It's when we face for a moment
the worst our kind can do, and shudder to know
the taint in our own selves, that awe
cracks the mind's shell and enters the heart:
not to a flower, not to a dolphin,
to no innocent form
but to this creature vainly sure
it and no other is god-like, God
(out of compassion for our ugly
failure to evolve) entrusts,
as guest, as brother,
the Word.
Denise Levertov (1923-1997)
"And the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us." Denise Levertov ends her poem with "the Word" (capitol W). The Word is God's not remaining in silent isolation from us but always expressing God's self — speaking, communicating, sharing, giving away God's own self. And this Divine nature, essential aspect or interface becomes a human being in Jesus, born of Mary. We call it the Incarnation. It is the heart of Christianity. Yet despite all the trouble to which God has gone, "our ugly failure to evolve" seems to be a constant with us.
Donatello (1386-1466), the Italian Renaissance sculptor has gone to some lengths to make this plain for those who view his work: the Infant Jesus is squirming as baby's do, even tangled in Mary's veil. His tunic-shirt is pulled up, leaving the baby totally exposed. What's the point? Wouldn't it have been easier for the artist to carve folds of cloth instead of a baby's body? But Donatello wants to be sure we "get it" — God has become what we are. God has been born into a body like our own. "He knows our need, to our weakness is no stranger."
In the Christmas Octave I send a blessing to you and your dear ones,
with good wishes for health and safety,
growth in the things that matter most to God's heart,
and with gratitude for our meeting here.
