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Soldier On! w/Leroy Garrett — Occasional Essays |
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Essay 101 (12-19-05) THE OTHER CHRISTMAS This may be the Christmas that our secular world is seeking to displace these days -- "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas." But it may be that the world -- perhaps even the church as well -- has never accepted "the other Christmas." The world and church alike want a Christmas -- or a "holiday" -- of family gatherings, gifts, festivity, and expressions of peace and goodwill. While these are all appropriate, they may have little or nothing to do with the other Christmas -- the biblical account of God taking on human flesh, which theology calls the Incarnation. To put it another way, we don't get the message, not even when we hear it over and over at this time of year. But there was a 16th century Italian painter who got the message, and he put it on canvas, and the painting has made its way onto Christmas cards. When one first looks at Sebastiano Del Piombo's painting it may appear to be a typical Christmas scene of mother and child. Closer examination reveals that the baby Jesus is holding something, and the facial expression of both mother and child indicates that the mother wants to take it from the child while the child resists. The child is holding a goldfinch, a typical pet bird in 16th century Italy, but the painter had more than that in mind. The goldfinch symbolized death. Del Piombo's theology of the Incarnation is more biblical than the usual Christmas perspective. The eternal Word became man in order to give his life as a ransom. The baby Jesus was born to die, even violently. The goldfinch clutched by the infant depicts the Messiah's understanding that he had come to die for the sins of the world. It was his Father's will, and it could not be taken from him, not even by a concerned mother, who was never quite able to understand her own son. Hardly more than we do. We would do well at Christmastime to see in "the little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay" what Sebastiano saw -- confrontation, rejection, betrayal, crucifixion, agonizing suffering, and at last death, even death on a cross. He saw God's humility, depicted by an infant holding fast to the goldfinch. And at last he saw victory, for Gethsemane yielded to Galilee, Friday gave way to Sunday, and the goldfinch was displaced by the dove. The apostle Paul said it all in a poignant poem: "You know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, that you through his poverty might become rich." (2 Cor. 8:9). Riches to poverty. Poverty to riches. That spells grace! And that is the other Christmas, the one that the world cannot -- will not -- see. The biblical Christmas is a grim story. A peasant Jewish girl, probably a teenager, is both frightened and troubled by a sudden angelic visit. She is given a message that overwhelms her, and that she had no way of comprehending. This time it is a young girl clutching a goldfinch. The intruding angel tells her she is to be a mother, even though she was a virgin. She will be impregnated by the Holy Spirit, and her child will be the Son of God. Quite a load for one young girl, however devout. In spite of the mystery and obscurity of it all, she responds to the angel in the humblest way possible, "Behold the handmaid of the Lord! Let it be to me according to your word" (Lk, 1:38). It was the beginning of travail for Mary. She had to suffer the scorn of being pregnant and unmarried. As she grew heavy with child she had to make an incredibly difficult journey of some two weeks from Nazareth to Bethlehem, walking or perhaps riding a mule all those eighty miles. She gave birth in a cave or a barn, with not so much as a midwife there to help her. She herself wrapped the baby in rags she had with her. Animals provided what heat there was. Boistrous crowds -- some drunk, some sleeping in the nooks and corners -- filled the nearby streets. Her child's life was threatened almost from the beginning. To save the child from the wrath of Herod, she was off again on an even longer trip, all the way to Egypt. We may be assured that her situation in Egypt -- which lasted at least several months -- was less than idyllic for a woman with an infant child. Once Herod is dead, she is off again, the long trek of several weeks back home to Nazareth. Motherhood for Mary was not exactly a ball, however otherwise joyous. It is the other Christmas, one not depicted on the cards we send and receive. Simeon's prophesy to Mary concerning her son included: "Yes, a sword will pierce through your own soul also" (Lk, 2:35). It foretold that she was to share his sufferings. It appears that she misunderstood him as much as she loved him. Once Jesus began his ministry and began to preach about a coming kingdom, she apparently joined the rest of the family in supposing that he had "lost his mind" (Mk. 3:20-21). But she was there for him when the bitter end came, even at the foot of the cross (John 19:26), and she is named as part of the believing community following his resurrection (Acts 1:14). Matthew's Christmas story takes a gruesome turn, one that hardly calls for the singing of Jingle Bells. When philosophers from the East, probably Persia or modern Iran, saw a star that indicated to them that a world king had been born, they followed it to Jerusalem where they made inquiry. Herod, who was insanely jealous of any possible challenge to his kingly power, feared the wise men were on to something. He conspired with them to reveal to him who this new born king might be once they had found him. Once foiled by the philosophers, who were "divinely warned in a dream" not to report back to the king, Herod in desperation turned to infanticide, killing all the children in Bethlehem two years old and younger. Jesus, in the meantime, is stolen away to Egypt, escaping Herod's madness. Herod's ghastly deed has been described as "the slaughter of the innocents." Matthew found it so revolting that he could hear Rachel, the ancestress of Israel, crying out from her tomb, weeping for her children, drawing from a prophecy by Jeremiah. Rachel's heart was so broken that she could not be consoled. How chilling! It is the other Christmas -- not exactly the "have yourself a merry little Christmas" that we sing about. Do we get the message? It is the story of "the grace of God has appeared," but not cheap grace. It is a call for discipleship, even radical discipleship.
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