A few Advents ago, I was reading one of the multitudinous magazines that ended its marketing journey in my mailbox. One glossy holly garlanded page advertised a plaque lauding something like this:
If God would’ve sent Wise Women to Bethlehem’s manger, Mary would’ve had a clean floor, wrapped gifts, chicken casseroles and breast-feeding advice.
I laughed out loud considering the helpless, hopeless awkwardness of ornately dressed, childfree Wise Men in the presence of a tiny, new, pink-fleshed, fragile, wailing, flailing babe. After judging the guys – from a station of feminine maternal superiority – I got a sober sense that we’re all 'Wise Men' in the presence of God Incarnate.
The humility and absurdity of deity embodied in a baby makes any wise (or not so wise) one stupor. It undoes, challenges, confounds, surprises, and blesses with the kind of mystery and grace that only shows up in unexpected places.
Christmastide Laudate
God is born as baby
today;
Mary gives birth in a
stable.
The Star illuminates
The Way;
And Wise Men are far
from able.
write write write 2004
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