Today is the day we celebrate Jesus' incarnation.
It sounds like a medical procedure if you say it with emough of theological affect.
I prefer to think about the commemoration of this event in a way similar to CS Lewis who described it as Jesus parachuting behind enemy lines to start the process of our eventual liberation.
Some great movies have been made about D-Day, and they all do a fantastic of job showing how even well-trained paratroopers got bewildered, lost, scared, and confused when they hit the ground deep inside enemy territory in the early morning hours of 06 June, 1944.
I think that both the French citizens and the German soldiers would have been equally surprised at their appearance, but what a different view each would have taken towards a heavily-laden young American soldier with his face blacked out and weapons protruding from everywhere.
The Frenchman knew that his occupation was at neaing the end, hopefully.
The German knew that the defenses along the Atlantic Wall were stout, but that there was not much to stop the allied forces if they made it past the beaches.
Is this Christmas, or saving Private Ryan?
It's both.
Jesus came into the world with a momentary flash of light, and was then whisked away to Egypt because Herod and Rome had plenty behind their initial defenses to finish off anyone who dared to incite a rebellion or lead anyone along a new way.
Jesus spent thirty years being a regular guy, by outward appearances. He certainly had friends and family and community to help him grow along the way into the man who would, in a way not unlike William Wallace in Braveheart, lead his people (us) to their ultimate victory.
The "Word made flesh," in you is what I recognize this Christmas.
I have pictures above of our parish, St. Thomas More, and a school, Decatur Presbyterian, where our three youngest have attended.
For over a month, members of each of those communities, and others as well, have brought food, flowers, beer, laughs, prayers, and joy to our home. The support we have enjoyed has been overwhelming, and I have really been hesitant to say too much about it for fear of embarrassing, favoring, or slighting someones' efforts.
We have had our kids driven around to school, practices, play-dates, and just "away."
We have had groups pay for house-cleaners, and women come to our house and do laundry. We had friends help decorate our house for Christmas, and communities from a synangouge to cloistered carmelite nuns, and a lot in between, offer prayers for us.
Most of the people who read this blog are the people I am addressing.
You did the heavy-lifting and shelled out the cash and made the meals.
You made time in your busy schedules to pick up or drop off kids and food.
You called, sent an email or a card, or asked how everything was going.
You made Christ present in the flesh by your charity and acts of faith and love.
I was the beleaguered and exhausted French peasant who looked up and saw the strong liberator coming to my aid.
I was the one who felt lost and alone and scared, and looked up and saw you loving my children for me.
I was the one whose knowledge proved to be of small value against the uncertainty and chaos that surrounded us these past six weeks, and you were the gentle deliverer who was there to prop me up.
You showed me Christ "in the flesh" in your flesh, and your smiles, and your kind words, and your generosity.
Our entire family has benefitted greatly from all of this, but none more than me.
You helped me end (mostly) my days of straining gnats and swallowing camels.
God bless you.
Merry Christmas!
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