The day approaches, and we approach the day. How’s your trek going so far?
There’s all the stuff of the season, of course (you have your own list of to-dos done and undone), but for us Christians, it comes down to how we approach the lowly, holy approach of God. Here is what we claim: Born quietly into one small corner of humanity, Jesus the Christ embraces all humanity, speaking words of grace, revealing divine truth, befriending the friendless, and, oh yeah, shaking the foundations of the world and the assumptions that govern our lives. What was it the angel said? “You’ll find the humble radical forgiving healing destroyer of death and evil wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” Something like that. How do we begin to approach such strange good (or bad) news?
Wisely, the church made a season of it, this approach to Christmas. Take a step and ask: What do we need this year? Take another step: What do we think we need that we don’t really need at all? And another: What do we need to shed to receive what we need? And another: Well, never mind. Just approach. Approaching a baby is a lot like approaching God. Adoration precedes any requests we might have.
As we approach, we gather some promises. This baby brings hope, peace, joy, love. This baby is strong enough to embrace us all. This baby hates our hatred and loves us still. This baby embodies the power of creation. This baby is as weak as any baby and as powerful as God. This baby is life.
There is an image making the rounds of a nativity scene in the West Bank. The baby Jesus lies in a pile of rubble. This is the nativity we approach this year and, really, every year—Christ born into the wreckage of our violence, into our bluster-birthing fears, into our self-righteousness, self-worship and self-hatred, into all our questions and wrong answers. The prophets proclaim his advent; the heavenly hosts sing his glory; a baby stirs.
Upon a throne of wood and straw lies the one who is love divine, powerful and saving. We approach with more questions than answers perhaps, with exhaustion that suspects futility, and with adoration and hope. We approach because God has approached us. We stand in the rubble, before the throne. The baby will grow in wisdom and truth; he will walk into the world with healing and grace; and he will call us to follow.
In Christ,
Mark