The Hidden Jesus
In the neighborhoods around my house, most people
don’t go all out with the Christmas decorations. Along my street many of the houses have a
wreath and maybe some candles in the windows, or a few strings of white lights
wrapped around the evergreen shrubs.
With the snow on the branches and the lights sparkling, it is always
quite beautiful. And very tasteful and
elegant – not much in the way of reindeer balancing on pitched roofs or windows
outlined in multi-colored running lights. People don’t drive down our street to
look at over-the-top Christmas decorations!
There is one house on my street, though, that did
not get the memo! The little front yard is crammed with just about every
plastic figure you can imagine. There is a seesaw with two penguins on
it, going up and down, next to a little polar bear. There is an inflatable snow
globe with things going around inside. There are reindeer and a
sleigh. There is an illuminated plastic nativity scene, with a giant
blow-up Santa and a snowman looming over Mary and Joseph and the Baby, and the
wise men bear their gifts lined up by the sidewalk, next to a row of lighted
candy canes.
Some people, I suppose, might find this display on
the tacky side. And some people might think it is inappropriate to plop
the baby Jesus down in the midst of the penguins and the elves and the Santa
Claus. (And what do penguins have to do with Christmas anyway? Don’t they live at the South Pole?) And the baby who should be at the heart of it
all is almost hidden, barely noticeable, surrounded as he is by all those other
figures and decorations that have nothing to do with the story of Christmas –
at least the one recorded in the Bible.
I’ve decided, though, that this display is just
right. After all, that is just how Jesus
came to us. He was plopped down into the
world with all kinds of inappropriate things going on around him. Most of
what was happening in and around Bethlehem had nothing to do with God’s reign –
it was all about Caesar’s reign. And there was nothing tasteful and elegant about
his birth. He was conceived outside of wedlock; he was born in a stable
full of mess and manure; he was visited by the poorest of the poor, the
shepherds.
Jesus was just one of many, another child born in a
difficult situation to a young woman, a child destined to grow up and live a
life of poverty. Who in the world would
pay attention to a poor baby, born of poor parents, in a poor country? There was no reason this birth should have
been noticed at all, let alone become a story told over and over again in times
and places very far removed from that stable, including here.
It makes me wonder:
Why would God choose to be revealed in such a hidden way? Wouldn’t it be better if God were easier to
recognize? After all, we wouldn’t be
likely to miss God if God came to us as a voice from a burning bush, would
we? Or as God did to the people standing
on the banks of the Red Sea waiting for the waters to part? Or in fire and smoke and sacred words on a
holy mountain? But even those people,
God’s chosen ones, often missed God’s presence.
Even in the promised land, they continued to wait and hope for God to be
revealed, for God to come and rescue them again, to give them safety and
freedom. They understood through the
prophets that God would send a savior, the Messiah. In a time of war and
upheaval, the saving word of God that came through Isaiah to the people must
have seemed strange news:
“For a child has been born for us, a son given to
us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor,
Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. His authority shall grow
continually, and there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his
kingdom. He will establish and uphold it with justice and with righteousness
from this time onward and forevermore. The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do
this.”
They were hoping for a mighty army, and instead they
got a baby. They were hoping for
military victory and instead they were promised peace, a peace that would need
the same kind of care and tending that a newborn needs.
And all that was long ago, and where is that promise
of peace now? If this Child has been
born – and we do believe that -- then why isn’t there endless peace now? Why is the world still filled with
injustice? Where is righteousness? Where is the child who will save us?
________
One year and ten days ago near where I live in
Connecticut, twenty boys and girls and seven women were murdered by a young man
– almost a child himself and certainly a lost and troubled soul. In the aftermath of this tragedy, it has
sometimes been hard to understand where God is, to know the presence of the
savior. It has seemed sometimes that
evil and destruction might win out. But
then God speaks in the words of the mother of Ana Grace, one of the children
who was killed, and she recalls setting up a table with candles to light for
those who died that day, and she says:
"Do we have a table with 26 candles (one for each of the children and teachers), or do we have a table with 28? We put 28, because at the end of the day, it's a gesture of the compassion that we need to move forward."
And so the mother of a murdered child lights a
candle for the murderer and his mother. And
suddenly, in words that are both simple and stunning, the hidden Jesus is
revealed. God is present. And the power of peace overcomes everything
else. The families of the women and children who were killed at Sandy Hook have
asked that people honor the memory of their precious ones by paying it forward
– by doing something kind and compassionate and generous and loving for someone
else. It is a lesson that we have to
learn over and over again, this lesson in compassion. It is a lesson that the memories of those
precious children of Newtown teach us. It is a lesson that the precious child
of Bethlehem teaches us: “Love one
another as I have loved you.”
________
Last year, we had a huge snow after Christmas – more
than four feet in some places. The Christmas
display in my neighbor’s yard was buried under the white stuff. Only the top of the big Santa and the crowns
of the wise men were visible. As the
weather softened in the weeks after the snow, bits and pieces of other figures
emerged. But the Baby, low and small, was
the last to be uncovered. It took a big
thaw to reveal the hidden Jesus who had been there all along. I think that is a kind of parable for
us. There is a hidden Jesus always
present, but the storms of life have piled up so much stuff that we no longer
notice him. There is a hidden Jesus in
us, but we have to thaw out our frozen hearts, let our busyness and sinfulness
and distraction melt away, in order for him to be revealed. He is here all
along. And the way of life he intends for us – the time of endless peace and
justice and righteousness – is present now, also waiting to be revealed. He
himself reminded us this when he said: "The kingdom of heaven is within you."
At Christmas, we celebrate the birth of Jesus – with
bright lights and candy canes or elegant wreaths and candles, with gifts for
those we love or random acts of kindness for total strangers, with treasured
manger scenes or plastic ones displayed in the yard. And may our celebrations continue through the
days and weeks and years to come, so we come to reveal with our own lives the
hidden Jesus who is in our midst. Let us
be reminded that Christ is still present in our less-than-perfect world, amidst
the tacky displays of our lives, in the places where we least expect it.
Christ is present!
© Martha C. Highsmith
