Fragile life, holy life

It was our second day in Erie, Pennsylvania. I was about ten years old. “Momma,” I said, “This is the place where I want to live.” My mother smiled a little. “And how can you be so sure of that so soon, Joan?” she said. “You’ve hardly seen the place.” My mother was a practical woman. She didn’t do things without “a good reason.” “Because,” I said back, sure of the logic of my argument, “there are trees on every street here.” And indeed there were. Trees and thick bushes in big yards and wild grasses in open lots and live flowers everywhere. The place vibrated life.

 

I was sure then that I was correct in my criteria and I’m even more sure of it now. The truth is that life is not only about living. Life is also, purely and simply, about life, about the holiness of creation, about God’s love incarnate in the world around us. And, interestingly enough, I realize more and more every year, it is the spark of the divine in life that Christmas is meant to celebrate. It is fragile life, holy life, that Christmas hallows, that Christmas calls us to recognize, that Christmas reminds us to bow down before as we go.

 

How is it that we have lost our capacity to see the Creator in creation? Is it possible that those who cannot see the divine in the created world have missed Jesus also? Is it possible that those who miss the humanity of Jesus miss the holiness of the rest of creation as a result? Celebrate life.