The Child is Father of the Man

by Carl Mazza

My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man . . .
- William Wordsworth

Therefore when He comes into the world, He says, "Sacrifice and offering You did not desire, but You have prepared a body for Me. . . Then I said, Lo, I come, in the volume of the Book it is written of Me, to do Your will, O God."
- Hebrews 10:5,7

... and [King Herod[ sent and killed all the boys in Bethlehem, and in all its districts, from two years old and under... Matthew 2:16

The birth of Jesus was more of an end than a beginning. The infant was a child of purpose, no less than the man. The nativity, what we call Christmas, is a celebration of infancy - of Jesus, to be sure, but also of our own.

Every parent knows that a baby is not a blank slate. Newborns are strong with will, desire of life, and response. So that, like Jesus, the adult is heir to the destiny of the child. Our natural birthright is power and love, not the fearful inheritance we gather as we grow up.

Strange that the birth of Jesus was the occasion of great fear. The most powerful politician in the nation, the sovereign Herod, was deathly afraid of the infant and hunted to kill him. We could ask how a homeless baby created such a stir of dark emotion, but then, Herod's terror came from his gut, his primal fear. We can take the high ground and say it was him, not us, and that we would not have been so threatened by such baseless fear, but that would not be honest. In fact, such reaction is still commonplace in our world.

Jesus and Herod had this in common: both were infants. One surrendered his majestic heritage when taught the possibility of darkness; the other firmly let the light of his destiny shine, even through the terrible realities he faced in life. The infant Jesus remained the teacher of the man he became.

Last week we searched for folks living under one of the busiest bridges in Cecil County. It spans a creek that often floods to the level of the road, and even in a dry season it's damp and slimy underneath, where homeless persons live. The hammocks and cots set up on the damp dirt, around which knapsacks and trash bags, filled with possessions, are hung and stored to keep dry. It's much like it must have been in the stable where Jesus came into this world - not a very hospitable place for persons to live, and surely not a place to be born.

Why, I ask, do we fear persons who must experience their life in this environment? Even as the Hebrew king hated his infant subject, so the homeless of our world are feared and unwanted. The wish may not be so overtly expressed as murder, but a passion to be rid of such persons nonetheless.

When I saw the bedrolls and cots under the bridge I was stuck by how much it resembled a kid's environment... the sleeping bags, unmatched bedding, a camping atmosphere. Most of the homeless folks I have known are not more threatening than others, but they are much more vulnerable. Like sleeping in a stable - living under a bridge, in woods, car, or abandoned building is to be totally exposed to ready danger. Homeless persons have far more reason to fear that to be feared by others who have social, economic, and political power, not to mention a home that is safe and secure.

Following a nearby trail into the woods, we visited a homeless camp where two men, both seriously ill, are trying to survive. One, just out of the hospital, is a regular clean-up volunteer at Community Kitchen. He has a bag full of medications, and manages a precarious existence on an income of less than $200. a month. The woods are brighter than the bridge, but still the margin of a tough existence.

Yet this man, with distended belly and bare life, is helping his friend who is even sicker and more needy. His companion is so weak, so seriously ill, that he can barely walk. They are both so vulnerable that fear should be their constant companion, but it isn't so. Rather, they are both caring and hopeful - toward each other and the community as a whole - and gracious to us as visitors to their living space. As we leave, they begin preparing a squirrel for their dinner.

As I think about the nameless fear of the "homeless" that I continue to see in the community I love, I understand it less and less. It's especially so when I consider how Jesus lived his life so courageously and lovingly in the face of terror we can only imagine. Some day, I do believe we shall overcome, but in this Christmas season such reality remains that for which we must yet dream.

Perhaps Wordsworth was right, and that Jesus is truly mentor to our own souls - we are beings of destiny and great purpose. Coming into the world we shine, and the power of our infancy is that meant to instruct the woman or man we are to become. How readily we are seduced by the cares of life to surrender our heritage of the angels.