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The accounts of the birth of Christ are inexhaustible. All through our life, our faith finds resources in them for nourishing itself and converting itself to become more and more a faith in the God of the Gospel. There, Christians find their God and discover themselves, and the truth of their own heart. Christmas introduces us to the paradoxes with which the Gospel is strewn from beginning to end: the infinite God is there in a little child; the Almighty God is present in the weakness of a new-born infant; the Word becomes crying. Has it been emphasised enough how much these accounts are in profound coherence with the rest of the life of Jesus? Mistakenly, some people set them aside, as if they were the residue of a form of religion still too affiliated to the fabulous. Are we embarrassed by the appearance of a star? We have to look at the point to which it is leading us: to a naked infant in a crib. Above all let us see what these accounts are celebrating: God who expresses himself not through force or violence, but through a being who is helpless, and totally surrendered. At Christmas, let us also have the courage to listen to the word of Jesus: “Whoever sees me sees the Father” (John 14.9). As a result, the fear of God, fear which insinuates itself so easily, no longer has grounds for existing. Saint Peter Chrysologus writes that God became a child so that we might cease to be afraid of him. Many contemporaries of Saint John, both Jews and Greeks, could have written, “In the beginning was the Word…” Only John, the Christian, who had touched with his hands the Word of Life, can write, “The Word became flesh”. By “flesh” we are to understand weakness, finiteness, mortal created ness. Here is the scandal of the Christian faith. A scandal that is not restricted to Christ’s birth, nor even to his earthly existence, but continues in his way of being present today. From this, Saint Augustine draws a whole understanding of the sacraments. The Word took flesh, became flesh (John 1.14). And so God is linked to a process of becoming. He is not the unchangeable one that the philosophers imagine. His transcendence does not consist in remaining aloof, far from human beings. The transcendence of the God of the Bible is to penetrate human history and to bring newness to it. Where everything was old, worn out, apparently exhausted, with no future, the Word brings freshness, newness, zest for Life or quite simply what Christians call forgiveness. For if John writes, “The Word became flesh” with the connotations of weakness and finiteness that we have pointed out, he does not say, “we have seen his misery”, but “we have seen his glory”. An intense beauty, which John calls “glory”, shines forth from the incarnate Christ. In his manner of living in the midst of our world, in accepting human limitations, in a total surrender into the hands of his Father, in receiving his existence day by day, glory shines forth. The face of God reveals itself. Matthew does not tell us anything very different when he gives us the long genealogy of Jesus. The reader concludes that the history into which Jesus enters is complex and far from perfect. Who is this God who does not fear getting involved in the history of human beings, with its density and even its darkness? He is the God of the Nativity, of the Cross, of the Resurrection, but also of the sacraments. Through the Eucharist, he even mingles with our body, as Saint Gregory of Nyssa dares to say. It was to take time for Christians to draw the full conclusions of this way of taking history seriously. It is not even sure that the process is complete. Why are we touched by the accounts of the Nativity? When we read them something resonates inside us, like an appeal to let go of our shell, and to get rid of our armour and our self-sufficiency. Our hearts are made for trusting. Charles de Foucauld expresses this in his memorable prayer, “My Father, I surrender myself to you… for it is a necessity of love for me to give myself, to place myself without reserve into your hands, with an infinite trust, for you are my Father.” Very often, the heart only opens up in the presence of someone humbler than ourself. Let us not forget: it is the Wholly Other that is present in the crib. But that child prevents us thinking of transcendence as distance or as a threat. Open to his presence, we shall not lose our liberty. We shall be led to make of our lives a “creation with”. Yes, Emmanuel is there, in that child: “God-with-us”.
