We Celebrate the Birth of a Child — Parents of Children with Disabilities

The holiday season has passed. Like every year, we look back and feel that during this time we are swept up in so many things of little importance. The anxiety over gifts. The logistics of meals and dinners. Games. Noise. Advertising. Blinding lights. All of it engages us, and much of it is beautiful, but we sense that this whirlwind risks pulling us away from what lies at the heart of it all.

For so many years we have gathered in our homes and turned our attention to the mystery of Christmas—a mystery whose incomprehensibility may have softened and sweetened it almost beyond recognition. Why not try stepping back into the shoes of our "elder brothers"?

Many of them were probably waiting for a Messiah who would lift them from slavery and help them defeat the hated Romans. Instead, they found a helpless infant who could not even secure a room at an inn. Born in a cave with his Mother and Father, a donkey, and an ox, lying in a manger no less! As beginnings go, it is utterly bleak. I don't know about you, but I suspect that when the Magi arrived at that cave, they too had their doubts. I wouldn't be surprised if, without drawing too much attention, they quickly went back to double-check their astronomical calculations.

I think it matters for us to look at Christmas as if we were reading the story for the first time

But their calculations were right. That scene, so unexpected and incomprehensible, was no accident. And perhaps it lacked the warmth and peace that our tradition has assigned to it. I believe it was shattering. Think of Mary and Joseph. In our nativity scenes they are calm and smiling. But anyone who has had a child knows how difficult those months are, how heavy with worry. And they could not even secure a warm, safe place for their precious son! What a disaster!

I'm not sure why, but I think it matters for us to look at Christmas as if we were reading the story for the first time. Maybe then we would be forced to admit that this beginning is genuinely a letdown. This is not the God we expect! Our nature, if we're honest, wants a God who solves problems, who brings justice, who defends the innocent, who rewards our effort and good will. Instead we are faced with a God who is fragile, small, helpless, and incomprehensible. How can we not ask: "Will this weakling really defeat the Romans? Yes, he's sweet... but against a legionnaire..." How can we not notice: "He seems a bit disorganized... that business about the inn, for instance..." How can we not admit: "He doesn't seem interested in fighting the invader and injustice the way we hope he would. If anything, he seems more defenseless than any of us!"

This is not what we expected!

I think this too is the shattering truth of Christmas. This God-child overturns and calls into question everything on our scale of values. His birth turns us upside down. It falls to us to notice that he is pointing us in the right direction. It falls to us to find a way to accept him and love him, beyond our natural daily disappointment. We must try, Christmas after Christmas, to discover and rediscover that his "weakness" may itself be a sign of trust and respect for us. It falls to us to recognize him in the people around us. It falls to us, with his help, to find the way to follow him.

— Tommaso (a father), 2003