For a number of years - I don't know how many - my relationship with God has been shaped by the baby Jesus, the Cross, and the Virgin Mary. Mine is not intimacy with a triumphal God, nor am I attracted to what is called the power of the Lord. Rather, my connection is quiet. Small. Like Luther speaking about how God comes to us at Christmas:Why is God found In the little baby Jesus? Why not in a sensual experience, In a stunning star-filled winter’s sky? In a fresh layer of perfect snow? In the massive power of a blizzard, That strands everyone Where they are at, For days? The answer really, Is simple: God is found In the little baby Jesus, So that He does not Frighten us away With His appearance Among us.
You remember What happened, When God appeared On Mt. Sinai, Or when the prophet Isaiah Beheld God in a vision, Or when the other prophets Encountered God In similar fashion: It was a terrifying, Horrifying, A simply awe-filled, Experience in which death Certainly seem imminent. Who would ever turn to, Such an all-powerful God, Who so terrified us, With His very presence?
Who would seek out a God, Whose very holiness, Would cause us to instantly Suffer revulsion at our own sin? Who would attempt to approach A God who seems to be nothing, but death and destruction? No one... so this is what God Would have us do. He would have us, Approach His Son, Jesus Christ In faith, Just like we approach A little tiny baby, Not with fear, Not with anguish, Not with trepidation, But with confidence, And boldness, Knowing That we will indeed Be accepted By Jesus, And being accepted by Jesus, Be accepted By our Father in Heaven. (Martin Luther, Christmas Sermon, 1521 @ https:/ /infanttheology.wordpress.com/2014/01/08/god-is-found-in-the-little-baby-jesus-so-that-he-does-not-frighten-us-away-with-his-appearance-among-us-from-my-pastors-christmas-day-sermon/)
I came across this sermon at the close of Douglas John Hall's book, The Cross in our Context. It resonated with my heart. Much like the hymns "Love Came Down at Christmas" (poem by Christina Rossetti, 1885) or "In the Bleak Midwinter" (Rossetti, 1872) the essence of this mystical connection rests in tenderness: tenderness as the heart of God, tenderness as my greatest desire, tenderness as my calling. Small wonder I continue to be drawn to L'Arche. As Jean Vanier puts it: ""How does Jesus want us to imitate him? Jesus is asking us to follow him on a path of littleness, forgiveness, trust, communion and vulnerability."No crashing cymbals or blaring trumpets, no illusions of power or glory, no puffed up titles or exaggerated heroics: just simple, quiet acts of tenderness.
I cherish the way Peterson rephrases the words of St. Paul in I Corinthians 13: If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love, I’m nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. If I speak God’s Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, “Jump,” and it jumps, but I don’t love, I’m nothing. If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love.
Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.
Love doesn’t strut,
Doesn’t have a swelled head,
Doesn’t force itself on others,
Isn’t always “me first,”
Doesn’t fly off the handle,
Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn’t revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.
I read these words over and over. Same with Psalm 131:
O LORD, I am not proud; I have no haughty looks. I do not occupy myself with great matters, or with things that are too hard for me. But I still my soul and make it quiet, like a child upon its mother's breast; my soul is quieted within me. O Israel, wait upon the LORD, from this time forth for evermore.
And let's not forget Matthew 11: 20/28-30: At that time Jesus said, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants...so come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.
Vanier explains some of this in a helpful way: it is the foolishness of Christ. It is a connection to the wisdom of God that "is not like human wisdom... for my ways are not your ways says the Lord." (Isaiah 55) I read an interview with Vanier yesterday that put it like this when asked about his life's work: "I had to move from generosity to communion."
I know that tension - and little by little I am learning to face it, own it, even accept it. There's that word, little, again: little like a mustard seed, little like yeast, little like a child. The Cross and the Virgin Mary evoke other aspects of littleness, too. I think of the hymn, "When I Survey the Wondrous Cross" that celebrates the wisdom of Abelard over Anselm - or pray with my eyes using an icon of the Theotokos of Vladimir - the tenderness of God nourishes me more than anything else. My prayer most days is equally small: Holy God, Holy and Mighty, Holy Immortal One: have mercy upon us.
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