Baby Jesus grows up

Catholic New Times, Jan 4, 2004

John Owen the fanatical chaplain of Oliver Cromwell reed to rid the world of "the Roman varnish on the English religion" and so he proscribed "all such paintings, crossings, crucifixes, bowings, cringings, altars, tapers, wafers, organs, rails, images, capes, vestments." Owen of course would be apoplectic if he were to walk into any Christian church at Christmas where he would see the flowering of the Catholic principle of sacramentality--smells of fir trees, incense, glorious music--all of which as theologian Richard McBrien says, sees "the divine in the human, the infinite in the finite, the spiritual in the material, the transcendent in the immanent, the eternal in the historical."

It is the faces of humanity that are the reminder that Christmas is about incarnation, God's perennial invasion of history.

For us Christians, it is in the life of the God-drenched, wandering Jew of the first century who invites us to be as open as he was to the holy presence all around us.

The invitation now is to move beyond our limiting tribalism towards a new identity, one that is beyond all human prejudices, those based on race, gender, culture, sexual orientation and even religious denomination. Humility, above all, must constantly remind us that our God, even the Baby God of Christmas, may be too small.

The incarnation grasped in our own small tent must lead us beyond our own pope, imam, rabbi and bible to the God beyond all denominational and exclusive limits, to the God who demands radical solidarity with humanity and the earth. We are challenged to move beyond the kitsch of Christmas--the tinsel, plastic trees, canned musk in the mall, and sitting on Santa's knee--to grasp the fact that Canadians will spend on an average $1,100 each on gifts and seasonal celebrations, when as a nation our foreign aid to the desperately poor is embarrassingly low.

Still, even the deformations of the celebration of incarnation when looked at sympathetically show that we are hard-wired for generosity. Christmas calls on us to revel in the celebration of our fleshiness, our senses, our five glorious ways into a creation too marvelous and holy for words. It is also a reminder that we need to live it up as only we incarnates can.

We know that 'living it up' is a merchant shell game which begins in early November with "Deck the Halls" and "Here Comes Santa Claus" in Walmart. But we seemingly have not fully grasped that for Christians, Christmas is not about baby Jesus. The birth stories of Matthew and Luke are for adults. And shock of all shocks, the baby grows up. The Prince of Peace hasn't been in a cradle for over 2,000 turbulent years, but we insist on an ox, a lamb and a little drummer boy. We are a little uncomfortable with the righteous anger and the flashing dark eyes as the angry Galilean drives the money changers from the Temple. But what parent wants to keep the newborn a baby forever? What does this say about us the parents? Babies of course can be controlled. They do not pose a threat to us: as a matter of fact, they sleep most of the time.

Johann Baptist Metz reminds us that every page of the New Testament must be seen under the horizon of danger. Christians in the West need to understand this anew. The baby leaves the crib, proclaims a kingdom, one which relativizes all the empires of this world which are built on the suffering of half of the family and the over-development of the other half.

God's reign rejects the obscene squandering of wealth for military purposes and pennies for the poor. This kingdom got its proclaimer murdered. The system said "No" to this Jesus, and it still does. It is however our deepest belief that God said Yes to Jesus and his vision.

Both Advent and Christmas ask: which Jesus are we preparing for? Unless the church gives fleshy witness to the liberating yet dangerous message, it will remain in a comfortable and irrelevant crib.