A Meditation on the Incarnation of Our Lord

Great is the Lord, says the Psalmist, and greatly to be praised; and his greatness is unsearchable. And again, he says, I will speak of the glorious honour of thy majesty, and of thy wondrous works. And men shall speak of the might of thy terrible acts: and I will declare thy greatness.

So great is he, that nothing can thwart him. Nothing can stop his advance. Nothing can keep him from doing what he will do. Not all the wiles of the devil, and certainly not the might of man. No power in heaven or on earth. The good and gracious will of God shall be accomplished.

And he, to demonstrate this great thing, has deigned to bring it to pass under the appearance of abject weakness and poverty. See, says the Almighty, behold, and be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth.

Let us consider on this High Feast Day how marvelously he accomplishes his will.

He chooses a peasant virgin to be his chosen vessel, and her feeble flesh to bind to his eternal greatness. The natural way of the world recoils at this, for how can one be born of a virgin? How can this be, seeing she knew not a man? It has never been, and could never be, except God make it so.

And this virgin is betrothed to a man who in his integrity would have put her away in sorrow for her perceived infidelity to him, except an angel came to him to tell him not to fear for she remains, being a virgin, immaculate, and that which shall be born of her shall be called the Son of God.

But Caesar has decreed that all must be taxed, each in his own city, regardless of personal circumstances. Regardless of her readiness in the ninth month to give birth. No matter, the royal decree forces them to travel, and suddenly, so that no arrangements for lodging could be made, in a town familiar  to them only by its name, as the town of their sometime lineage, the city of David, Bethlehem. No matter that, as one might expect given the circumstances of haste and crowds of sojourners, there was no room in the inn.

No place to lodge. No bed for a newborn. No place but the darkness of a nearby cave and a manger where cattle lately fed. Think on this, O man! See how low he stoops! See how impoverished he wills to become! See how seemingly impenetrable are the bulwarks of a fallen earth and her lost citizenry against this heavenly Guest, and yet he comes! How can this be, seeing there is no room?

No silken stuff, no warmth of hearth, no sheets of linen with which to swaddle and protect this baby Boy. Only the cold and dampness of a cave. The beasts have warm coats of fur, but not we; not mankind; and therefore not he, who became raw flesh against the stark brutality of a chill winter’s night.

A chill night that calls to mind the coolness of the day in which the Lord walked in Eden where man had sinned and hid himself. These things ought not to be. There should have been warmth and lush greenery and all the delightful fruits of the garden to eat, save the one forbidden which, alas, our parents chose.

But no matter; nothing could thwart him who walked in the fallen garden that day. The good and gracious will of God would be accomplished notwithstanding all.

Notwithstanding that Fall, nor the death that followed upon that Fall, nor its sorrow. Notwithstanding the murderous intent of Cain against his innocent brother, nor of countless myriads after him against countless myriads of innocents throughout all generations.

Notwithstanding, therefore, the dire circumstances of the day of the nativity of our Lord.

Nor of the days following: notwithstanding, that is, the murderous intent of Herod, who, wrapped in the devil’s grasp of hatred and disregard for all innocent infants, set forth to slay all the infants of Bethlehem, all fain to destroy the Incarnate One.

But the Almighty could not be stopped; indeed his power is made perfect in weakness. So he escapes as it were by the skin of his teeth, away to Egypt, in the nick of time. And Herod’s madness is thwarted.

And the devil’s madness is thwarted too, all of it. His thirst for bloodshed is frustrated by the shedding of the Infant’s blood on the eighth day, in token of the sacrifice he would ultimately make for all mankind. See where this leads: the devil’s designs on the death of man are likewise marked to be foiled by the death of this Man. Ah, behold, there is where death is! There is its greatest conquest: finally, of the Son of God. There it is, and there, too, it is undone! For he is the Sacrifice for fallen man, and he rises from the dead on the third day.

So let us therefore behold, and marvel, at the weakness of God this Christmas Day. Behold his course that will not be stalled, nor his purpose trammeled. And let us then also rejoice in our own weaknesses, and in the midst of our own sorrows. For we, notwithstanding these, are ourselves the very beneficiaries of our Lord’s marvelous course. And as his course was not stayed, neither shall ours be encumbered. Let us go, therefore, with buoyant hearts whither the shepherds in the field, and the wise men from the East, were directed. Let us find him wrapped in the swaddling clothes of deep humility, laid in a manger for our feeding. O come, let us adore him! Find him at his manger, which is now become, by his good grace, the altar at the Christ Mass; open your mouth humbly, as if you were among the beasts that lately fed in that cold cave, and receive him there. And know this:  Nothing could stop his advance or keep him from doing what he willed to do. And therefore if he is become your Lord, and you have received him, there is likewise nothing that can harm you: not sin, not the devil, not even death. No, I say, never! The good and gracious will of God shall be accomplished. So again I say, Venite adoremus! O come, let us adore him!