to point fingers at others because we too are like the one who, the psalmist tells us, "sees himself with too flattering an eye to detect and detest his guilt" (Ps 36:1a).
Like the one who came in weakness we have to listen to his words that say, "Unless you become as little children you cannot enter the kingdom of heaven" (Mt 18:3). In the small and weak body of a baby, or in the crucified Lord of the universe, we have to recognize and proclaim with the psalmist: "Yahweh, your faithful love is in the heavens, your constancy reaches to the clouds, your saving justice is like towering mountains, your judgments like the mighty deep" (Ps 36:5f). God’s mercy has visited us, and visits us still in weakness. Amen.
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