What Child Is This?
By Bishop Brian Maas
Welcome to Advent. Welcome to
waiting. Welcome to anticipating a mystery.
The mystery is posed, “What child
is this who, laid to rest on Mary’s lap, is sleeping?”
The hymn does not solve the
mystery but declares it. This babe is Christ the King and the son of Mary. My fear—my own experience—is that we veer to
one or the other. He is the Christ King, divine and distant, or the baby, the
feel-good gooey center of all that means Christmas to our memory, our senses,
our feelings. We veer to one or the other and forget the powerful mystery, the and that ties them both together.
To be people of faith is to cling
to, to live in the and. Our Advent
waiting is not for the opportunity to practice a hollow holiness that insists
that “Jesus is the reason for the season” or manufactures offense that someone
would wish “Happy Holidays” rather than “Merry Christmas.”
Nor do we await merely the ooh-ing
and aah-ing of a candlelight worship with all the familiar carols of the Babe
of Bethlehem and the comfort of customs tied to the celebration of his birth.
No, as disciples of Jesus Christ,
we await, we seek Him in the and of
every child—regardless of age—knowing that in real people we experience the
potent and of His incarnation. His
becoming flesh and blood, vulnerable and loving, is not restricted to that
memorable manger of millennia ago. He becomes flesh and blood, vulnerable and
loving, daily in the people who fill our lives.
Whom do we await? What Child is
this?
This Child is the one who hungers
in a land of plenty, who dreads Sunday nights because the pain of an empty
belly makes real sleep impossible. Who needs a food-filled backpack to get
through the weekend, to make learning possible.
This Child is the lonely elder,
bereft of family and material resources, despairing in an uncertain future. Who
needs housing and healthcare and hope.
This Child is the one who grows up
without faith, whose soul nonetheless stirs with a longing for something that
substances and stuff can’t satisfy. Who awaits the invitation to find faith at
a camp, a campus, a congregation.
This Child is the refugee,
homeless and fearful, separated from parents and detained in a foreign place.
Who needs an advocate and a companion.
This Child is the one whose
special needs could mean a life of institutionalization, pity and dependence.
Who longs for independence and dignity.
This Child is the addict, the
impoverished, the irresponsible, the unlovable, the Other. Who longs to be seen
as more than mere circumstances and choices.
This, this is Christ the King, who shepherds guard, whom angels sing, who
crosses our paths daily and awaits the ministry of our church and of our
individual compassion, care and welcome.
Until we recognize this, until we see the and of
Jesus, baby and King, made flesh in all others, our carols are discordant, our
greetings are empty and our gifts are beautifully wrapped hypocrisy.
But.
We have an invitation daily to see
Jesus, to be met by him, to practice our faith and engage him—not because we
ought or should or must, but because we can.
And because in so doing we will know more fully his gift of life as he intends
it, in all its meaning, freedom and joy.
This Child is Jesus Christ, who
waits to meet us. Today.
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