On Mondays, my wife and I visit a friend of ours who's suffering from a host of cancers. He's in stage four, so he's just about lost all his hair from radiation. It was really hard to see him in that state at first, because I wasn't sure what to expect. He can't walk anymore because the surgery on the tumors dotting his spine left him paralyzed. But each time we go visit, it feels more normal than the last - like we're seeing our friend less through the lens of cancer and fear, and more through the lens of . . . friendship.
I'm worried about him not getting out for Christmas. I worry that he will sit in the hospital lonely, depressed, and withdrawn from any sort of community life. I'm gonna want to race up to the hospital, find him, wheel him out, and take him to the family get together so he can have a sense of fellowship and family. I don't know if this is realistic though. I'm gonna try.
It seems like every Christmas has a tragedy running parallel with it. I have to admit that when I think about the different people in my life who are suffering, and then think about all the songs and cards and presents and services and joy and smiles and eggnog and cookies, I get a little resentful. Actually, I get a lot resentful. And so, I try my best not to delve into that paradigm.
But, I'm gonna delve into it now.
What does the birth of Jesus mean to those who are suffering here and now?
I find it hard to believe that besides close, immediate family, anyone was present for the birth of Jesus. For anyone working the fields on that night (or day), it would've been business as usual. The birth of Jesus for them would've been like seeing on Facebook that a baby you didn't know was born today to a woman you didn't know either.
The writers of the Jesus narrative weren't present for this birth. Caesar wasn't there and wasn't threatened. Shepherds didn't flock. Angels didn't sing. A divine light didn't guide anyone to this feeding trough-turned crib. The wise men (or astronomers at the time) wouldn't have been interested.
Take away all the glamour, spin, and spiritual elevation, and you have a lowly couple who are trying to figure out how the hell they're gonna take care of a newborn baby. Obviously, anyone who's pregnant will have done some planning as well, so there's no doubt in my mind that Mary and Joseph had sat down way before this night and planned out how they were gonna take care of this baby.
Like any couple with a baby on the way, they were scared. They knew they didn't have much, and were afraid of how they would provide for another member of the family.
They didn't have a community gathered round them to help offset the expenses of diapers and formula and all the other necessities that come with having a baby. They were doing it alone. It wasn't until the stories were written decades later that supporting characters were created to give the reader the communal feel.
Mary, Joseph, and the newborn.
Hardly anything to eat.
No one to share the news with.
Fearful of how things were gonna turn out.
Not to mention, the ruler at the time despised Jews, and, Mary and Joseph were Jewish. It was rumored (although no proof has been found) that around the time of Jesus' birth, Herod sent out a decree that every boy two years of age and under be murdered. Sounds familiar to a much earlier story of a Jesus-type birth (Moses and the Israelite nemesis Pharoah).
While it's easy to get caught up in the euphoria of the birth narrative, we have to remember that what we read when we read the Christmas story wasn't real time. It was written way after the fact. It wasn't as Pollyanna as the writers make it seem. It wasn't as hopeful as the writers created it to be. It wasn't as painless as the authors built it up to be.
The birth of Jesus was, if anything, the normal plight of the poor.
Without access to adequate healthcare, they made it work the best they could.
With no money, they weren't able to buy the nice crib from the local carpenter.
With no community, they weren't able to get sitters anytime they needed.
With no groceries, they weren't able to provide the best organic food for the baby.
With all the stress, Mary probably had problems breast-feeding and sleeping.
The baby probably didn't sleep well since it didn't have all the toys that rich babies had.
And so, what was it that gave this poor couple hope? What was it that pulled them through, that helped them to see past the current struggle?
As you see with any couple with a baby on the way, there's no amount of struggle that can snuff out the joy and excitement of a newborn. Everything fades away. All attention turns to the little being that's squirming around the wife's belly.
There's hope of the opportunity to take an unformed, innocent, pure being, and nurture, care, and raise it up to make an impact on the world.
And Mary and Joseph had no idea who they were raising. They had no idea they were raising a kid that would eventually change the whole world forever. They had no idea they were raising a kid that would eventually die as a threat to the Roman consul. They had grandiose ambitions for the kid, just like any parent would, and that was enough to fuel them and give them hope amidst the circumstances.
And so, what does the birth of Jesus mean to those suffering here and now?
For Mary and Joseph, it gave them a chance to get out of themselves. It gave them a chance to focus on someone else, something else for a change. It gave them a chance to pour all their energy into helping create something beautiful together.
And the same can be said for us. The birth of Jesus is a reminder that whatever our circumstances, whatever our current suffering may entail, that we still have the opportunity to create something beautiful. We still have the opportunity to tap into the hope that comes out of pouring our energies into something other than ourselves.
I'm wondering if my wife and I should come up with a creative idea to do with our friend.
Maybe we can create something together, with him. Maybe it'll help us pour our energies into something other than our current sufferings. Maybe, in the process of creating, we'll discover something hopeful and beautiful even though the cancer's still a reality. Maybe, we'll tap into something that will turn out to be larger than life.
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