
A Silent Two Standards
When we look to the great sixteenth century Saint and reformer, St. Ignatius of Loyola, we find that he presents us with a unique way to surrender to Christ. Ignatius, a Spanish soldier before his conversion, has us imagine two cities: the City of God with Christ as its King and the City of Man with Satan as its master. He has us imagine a great plain amidst the cities on which a great battle plays forth between Christ and his soldiers and Satan and his. Ignatius then has us imagine an invitation to join the army of each, and then to pick a standard, a banner, under which to fight. A banner of the world, or a banner of Christ’s cross.
What I hope to propose to you here is to look at these two standards in light of the Silent Night. Let us look to Satan and see what in the world he offers us when we ask him. Upon first glance, it may seem like everything we would want. Good things, but things Satan promises on the condition we make him king. What he offers us is a fulfillment of desire through the world and through his dominion.
Let us then look to Jesus, the baby in the manger. Let us realize that there is not much this baby can practically give us, outside of his presence. Let us then look to his parents, Mary and Joseph. Let us be astonished by how poor they are. Let us realize that their life was one of great suffering and trial on account of their son. Let us recognize, here too, there is not much they can offer us. Yet, let us see the way they look at Jesus, the way they hold him. The way he brings them incredible peace amidst the uncertainty. Let us ask Mary and Joseph, “What can you give me?” Let us hear their response: “All we have to give you is him.”
Is Jesus enough for us? This is the question every man and woman must ask. If all we receive this side of heaven is poverty, rejection, humiliation, and restriction yet riches of love, happiness, and freedom in eternity; would Jesus and his presence amidst it all simply be enough for us? What do you do as Mary stretches out her arms to give you her Son, the One who will truly satisfy all your need? How do you respond? Do you embrace him, or do you turn away from him?
He Has His Grip On You
Look now to the child who is wrapped in a manger. From the start of his life we can see him redeeming the world.
Jesus, you clothed yourself, you who knew no shame; so we might walk again in innocence and simplicity. You allowed yourself to be wrapped in swaddling clothes, made yourself unable to move; so we might be freed from slavery, able to walk free of sin and move again. You slept, so we might awake. You demanded no food, instead choosing to come in a manger, a trough, a place where animals eat; so we might leave the troughs of our own despair and suffering and enjoy the fruits of this world. You made yourself a boy, so we might become men.
The truth is, man is in need of a Savior. However, that savior cannot be man himself. The battle and wages of war among us is in need of a Divine King to lead his troops into battle. We are asked to fight, but not claim victory for ourselves on the battlefield. Rather, we are to claim victory for our Lord and King. Man is in need of a savior, a savior everlasting in reign, triumphant, and capable to address the infinite struggles this world and men behold. An eternal and infinite Savior of a God made man, the Child made King, Word Incarnate, Prince of Peace.
I’ve heard it said, what man is drawn to is not empty show or the familiarity of himself and his capability, but rather he is drawn to radicality. Tell me, what is more radical than God coming to us in the nature of man? What is more radical than a God who comes behind the frontline of our defenses, as a man, in the humility, fragility, and vulnerability of a baby?
This baby has come to me as a gift, as one I cannot quite explain. Transcending time, He has ravished and opened the heart of humanity. This event in time has become the hinge on which my history rests. The moment of the manger. When God entered into the trough of my very life: to rest, sleep, breathe, cry, and live in a place where I would’ve never guessed.
As you approach this child what can you say to Him? What in fact can you say to a baby? What in fact can you say to a baby you know to be your God and King?
Nothing and Everything.
Nothing: All you can do is fall on your knees, and reach out with your hand, to ask Mary to pull you close. All you can do is rest, sit, and become enraptured in His gaze, His face. You cannot say anything. You can only listen and keep watch. Notice the beating of His heart. The very heart in which ours beats for. Notice the very breath He breathes. The very breath which brought you life. You can only keep vigil as He sleeps.
Everything: What can you ask of this child? In what ways can He understand? Yet you know as you listen and watch Him. It is He who is listening and watching you. It is at this moment you must give Him everything; your very life, your very desires, your very soul. You must ask of Him everything. You must beg this baby to convert souls, to soften your heart and others. You must beg Him to carry every burden you and this world carries. You must ask Him to redeem everything by His very life and presence.
It seems unfair and unjust to ask so much of this child. Precisely because it is. Nothing we’ve done has granted us the gift of having so great a redeemer. A redeemer who meets us face to face, mouth to mouth, in adoration. He has met us here by his own plan of sheer goodness. We cannot be afraid to lay everything on Him, on the child whom the world never deserved. He is asking us to beg Him to change and redeem ourselves and the world.
As you kneel at the manger, extend your open hand to the hand of this child in front of you. Let this small hand which desires to work to change the world, hold onto the smallest of your fingers. Jesus has His grip on you. He has gripped you and He is not letting go.
Let the child on which humanity rests grip ever so tightly onto you. Let Him look and listen to you. He is doing the same for all of us. May our prayer be on this child for the hope of bringing forth the salvation of souls by His life, death, and resurrection.
Cover Top: Adoration of the Shepherds / François Boucher / The Metropolitan Museum of Art / Public Domain