Making (Imperfect) Memories

Home

Eyes On Your Own Nativity

Merry Christmas, Baby

by Gina Loehr in Faith on Sunday, December 25, 2011 12:00 AM

I just can’t help it. Whenever someone says “The Infant Jesus” I immediately picture the dusty porcelain statue of the Infant of Prague with a chip missing from his nose in the back of church.

Robed in a white silk dress, wearing a crown full of fake jewels and holding a baby sized scepter, he is the picture of piety and delicacy. He’s not for cuddling or cooing; he’s not even for touching. He’s just for admiring from afar.

Stale images like this take up too much space in my stifled religious imagination. I have to deliberately work against them as I attempt to meditate on what Christianity, rather who, Christianity is about. Christmas is a time to meditate on a specific phase of Christ’s earthly existence: infancy. And so, the challenge before me is to reflect upon the real infant Jesus, not the one made of glass.

This Advent, I’ve been trying to figure out if my own (real) infant, Lucia Marie, can help me re-cast my image of Jesus. Jesus was a baby after all. Son of God, yes. But son of Mary too. Yet even this train of thought leaves me a little dry. Sure, Lucia never turns down a hug, she’s quick to forgive, and she is utterly dependent. We can make the connections to the Incarnation without too much trouble here—unconditional love, mercy, humility and so on.

But she’s also demanding at times and selfish and willful. Did baby Jesus cry angrily when Mary took choking hazards out of his hands? Did he rebelliously spit his hummus all over her hand when she was teaching him to eat? Frankly, I just can’t picture how freedom-from-the-stain-of-original-sin would look in a six month old.

But, regardless of all that, I believe those of us with babies do have an insight into the true meaning of Christmas. God became not just “man” but baby.

He chose to enter the world as a roly-poly bundle of joy. It’s no wonder a culture which has little use for babies also has little use for (the real meaning of) Christmas. Before I was a mom, I was the subject of subtle cultural brainwashing that informed me how draining it would be to have babies, how burdensome, how expensive, how monotonous and dull. I believed that for all their positive points, babies were ultimately more messy than beautiful, more needy than fun, and more difficult than it was worth. I wasn’t around enough babies. Neither is culture at large.

When we forget the beauty of infancy, we forget the beauty of Incarnation. God likes babies so much that he became one. And when he grew up, he welcomed them. “Let the little children come to me,” big Jesus told the apostles with their adults-only mentality.

Those of us with babies know how precious they are even when they’re not contributing to our programs of efficiency. And we all know how a baby can conjure a smile even in the midst of mischief. Their inherent goodness is too clear to miss.

Christmas is the holy day which gives divine affirmation to the goodness of babies like no other day can. Unlike the Infant of Prague, our children may not always be the picture of piety and delicacy.

But, then again, neither was The Infant Jesus. He was a real baby. This Christmas, let’s allow him to delight us as only a baby can.

—Gina Loehr is the author of three books: Real Women, Real Saints; Choosing Beauty; and The Four Teresas. She currently teaches theology at Marian University in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, where she lives on a 600-acre dairy farm with her husband and three young children.

 Print Blog   Email a Friend   

Post a Comment

By submitting this form, you give Faith And Family Magazine permission to publish this comment. Comments will be published at our discretion, and may be edited for clarity and length. For best formatting, please limit your response to one paragraph and don't hit "enter" to force line breaks.

Making (Imperfect) Memories

Home

Eyes On Your Own Nativity