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News and Ideas from around the Anglican World |
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December 2007
WHAT CHILD IS THIS? Unto you is born this day a Saviour...You shall find the babe lying in a manger.
by Catherine Edward
Each year at Christmas we contemplate with great awe, the mystery, in all its beauty and enormity, of the Messiah in a manger. The image of the holy baby cradled in his mother’s arms, so peaceful amidst the most humble of surroundings, has been portrayed countless times by the world’s greatest artists. We are challenged by a picture that so little agrees with our human notions of what ought to be. Even as we are all captivated and charmed by that tiny baby lying so contentedly on the straw, we still struggle to comprehend the sheer scale of the mystery the artists hold before us.
Again and again, Christmas by Christmas, we ponder, as must the shepherds and wise men have pondered, who this baby was.
True answers to any genuine mystery must await their revelations. The extraordinary identity of the babe in the manger was revealed by the words of His own mouth and the activity of His own body after He grew up. Perhaps the most sweeping and powerful summary of the identity He claimed and proved for Himself is found at the opening of the fourth Gospel: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God... and the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us.
The baby was God.
Beginning with this statement, breathtaking in its simplicity, we begin to follow the trail of answers to the great Christian mystery. God Himself has graciously provided the answers. The trail is nevertheless a daunting one to follow.
From St. John we learn that this baby is the Word of God. He has been with God always. He made all things. Without Him was not anything made that was made. Here, in this baby, is the very expression of the mind of God and of his creating will and power.
In this baby was Life. From Him the mysterious essence that courses through our veins, quickens our cells, illuminates our faces, drives our pulses, enthrals our spirits: It is He that hath made us and not we ourselves (Ps.100:2).
The power of life itself packaged so small, so humbly. The mind reels. And yes, it fits. We discern a pattern in the things of God in which the inside is infinitely greater than the outside. An acorn contains the power to establish all the oak forests the world could ever hold. And we find a most intriguing clue is Christ’s comparison of the kingdom of heaven to a Palestinian mustard seed: “From the tiniest of all seeds grew an herb the size of a small tree” (Matt 13:31).
Might we believe then, that within the tiny baby in the Bethlehem manger is the Seed of all life, that veiled in Him is the power, the Mind that made the universe? Certainly when He grew up, the baby indicated this was so. He gave occasional quiet demonstrations that were stunning revelations to His followers that here indeed was the true Master of the universe. His authority over a violent storm left them trembling. We quake.
Yet, the Master of the universe, the God of all creation, arrives as a tiny baby. Why? What better way for Love to visit us? For do we truly trust any love that does not utterly empty itself of its own mighty self in complete devotion for the beloved? Are we really surprised that Love might veil itself as a baby in a manger when Love has been wounded by the misery of the beloved (me, you, all of us) who-- wilful, selfish, careless of Love’s call--have gone astray? So Love comes hunting the only way it can come. So silently, so softly, so empty of itself, so still, so... available. What is more “available” to our hearts than a baby?
We, children of God, who have gone astray are visited by the Word of Love Himself whose soft pleading call echoes through all the world: Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden and I will refresh you (Matt 11:28).
If we answer the call, what then? Another mystery, wonderful and mighty. Within the tiny body of this baby is the vessel, the true ark that bears any Child of God, who answers His call, safely across the death flood of self-seeking human folly into the waiting arms of the Father. How can we know this? Because a certain hardened criminal, a crucified thief, was whisked away from Death to Life by the Word of Life speaking from His own cross: Today shalt thou be with me in paradise (Luke 23:43).
That Word of Life is here. The baby is in our midst. Mine and yours. He has come to make in each of us--who will take Him up in our arms--new and contrite hearts, hearts that pulse with the life of Love’s own power.
Thanks be to God! Joy to the World! Catherine Edward is a writer who lives in rural Prince Edward Island with her husband, Michael. They have three married children and are expecting their sixth grandchild in February.
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Copyright The Anglican Planet © 2007 |