This past Christmas, I spent a couple days with my family at my brother’s house. One of the many highlights was spending time with my 11 month-old goddaughter. She became the center of attention for the 48 hours that we were there.
As I played with her, I noticed how much she was the master of her own mystery. Maddie whined or Maddie smiled if and when she felt the desire to whine, cry, or smile. Of course, things around her were a stimulus for that behavior, but all in all, life in those moments depended on what Maddie wanted. And yet, amidst that confidence, she still heavily needed the reassurance of her own mom or dad. Every few minutes, she’d scan the room to make sure mom or dad saw her. When she’d try to walk, she’d take a few steps, look up at her dad’s eyes and then try another step, with his hands holding her little fingers up. She’d grin from side to side. If mom or dad left, life would immediately go from peace and quiet to screaming baby 101.
Power and Children
When I was reading the Alleluia acclamation in light of the first reading, I was struck by John’s choice to connect the words power and children. He writes, “The Word of God became flesh and dwelt among us. To those who accepted him he gave power to become the children of God” (John 1:14). I don’t usually think becoming a child makes one powerful. I didn’t say it did. John did. The one who laid his head on the heart of Christ did. The one who stood at the foot of the Cross did. And, the one who arrived first at the tomb and believed, did.
When I think back to my niece, I recognize how much power she held being that child who knows she is deeply loved and accepted by her parents. Even when all hell breaks loose, the love-bond between mother and child is still evident. Otherwise, baby Maddie wouldn’t get so upset when mommy leaves the room. It’s this love that fuels Maddie. It’s this love that enkindles Maddie. And, it’s this love that enlivens Maddie. She shows herself as the master of her domain. If she doesn’t want to play or let someone hold her or eat something, she will let everyone know. But that reality is predicated on the fact that she knows she is loved. That’s why being that child for her is so powerful. She is captivated by love and, therefore, captivates others in her love.
A Child of God
I wonder if being a child of God could be a similar reality. Personally, I don’t quite feel or experience on a daily basis the power of being a child of God. Whether I believe it doesn’t change the fact that I am one. I wonder if John is trying to remind us of what it means to have this title. He’s trying to remind us that it’s the greatest thing possible that could happen to us. Maybe he’s trying to wake us up, telling us to behold ourselves. Behold, behold, behold. You are a child of God.
When we end our readings, we are left with the greatest child of God — the Son of God. The Baptizer seems to let everyone know. “Behold, the lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world” (John 1:29). Behold. This is a word the Scriptures use when retelling Pilate’s abuse of Christ, “Ecce, homo!” And now, it’s a word used every day at the Sacrifice of the Mass.
Behold, Behold, Behold.
Thank you for the beautiful reflection. Teaching with what appears as a practical experience as a torch to what the gospel teaches.