Years ago, a middle-aged priest lived in Virginia. Life seemed to treat him well. He loved the community at his parish. The youth group he led seemed to be booming. He found himself in a happy rhythm.
But then, the call came. The priest’s superior asked that the young man travel up to Boston and start a new community there. The priest felt dismayed. The priest felt uncertain and shaken. Traveling to Boston would mean leaving behind the friends, youth group, and parish he had grown to love. It would mean letting go of everything that he had called home for the last five years of his life. But he obeyed. He packed what little he had into his car, filled up the tank, and began the trek up to the northeast.
After hours of driving, the priest finally arrived. He unpacked his belongings and dropped them off at the rectory where he would be living. Evening adoration happened to be going on at the same time, so after a quick wash up and a bite to eat, the priest snuck into the church for prayer.
Not Enough?
He hadn’t yet met anyone since arriving. Jesus would be his first encounter. As he knelt in prayer, feeling discouraged and alone, he heard these words, “Am I not enough for you?” And there, in that moment, the priest knew that despite everything, He was enough.
In this Christmas season, Jesus reminds us of this reality: “Am I not enough for you?” He comes as a babe, stripped of every human comfort except that poor love from a young man and woman. The child holds its arms outstretched, waiting to be hugged and kissed. It cries aloud to be nursed or changed or comforted. And in that, there exists a poverty and a nakedness, so that His Voice may ring true for us: “Am I not enough for you?”
He chose to be naked so that we might only need Him. He bears no gifts other than Himself. And that is poverty. He says, “I love you poorly and wait for you to love me back.” Jesus never demands our love. He only waits for it. He entered the poverty that only love can create, so that love and love alone may exist.
Love Poorly
But then he invites the same from us. He invites us to love poorly. He invites us to love with our presence. We often want to love with our talents or our beauty or our family instead of loving with the gift of our being. We often don’t love like this because it’s scary.
“See what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called the children of God. Yet so we are” (1 John 3:1). Time and time again our readings point us back to the core of our existence: our identity. And it’s our identity and identity alone that make us special. And to this, Jesus speaks again, “Is this not enough for you?” But it can be hard to accept this reality and to let our love flow from it. It’s messy and vulnerable and risky. Unlike the work or accomplishments we do, this identity comes not from a job well done. It comes only as a gift — an undeserved gift.
In this love, we offer the gift of our little selves which can be rejected and hurt so easily. Our hearts tremble. What if I love but don’t receive love in return? What if I wait, and wait, and wait like Him and never receive an answer back? Our identity forces us to let go of control, so that we can be free to love like Him. And that’s the hardest part.
As humans, we desire control because it helps us feel validated. But in this new identity, we can only surrender and accept the fact that we did nothing to earn it. And in this love, we have to accept that we will be rejected and hurt when we try to love like Him. We have to accept the poverty of love because there and there alone are we free.
The Gift
And when we feel afraid, Christ gives us the manger. It’s a reminder that nothing matters more than the gift of our whole being. He opened Himself to be known, loved and hurt, so that we might do the same.
And when we have accepted this reality, we will then become food for others. We will let ourselves be consumed. And there, we will have become the womb for Jesus to be born because true poverty is only possible when the firstborn of the Father becomes the firstborn in us. And then, when we recognize this, everything we touch will become gold.
Will we love Him poorly and let Him be enough for us? Will we let the gift of ourselves be enough for Him? And, will we let it be enough for us?
Dear St. Joseph and Mary, come to our aid; show us as He showed you.
