Some years ago I suddenly understood something of why God almighty had made the move of being born as an infant child.
It was when a dear friend and I visited the friend’s niece in California. The niece was living with a man to whom she was not married, in a neighborhood that seemed quite OK even though it was just a few blocks from San Quentin Prison. The two were not sure they would ever get married or even stay together.
But they had a child.
The sadder part of this story is that their infant boy had suffered a difficult birth and had been deprived of oxygen during parts of it. He was a well-formed, beautiful newborn, except for one thing: he had severe brain damage and could do nothing whatsoever on his own, including breathe.
The young mother told us that they could easily have let him slip away in the birthing room. No reason to make the poor thing suffer. But she said they could not abandon him, could not just write off this tiny personality and "get on with" their own lives. They were struck with great love for the tender, fleeting, sweet soul that had issued from them.
So they began all the care it took to keep him alive. They named him, baptized him, and took him home. They set up a machine for him that drew in his air and let it out.
Over his life of six months or so, one of the parents had to remain close enough to hear even the tiniest change of tone in the breathing. So they traded off: one would go out for a walk while the other lingered with the tiny little life. The other would shop and tend to necessities while the remaining one bore loving duty at home. As we spoke, I saw that they were calm, not terrified, not burdened. They knew death was on the way, no escaping it, but they loved the completely helpless child anyway.
There came over me the quiet understanding that I was in a holy place. I could feel it. Something was gently, quietly holding us all with an embrace that was not a grasping, but a loving caress, given for the sake of all of us. Other visitors had told the mother something similar: they felt a message coming back from the boy, a love emanating from him. A presence of God was softly, strongly in that home.
This infant's passage through life showed with mysterious clarity how love and human life are meant for each other. And that is when I saw it. Mary and Joseph had loved the Jesus child in the same way. They knew the glow of holiness that had come upon their tiny family. They knew that this sweet soul would show the world what love is. That is the meaning of Christmas
The rest of the story? Well, the little spark of a child in California did die, after his short months. His parents did in fact get married, having learned to love each other in the midst of the care they gave and received. They have birthed a healthy baby girl since then. Clearly, their infant boy’s tiny flicker of a life had made them able to love.
Maybe you and I can feel the Christmas story the same way they did.
