On one heavenly night, a child was born for us, a son was given to us, so that we might have life and have it more abundantly (Isa 9:6; John 10:10).
God communicates this life—an eternal, everlasting life—by revealing his innermost secrets, the divine mysteries, to those whom he loves.
In his providence, he discloses these secrets to many, but he discloses them most clearly and most profoundly to enlightened souls: those souls who are flooded with, and moved by, celestial light.
To the most enlightened of these souls—which is to say, those who understand his designs, discern his wishes, and comprehend his teachings most perfectly—God first disclosed his secrets, not as a man, but as a babe. It was thus fitting that the two most enlightened souls of all should be entrusted with the responsibility of parenting this child. At his birth, he did not yet need to speak; his parents had deep intuitions of love that allowed them to move and act in accord with his every need. Simply put, they knew and understood the child thoroughly, for though his divinity was veiled by his humanity, these souls, by a mysterious grace, recognized the child as none other than “the Christ, the Son of the living God” (Matt 16:16).
God first disclosed his innermost secrets to these souls of light. But what God communicated to them in these tender moments, what he revealed to them as a babe, can only be surmised by observing the ordinary behavior of infants. It seems to me that infants find nothing more pleasing, nothing more consoling, than to be held by another, especially by those with whom they are most familiar and who, in a manner of speaking, know them best. For this particular child, then, it was most pleasing to rest in the arms of those who knew and understood him most perfectly, who knew and understood him not only as man, but as God.
In the arms of his parents, the child disclosed a most salutary truth: he desires to be held, comforted, and consoled by those whom he loves. Jesus desires to rest in the arms of enlightened souls, who are perfectly content with adoring him in silence, even when (especially when!) he falls asleep at their breast. His mother and father were thus disposed, more so than any other creature, to hold, to comfort, and to console this child. On that heavenly night, they surely took turns holding him while the other watched the heavenly scene unfold, transfixed by love.
The father, an enlightened soul, was the first man to hold the child. He, so silent and selfless, almost certainly wrapped the babe in swaddling clothes before placing him into the hands of his wife, who, in turn, embraced the child as only mothers can. He would have then watched the virgin, whose sublime countenance and ethereal beauty became all the more manifest in the presence of her Lord and King, caress her son for the first time. And when the woman invited him closer, the father would have extended his strong hands toward the child with eager anticipation, an anticipation that would never know disappointment from either wife or son.
In the silence of Bethlehem, God first disclosed his innermost secrets to these enlightened souls, not as a man, but as a babe. In so doing, he communicated in a language that is at once human and divine. It is the language preferred by souls of light, for it is the language of Christ when he rests, asleep at their breast. It is the language of Mary, and it is the language of Joseph. It is the language of silence.
And this silence is not temporal but eternal, a foretaste of everlasting life.
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Photo by Camilo Jimenez on Unsplash
