It’s hard not to be sentimental about babies, and it’s natural to be concerned about mother and child during delivery. Many of us have known the sorrow of births gone awry, of either mother or baby or both not making it through delivery; and then there is the loss of children through miscarriage. When a baby is born mother and father want to know it is okay, want to count its fingers and toes. Even in developed countries, with hospitals and technology, babies are not guaranteed to live, and mothers still die in childbirth. In Afghanistan and Niger the 2017 infant mortality rate is estimated at one in ten, what must those parents think and feel during delivery?
It is one thing to look back at a healthy birth and feel sentimental and sweet, but even healthy births may have their bittersweet elements, their tinges of sorrow. What of babies born in prison hospitals? While we may rejoice at the birth we may be concerned about the future of mother and child. How about babies born in war zones with carnage a daily fact of life? How many babies born in squalid refugee camps will ever know a week of healthy meals? How many will die of starvation?
We ought not to hide ourselves from these realities, as much as we would like to; much of the world lives in poverty, much of the world lives without knowing where the next meal will come from, babies are dying today from disease and malnutrition and lack of medical care. If we live in the USA, children are born everyday who will grow up in violent neighborhoods; who will not know the blessing of a balanced diet - both in rural and urban areas. Babies are born today in affluent families and in poor families who will one day die from a drug overdose.
While we may be sentimental about babies when the baby is all we see, when we place the baby in the context of our violent and hurtful world we find that our sentimentality is tinged, if not overpowered (depending on our immediate context) by the harsh realities of life on earth.
Can we imagine Prince William and Kate choosing to have their children born and raised in Afghanistan, or in a violent inner-city environment in the USA? Can we imagine photo-ops of William and Kate with their children in these contexts after a car bomb or a drive-by shooting? Can we see William and Kate walking with their children down streets filled with litter, dilapidated buildings, and burnt out cars?
We want the best for our children and we expect others to want the best for their children - whatever station of life we find ourselves in, we expect parents to do their best. We would not understand William and Kate if they lived with their children in dangerous environments when we know they could do better - it would be hard to be sentimental about William and Kate.
And so we come to Bethlehem and a most dangerous birth; for the holy is born into an unholy world, love is born into a realm of hate, peace is born into a society of war and strife, hope is born into despair - and while we can be sentimental because we are looking back, should we really isolate our sentimentality from the harsh realities surrounding the birth of Jesus Christ; should we isolate our sentimentality from today’s realities of hunger, hatred, disease, war, and...most of all...sin...from a humanity in rebellion against God, with much of this rebellion in the form of a war against the baby born in Bethlehem, who was born to die on the Cross and rise from the dead? Do our own souls provide a hospitable place from Him to live, or do oceans of rage and selfishness and anger toss our hearts and minds?
Have we transformed a feeding trough into a stain-lined comforter in a beautiful crib? Have we removed the smell of sheep from the shepherds? Have we taken Joseph and Mary and cleaned them up so they will be presentable for our candlelight service?
And what of Herod? What of that murderous beast? Why do we not portray Herod hovering over our nativity scenes? Is it for the same reason we shield our sentimentality from the harsh realities of present-day violence, addiction, war, famine, disease, refugees, poverty in all of its forms, and most of all...sin and rebellion against God? (Are we thanking God that the Holy Family did not encounter a wall prohibiting them from entering Egypt?)
What kind of father would knowingly have his son born in an impure environment, in an environment of death and disease and hatred? What kind of father would knowingly place his baby son in a situation in which the most powerful king of the region would seek to kill him? What kind of father would have his son born in a place in which the son would meet an excruciating death?
As we ponder these things let us remember that “God so loved the world that He gave His Only Begotten Son…”
Let us not forget that “while we [that is you and me] were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of His Son.”
Should we bow in awe at the birth of Jesus Christ? Yes. Should we marvel at the love of God? Yes.
Should we allow sentimentality to isolate us from the realities surrounding His birth and the realities in our world today?
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