Christmas Meditation

Tiny child wrapped in handwoven cloths and laid on prickly, earthy hay, the graced presence of God living, breathing, crying, and suckling in precarious vulnerability. With every rise and fall of Emmanuel's tiny chest, the fragile-strong Christ-child reveals: 

If grace is life, then the greatest injustice is to stanch its flow. 

Running child dressed in dirty rags, fleeing the terror of exploding bombs, piercing shrapnel, and the stench of gun powder, only to be barred from safety by those who fear their presence. With every scream of terror and cry of anguish, the Christ-child groans:

If grace is life, then the greatest injustice is to stanch its flow. 

Hungry child with worn-out shoes, too young to work, too old to ignore that they live in a wealthy, powerful country, but all too often go to bed with painful, aching stomachs that have had too little to eat. With every rumbling stomach, the Christ-child groans:

If grace is life, then the greatest injustice is to stanch its flow. 

Hidden child dressed for success, covering the bleeding wounds left by love offered with conditions too high to reach, masking the consequences of another's pain on their own bodies, fearing yet hoping that someone will notice. With every secret tear and silent plea, the Christ-child groans:

If grace is life, then the greatest injustice is to stanch its flow. 

Grown-up child clothed in adult-sized skin and bones--angry, grieving, hurting, despairing while surveying the fragile pieces of their unsafe childhood. Love came down for this child, too, gracing the groanings of all creation:

If grace is life, then the greatest injustice is to stanch its flow. 

This Christmas, may we feast on Christ, who sates our tired, downtrodden, and heavy laden souls thirsty from fear, despair, and grief with the ever-flowing grace of the Christ-child, that we may become grace-givers in a world famished for Love Incarnate.