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Priče o Kristovom rođenju su neiscrpna. Tijekom čitavog našeg života, naša vjera u njima pronalazi bogatstva iz kojih se hrani i mijenja kako bi sve više postajala vjera u Boga Evanđelja. Ondje kršćani nalaze svojeg Boga i otkrivaju sami sebe i istinu svoga srca. Božić nas uvodi u paradokse kojima je Evanđelje prožeto od početka do kraja: beskonačni Bog ondje je u malom djetetu, Svemoćni je Bog prisutan u slabosti novorođenčeta, Riječ postaje plač. Je li dovoljno istaknuto koliko su te priče u dubokom skladu s ostatkom Isusova života? Neki ih ljudi greškom ostavljaju postrani, kao da su ostatci previše bajkovitog oblika religije. Je li nam neugodno zbog pojave zvijezde? Moramo se zagledati u točku do koje nas ona vodi: do golog novorođenčeta u jaslama. Prije svega, shvatimo što slave ove priče: Boga koji se ne izražava silom ili nasiljem, nego kroz bespomoćno biće koje se posve predaje. Uoči Božića, imajmo hrabrosti poslušati isusove riječi: «Tko je vidio mene, vidio je i Oca» (Ivan 14,9). Kao rezultat, strah od boga, strah koji se tako lako nameće, više nema temelja za postojanje. Sveti Petar Chrysologus piše da je Bog postao djetetom kako bismo ga se mi mogli prestati bojati. Mnogi suvremenici svetog Ivana, i Židovi i Grci, mogli su napisati: «U početku bijaše Riječ…» Samo Ivan, kršćanin, koji je svojim riječima taknuo Riječ Života, može napisati: «Riječ tijelom postade». Pod «tijelom» podrazumijevamo slabost, konačnost, smrtnost. Tu je skandal kršćanske vjere. Skandal koji nije ograničen na Kristovo rođenje, pa čak ni na njegov zemaljski život, nego se na svoj način nastavlja do danas. Iz njega sveti Augustin crpi čitavo shvaćanje sakramenata. Riječ je tijelom postala (Ivan 1,14). Tako je bog povezan s procesom postajanja. On nije onaj nepromjenjivi kojeg zamišljaju filozofi. Njegova transcendentnost ne sastoji se u tome da ostane nedostižan, daleko od ljudi. Transcendentnost biblijskog Boga je u tome da prodire u ljudsku povijest i donosi joj novinu. Gdje je sve bilo staro, istrošeno, očigledno iscrpljeno, bez budućnosti, Riječ donosi svježinu, novost, žar za Životom ili posve jednostavno, ono što kršćani nazivaju praštanjem. Jer ako Ivan piše: «Riječ je tijelom postala» s konotacijama slabosti i konačnosti koje smo istakli, on ne kaže «vidjeli smo njegovu bijedu», nego «vidjeli smo njegovu slavu». Velika ljepota, koju Ivan naziva «slavom» isijava iz utjelovljenog Krista. Živeći usred našega svijeta, prihvaćajući ljudska ograničenja, u potpunoj predanosti u ruke svoga Oca, primajući svoje postojanje dan za danom, slava isijava. Božje se lice otkriva. Evanđelist Matej ne kaže ništa bitno različito kada nam daje dugo Isusovo rodoslovlje. Čitatelj zaključuje da je priča u koju Isus ulazi složena i daleko od savršenstva. Tko je taj Bog koji se ne boji upetljati u ljudsku povijest, s njezinom gustoćom, pa čak i mračnošću. On je Bog Rođenja, Križa, Uskrsnuća, ali i sakramenata. Po Euharistiji, čak se prožima i s našim tijelom, kako se usuđuje reći Grgur iz Nisse. Kršćanima je trebalo vremena da izvuku potpune zaključke od ovakvog ozbiljnog shvaćanja priče. Čak nije sigurno da je taj proces gotov. Zašto smo dirnuti pričama o Rođenju? Kada ih čitamo, nešto u nama odzvanja, poput poriva da izađemo iz svoje školjke i skinemo svoj oklop i svoju samodostatnost. Naša su srca stvorena za povjerenje. Charles de Foucauld to izražava u svojoj nezaboravnoj molitvi: «Moj Oče, predajem ti se… jer je nužnost ljubavi da se predam, da se bez oklijevanja smjestim u tvoje ruke, s beskrajnim povjerenjem, jer ti si moj Otac.» Srce se vrlo često otvara samo u prisutnosti nekoga poniznijeg od nas. Ne zaboravimo: u jaslama je Posve Drugi. No, to nam dijete ne dopušta razmišljati o transcendentnosti kao o distanci ili prijetnji. Otvoreni njegovoj prisutnosti, nećemo izgubiti slobodu. Vodit će nas da od svojih života učinimo «zajedničko stvorenje». Da, Emanuel je ondje, u tom djetetu: «Bog s nama».