Incarnation

December 24th, 2025

Karin, Asher, and I attended the Christmas Vigil Mass at St. Rita’s yesterday evening. Asher went with some reluctance. We had to threaten him with a loss of possible Christmas gifts to get him to go. Karin, being a German, has been telling Asher that “Christkind” (the Christ child) won’t bring him presents unless he is a good boy, which means he needs to be at church to celebrate Christkind’s birthday. Asher was fine once we got there. Upon our return home, he was happy to learn that Christkind kept his part of the bargain.

I was uneasy during Mass. A lot of people were in the church. I am certain that the increased attendance was because of families coming together to worship. Our own family is fractured, so only the three of us were at Mass. The Christmas service is designed to stimulate love and joy. For some of us, the music, decorations, and ritual of the celebration only highlight an intense feeling a grief.

The deacon offered the prayers of petition to the congregation. One prayer hit home. The deacon told the parishioners,

“For those who have difficulty with Christmas, may they see how much God really loves them.”

He was talking to me there. I always struggle with Christmas. Karin knows this and she doesn’t expect a lot from me. Christmas comes with a lot of baggage. My version of the ghost of Christmas past likes to conjure up painful memories. The ghost of Christmas present doesn’t offer much to inspire me, and the ghost of Christmas future shows me a blank screen. I don’t enjoy Christmas as much as I endure it.

The priest preached about the Incarnation, which is what the holiday is all about. “The Word was made flesh and dwelt among us.” The whole notion of God taking human form is astounding. There is a laser like focus on the birth of Jesus, which is completely understandable, but also a bit unfortunate. The priest did say that one reason for God becoming human was to allow humans to be more like God. We have the opportunity to share in that divinity.

Why do we love the image of the Christ child? What is so attractive about the crèche? Why do we want to hold the baby Jesus in our arms, and have God hold us as well?

Asher is asleep in bed right now. I held him until he dozed off. He cuddles up to me for security and warmth. When I hold him, I hear his breath and feel his heartbeat. Asher brings me closer to God. When I have Asher in my arms, I am embracing the Christ child as well.

William Wordsworth wrote,

“Not in entire forgetfulness,

                      And not in utter nakedness,

But trailing clouds of glory do we come

                      From God, who is our home.”

We love small children because they are still so close to God. Even a five-year-old like Asher trails clouds of glory. He still exudes love and joy, not all the time, but enough. His birth is part of the Incarnation of Jesus.

Another English poet, William Blake, contemplated that essence of divinity within each person. He was once questioned about it by a scholar named Crabb Robinson.

Crabb Robinson reported: “On my asking in what light he (William Blake) viewed the great question concerning the divinity of Jesus Christ, he said, ‘He is the only God;’ but then he added, ‘And so am I and so are you.’”

Blake may have taken that a bit too far, but he was essentially right. We all have a piece of God within us. In the East, they would refer to that as Buddha nature. St. Francis of Assisi embraced the leper because he recognized God within that suffering individual. Dorothy Day saw Christ when she served the poor and the homeless. There is that divine spark in every person. In my case, I’ve buried it pretty deep, but it still flickers. It’s still there.

Any child born at any time anywhere shares in the Incarnation of Christ. True, Jesus was born two thousand years ago in a backwater of the Roman Empire. But he’s still being born now, each and every moment.

I look at Asher and I know that. Then I rejoice.