PEACE
I cut the tape on the cardboard box and open the lid. Memories of a trip to Israel come to mind. The Nativity Scene was made by Palestinian olive-wood carvers in Bethlehem. I let my little granddaughter peel away the tissue paper from the smallest piece, the baby Jesus in a manger. His arms are open wide, a gesture that reminds me how Jesus wants to welcome me into his presence.
“Where’s his blanket?” asks Monica, “He’s getting cold! Why doesn’t his mommy cuddle him?”
Good questions! Where were his blankets? First century babies were swaddled in soft cloths that were held in place with ribbons of cloth.
Monica runs off to find the perfect scrap of fleece from my oddments bin. In my imagination I quietly enter the stable. I close the door gently behind me to keep out the draughts.
I see Jesus nuzzling his nose into Mary’s warm breast, his mouth searching. And,after several frustrating attempts, he latches on, relaxes and drinks life-giving milk. Mary and Joseph no longer glance around at their inadequate surroundings, wishing they were back at their little house in Nazareth, because Jesus nestles contentedly in his mother’s arms and absorbs all their loving attention. His trust in Mary and Joseph to take care of all his needs is implicit. He sleeps. Mary and Joseph relax, content because Jesus is at peace.
We were all the same at birth. We trusted and we slept. We are all the same as parents. We are at peace when our baby is content.
Much later, Jesus was tormented with emotional anguish. He dreaded what was ahead of him and he was undecided. He could have escaped his captors. He had slipped through them before. For him it would not have been difficult.
Instead he prayed about his indecision, and an angel came and gave him strength.
The strength Jesus received is evident. He asked his Father to forgive those who were perpetrating hate because they did not know what they were doing. Then he turned to his friend John and his mother, and gave them to each other as mother and son. Jesus’ trust in his heavenly Father overrides the terrible pain of his ordeal.
We are all the same when facing an anguishing decision. Our spirit is weak, hurt, and fragile and so we pray. God, our heavenly Father sends an angel to strengthen us. We are able to continue living and acting in a way that reflects the Spirit of God who lives within us. We remain true to ourselves and to the One who created us.
Monica runs back into the room, jolting me back from my reverie. She has found a square of bright blue fleece and a white cotton handkerchief and she snuggles Baby Jesus in them. He no longer fits into the nicely carved manger so she nestles him close to Mary and Joseph. She knows what is good and right. Contentedly, we sit together on the sofa, pull a soft blanket over us and settle down for a story.
