We have likely been preparing for Christmas for months. Now that the day is nearly upon us, we might find ourselves asking, “Have I done enough?” or “Am I truly prepared?”
Whether this Advent season has been one of peaceful prayer or a white-knuckled ride through crazy town, Christmas Eve is drawing near. Thankfully, Jesus’ coming is not dependent upon any right or wrong preparation.
At Christmas, Emmanuel comes to us.
In his most recent Apostolic Exhortation, Pope Leo XIV beautifully describes Jesus’ coming to us as follows:
God is merciful love, and his plan of love, which unfolds and is fulfilled in history, is above all his descent and coming among us to free us from slavery, fear, sin, and the power of death. Addressing their human condition with a merciful gaze and a heart full of love, he turned to his creatures and thus took care of their poverty. Precisely in order to share the limitations and fragility of our human nature, he himself became poor and was born in the flesh like us" (Dilexi Te, 16).
While the Christmas story is familiar, we cannot allow the Incarnation to become anything less than shocking. By coming to humanity in flesh and blood, the God of the universe demonstrated absolute humility and vulnerability. We must, in turn, allow the reality of the Incarnation to shape our own hearts of flesh. When the Author of Life takes on human flesh in Jesus to model perfect love, we have no choice but to respond with gratitude and a desire to follow Him.
Our Proper Response to the Incarnation is Twofold
Naturally, our first instinct in response to the good news of Emmanuel (God With Us) is to praise and thank the Messiah for coming to save us, for being our Light in the darkness. This response is instinctive; it is natural. It is easy to recognize the absolute generosity of the infinite God being reduced to a finite being to enter into human history.
In the Mass, we echo this natural instinct of gratitude. At the Preface of the Eucharistic Prayer, the priest invites the faithful to “give thanks to the Lord our God,” and we respond, “It is right and just.” The priest continues: “It is truly right and just, our duty and salvation, always and everywhere to give you thanks, Father most holy, through your beloved Son, Jesus Christ, your Word through whom you made all things, whom you sent as our Savior and Redeemer, incarnate by the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin.”
Interestingly, the root of the word “humility” is humus, or earth. Despite God’s divinity and infinite nature, in deep humility, God consented to being made in the same manner as Adam (see Genesis 2:19). That would be like us willingly being made of construction paper and Elmer’s glue—not because those things are not good, but because they are insufficient to express the totality of what we are.
And yet, the Lord does not hesitate.
With this heart posture, the second response to our Emmanuel comes more naturally: it calls us to be willing to enter into the suffering of another out of love. This is not because it is comfortable, or even necessarily gratifying. Our response to suffering and vulnerability is to lean into it by making ourselves vulnerable—making ourselves like Christ.
C.S. Lewis notes, “The whole offer which Christianity makes is this: that we can, if we let God have His way, come to share in the life of Christ . . . Every Christian is to become a little Christ. The whole purpose of becoming a Christian is simply nothing else” (Mere Christianity, p. 177).
To enter humanity as an adult man would have accomplished the same intention for the Lord to dwell among His people and afforded a reasonable means for intellectual and physical navigation in the world. Instead, Jesus comes to us as an infant, incapable of even feeding Himself. No other worldview has ventured to this place of relationship. Vulnerability comes from the root word vulnera, meaning “wounds,” signifying the Lord’s willingness to enter into the brokenness of humanity, and foreshadowing His own wounds on Calvary. This dimension of the Incarnation tells us a great deal about the nature of our loving God.
An Invitation to Reflect on the Incarnation
Like so many things, we often imagine that this kind of love is beyond our reach. Yet, the opposite is true. The Incarnation reminds us that this very love is what we are made of and intended for. Our greatest dignity is to be image bearers of the Divine, and we reflect that best when we act with love.
Servant of God Dorothy Day beautifully articulated this point in her December 1945 column, “Room for Christ”:
It is no use saying that we are born two thousand years too late to give room to Christ. Nor will those who live at the end of the world have been born too late. Christ is always with us, always asking for room in our hearts" (The Catholic Worker).
Her wise words have always comforted me in this regard, as circumstances don’t have to be perfect to be just what we need. In fact, they never were. The world was not prepared for what God had prepared for us in Jesus; it had to wait. Jesus’ parents could not have imagined their story and yet, Mary said yes. Joseph said yes. Though the room at the inn wasn’t ready, Jesus arrived exactly on time.
This is our invitation: to conform ourselves to Christ.
As we approach Christmas Day, let us reflect:
- How can we best celebrate and praise God for the gift of the Incarnation?
- How does this praise affect not only my preparation for Christmas, but my daily life?
- Where is the Christ Child or Holy Family seeking hospitality in my community?
- How am I responding with faith and trust to meet the needs of others?
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How vulnerable am I willing to be to enter into another’s wound, in an effort to show them love? How have others done so for me?
The Christmas story does not end with the birth of Christ—it is just the beginning!
