Possibility: A Christmas Eve Reflection
One of my favorite musicians, Bonnie “Prince” Billy is a relatively new father, and many of his songs lately have to do with his young daughter and parenthood— in one of these songs, he warbles, “Able to see it all through someone smaller… Embrace her and do your darndest to enthrall her/ resolve not to hinder the bold arc of her will.” As the parent of a year-and-a-half-old, those lines have really stayed with me, I think of them often. It’s such a joy to see the world the way my daughter Frankie sees the world—giggling and pointing with awe at a flock of turkeys outside, rather than being annoyed they’re blocking the road; the excitement she has when we give her sips of our “spicy water,” our seltzer, when she feels the bubbles on her tongue… it makes the mundane fun again, it makes so much we take for granted seem brand new.
Tonight, Jesus comes to us in the form of an infant— an infant who, despite his divinity, is rooted in this earth, was rooted in Mary’s womb, and will experience all that same joy and wonder and awe as any other little child will. Often in my sermons, I talk about the humanity of Jesus, the fact that he knows all of our grief and our sorrows, and so we are never alone in those dark times… but the humanity of Jesus also includes his birth and his childhood. Which means the humanity of Jesus includes this awe and this wonder, this sense of real possibility. The humanity of Jesus includes the joy and innocence of childhood.
Throughout this season of Advent, and now going into Christmas, I’ve been pushing against cynicism; pushing against the temptation to assume the worst, to assume there is little good left in the world. This past Sunday, I preached about Mary and her courage, not letting the fact that she was unwed and pregnant at a time when that wasn’t okay (to put it lightly), stop her from believing that what was happening to her was a blessing, was something that would change the world, because she needed to believe that to survive. I talked about putting ourselves in her place, in the place of those who aren’t in a position not to believe or be cynical, who have to believe in something greater than themselves, who have to believe in what seems impossible, to keep going in this harsh life.
But tonight I’m asking us all to put ourselves in the place of a child—full of awe and love and wonder and possibility; not yet jaded by the world, not ceding what little hope and power we have to those who would keep us down to keep their own. Little children aren’t capable of cynicism… imagine a world without cynicism… a world in which we really believe in the good of one another, in the good of each and every one of our fellow humans. Imagine a world where nothing is taken for granted, where everything feels like a brand new miracle—this is the promise of Christmas.
As much as I try to teach my daughter good boundaries and gentle hands when it comes to our pets at home, I can’t help but smile at and admire her naiveté and happiness in spite of our cat’s hisses. When she pets one of our cats and he takes a little warning swipe at her and walks away, she giggles and toddles after him, full of absolutely unconditional love for this furry creature despite his… ambivalence towards her. That is the kind of joyful will I don’t want to hinder; that is the kind of happiness and love I hope and pray can stay with her her whole life, no matter what this world might throw at her. And I believe we would all be better off if we allowed ourselves to be a little more childlike in our love for one another, in our love for their planet and every creature on it.
The late theologian Jurgen Moltmann writes of Jesus coming to earth as a lowly human child:
The kingdom of peace comes through a child, and liberation is bestowed on the people who become as children…
A child is defenseless. A child is innocent. A child is the beginning of new life. His defenselessness makes our armaments superfluous. We can put away rifles and open our clenched fists. His innocence redeems us…We no longer have to go on like this. As his birth opens up for us the future of a life in peace…
Let us become like children. Full of awe, full of love, full of a bold and joyful will, even in the face of war abroad and violence at home... even in the face of hissing cats. Let us become like children, seeing this world as something brand new—seeing a world full of possibility, full of goodness… a world in which that Christmas promise is fulfilled. Amen.