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“How dare you mention death—at Christmas?” The indignation at the lyric “Welcoming in love’s surrender death’s dark shadow at his creche” in my Christmas hymn (“In the Darkness Shines the Splendour”) was palpable.
Therein, however, lies the mystery of Christmas. “God... almighty... maker of heaven and earth, of all things visible and invisible” renounces Godliness for our flesh: flesh that is thrust out of a mother’s womb, that suckles a mother’s breast, that pees and poops. Whose cells divide and grow, and whose heart expands in wisdom and understanding. Who learns a trade and accepts a mission. Who embraces human messiness and sinfulness. And then-—like every one of us—who dies. To this self-emptying, God’s loving response is to raise Jesus on high.
My mind and my heart boggle at the depth and breadth of this mystery. HOW. COULD. GOD. BE. SO. LIKE. ME? LIKE. YOU? SO ONE OF US? In response, I can only cradle our God and join the angels and shepherds in praise and thanks for grace upon grace.