Christmas Day 2016
“Flesh”. It’s all
around us.
It titillates - advertising
agencies know this in getting us to buy a particular product.
It troubles – “my body is not perfect, I must see a
surgeon”. We are horrified by the layers of unnecessary flesh, fat, and
celluloid clinging to our bones.
It terrifies –
zombie movies and TV detective shows with half decayed cadavers on the cold
steel of the mortuary table.
It tantalises – we will all be wanting to lose weight after
Christmas. Some of us at the gym, some of us on steroids to boost our
self-esteem.
It traumatises –
some of us are repulse by raw flesh and won't go anywhere near the butcher.
In our culture, we continue to fear the things of the flesh or at least
to keep at arm’s length some of the realities of fleshly life. This culture
does not approve of unwanted hair, unwanted odours, or unwanted signs of aging.
It’s a new form of Gnosticism.
And yet, this is what we celebrate today – the outrageous
miracle of Christmas. The feast of God in the flesh. In The Everlasting Man,
Chesterton recalls how skeptical critics like to point out to believers how odd
it is to say that a new-born baby is the eternal God, or that He had made the
sun and all the stars. Christians, however, had clearly noticed the wonderful
strangeness of the Incarnation long before the critics. They found it not a
little odd, but overwhelmingly so, and altogether wonderful. As Chesterton
noted, “We hardly needed a higher critic to draw our attention to something a
little odd about (the very thing we) have repeated, reiterated, underlined,
emphasized, exulted in, sung, shouted, roared, not to say howled in a hundred
thousand hymns, carols, rhymes, rituals, pictures, poems and popular sermons.”
An outrageous act to be sure, because in joining us in the fullness of our
humanity, our lives are made holy once and for all.
Today is the feast
of God in the flesh. At Christmas we remember that the word “Incarnation” is
from the Latin “in caro” which
literally means “in the flesh”. That is what we just heard in the Prologue of
St John’s Gospel – Jesus, the Eternal Word became flesh and dwelt among us full
of grace and truth. The Invisible Deity became visible. St John the Evangelist deliberately used the
crude, blunt word, “flesh.” It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that
‘Word,’ with a capital ‘W,’ and ‘flesh,’ undoubtedly with a small ‘F,’
were the polar opposites in the way John’s hearers thought. The
sophisticated Greeks recoiled from the word flesh in regard to Deity. Flesh, to
them, was corruptible, temporary, and doomed to be destroyed and cast aside. No
God would deal with anything as degrading as human flesh. Yet that is exactly
what God did. In becoming flesh, God accepted the limitations of humanity. But
there is more to it. The coming in flesh by God was for a rather grisly and
visceral end.
God meets us in the flesh, God dies for us in the flesh, and
now God feeds us with His flesh. We are known, joined, partnered, loved and
nourished in the flesh. Sounds absurd, right? But when you drill down into it,
it does make sense. The world is mucked up. Only a sacrifice of flesh is
sufficient to fix it all up and a special kind of flesh at that. The world was
in need of a major organ transplant in
order to survive and mutate into the next level of evolution.
When you think about it, it was an outrageous act on God’s part to become
human, to become flesh, to become frail. This is what God did when He became
flesh. With a mysterious mixture of Divine grace and love, He performed the
greatest act of condescension of all time and eternity. With such limitless
power, the Word of God that could not be contained by the universe condescended
to be compressed into human flesh. St Augustine paints this divine
condescension in livid colours. “Creator of heaven and earth, He was born on
earth under heaven. Unspeakably wise, He is wisely speechless; filling the
world, He lies in a manger; Ruler of the stars, He nurses at His mother’s bosom,
Man’s Maker was made man, that He, Ruler of the stars, might nurse at His
mother’s breasts; that the Bread might be hungry, the Fountain thirst, the
Light sleep, the Way be tired from the journey; that the Truth might be accused
by false witnesses, the Judge of the living and the dead be judged by a mortal
judge, Justice be sentenced by the unjust, . . . that Life might die. He was
made man to suffer these and similar undeserved things for us.”
Faith in the Incarnation speaks such large ideas that both stagger and
delight the mind, and it speaks so great a mercy and kindness that it is hardly
possible to teach it as if it were some everyday fact. The Catechism of the Catholic Church
spells out beautifully the profound significance and the reasons why the Son of
God became man (456-60).
The first truth of the Incarnation, is that He came to save me! God
Himself became a little baby, a growing child, a young man; He suffered every
manner of poverty and pain, and He died upon the cross—for me! And it is
because He is my God that His salvation is so complete. Today, the world has
forgotten that it is so in need of salvation. Many governments, non-governmental
organisations and even religions have attempted to ‘save’ mankind from the
humiliations of grinding poverty and unjust powers of this world. But we need to
be saved from even more than that. We need to be saved from our own sins, and
from all the pain and heartache and danger that penetrates the world because of
sin.
This leads us to the second truth – How much I am loved! God
Himself became man, and He Himself suffered for us, so that we could see and
feel how much we are loved. Christmas, just like Easter and Good Friday, is the
Feast of God’s love. When we see that it was the very Son of God, truly God,
who suffered the humiliation of becoming a defenceless baby, who suffered the
most bitter things, even death, willingly for us, we are allowed to see the
immensity of God’s love and compassion. For Christians, the evidence and proof
of the Lord’s own heroic love is contained in this simple statement – “He died
for me.” But in order to die, He must first assume human flesh and life.
The third truth is by far the most outrageously imaginable –
He gives us divine life. God’s becoming man was that great exchange: He took on
our humanity in order that we may assume His divinity. Certainly, not a fair
exchange but we shouldn’t be complaining because we got the best end of the
deal. Through this humiliation of the Son of God we are lifted up, made sharers
of the divine nature, able even now to share His divine life by faith, hope,
and love. Because of what the Son of God experienced and did in our human
nature, every man and woman is able to live a divine life, to be a friend of
God, and come to see God in the infinite gladness of eternal life.
There can be no Christmas, in fact, there can be no
Christian faith or life, without confessing that the Son of God, who is
eternally God with the Father, has truly become our brother. Faith in Jesus is
everything for the Catholic faith, not just the Eternal Logos, but also in the
Incarnated Word who took flesh in a mortal woman’s womb and was born in
Bethlehem. As God has given himself to us in the flesh of Jesus Christ, so we
are to give ourselves back to Him in our own flesh, in our hands and feet and
faces in the world. In our ordinary daily living, in you and me. It
is in Christ, as the Communion Antiphon for this mass attest, “all the ends of
the earth have seen the salvation of our God.” “O come, let us adore Him,
Christ the Lord.”
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