Christmas morning, grey and rainy, the temperature around 10 degrees C., no traffic on the road, no sound. On this day Christians remember the birth of special person many years ago. At the center of the story, a baby, then around about, the parents, then domestic animals, then working men, then visiting dignitaries. Encompassing all, the structures of power that count, control and brook no opposition.
There are angels in this story also, lots of them singing 'peace on earth,' and pointing to the birth as a sign of God's 'good will to men.'
This story is far from incompatible with your purposes, God-in-love, but what to make of it? The creche is touching scene, but where does it go? Some years later the baby, once a man, will have things to say and do, but as baby, simply a vulnerable, helpless being at the center of strange and unstable situation.
I remember seeing my own children, my grandchild, other children, each one special. How wonderful to feel the heft of, to smell the scent of, to feel the warmth of these feebly active beings.The drama was this: could I provide for, care for this being in my charge such that the potential minute by minute being realized in it, had a chance to reach fruition. My grandson coming tomorrow is running, talking, manipulating, playing. Our care has moved into a new phase.
The book by P.D. James and the movie made of it The Children of Men is one whose premise cannot even think about without feeling a constriction in my throat: a world without human births, without human children. The one birth in the story is has the power of unlocked door to someone in a cell.
Of course, there are lots of children born to us these days, but not everywhere. Even where birth rates are low, attitudes and circumstances conspire to make children specially burdensome and unwelcome. Yet, for you, God-in-love, each baby has significance as a participant in your Beloved Other coming into being, and already here. With each child, you look forward to life-long romance of hospitality, friendship, exploration, and with none, some say, more than with this baby at the heart of Christmas.
Now, the weather has changed. The sun is out and warm upon the cheek. The breeze mild and inviting. Water is flowing down each gully and swale. Winter has just begun, and this is a confusing but welcome harbinger. I welcome each new person as a fellow participant in this adventure of love.
There are angels in this story also, lots of them singing 'peace on earth,' and pointing to the birth as a sign of God's 'good will to men.'
This story is far from incompatible with your purposes, God-in-love, but what to make of it? The creche is touching scene, but where does it go? Some years later the baby, once a man, will have things to say and do, but as baby, simply a vulnerable, helpless being at the center of strange and unstable situation.
I remember seeing my own children, my grandchild, other children, each one special. How wonderful to feel the heft of, to smell the scent of, to feel the warmth of these feebly active beings.The drama was this: could I provide for, care for this being in my charge such that the potential minute by minute being realized in it, had a chance to reach fruition. My grandson coming tomorrow is running, talking, manipulating, playing. Our care has moved into a new phase.
The book by P.D. James and the movie made of it The Children of Men is one whose premise cannot even think about without feeling a constriction in my throat: a world without human births, without human children. The one birth in the story is has the power of unlocked door to someone in a cell.
Of course, there are lots of children born to us these days, but not everywhere. Even where birth rates are low, attitudes and circumstances conspire to make children specially burdensome and unwelcome. Yet, for you, God-in-love, each baby has significance as a participant in your Beloved Other coming into being, and already here. With each child, you look forward to life-long romance of hospitality, friendship, exploration, and with none, some say, more than with this baby at the heart of Christmas.
Now, the weather has changed. The sun is out and warm upon the cheek. The breeze mild and inviting. Water is flowing down each gully and swale. Winter has just begun, and this is a confusing but welcome harbinger. I welcome each new person as a fellow participant in this adventure of love.
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