His power is made perfect in weakness

One of the central mysteries of our faith is the Incarnation, which the Church celebrates most solemnly at Christmas. It is an astonishing revelation that God, the Creator of all things, far surpassing anything we could expect or imagine, would choose to become one of us, being born of a woman and coming as a little baby. 

The all-powerful God took on the form of a powerless child. This is the mystery of the Incarnation. The Word becomes flesh! 

There is a deeply felt intimacy in our celebration of Christmas. We ponder the wondrous star illuminating the silent night sky above Bethlehem. We see the tiny infant Jesus, wrapped in swaddling clothes, held tenderly by his mother and ours. There is a closeness we feel with the Lord in this mystery. 

He does not seem quite as remote or unapproachable when we imagine him as a little child. It feels like we can lift him up in our own arms and hold him in the kind of tender embrace reserved for those closest to us. This is truly a wondrous and joyful mystery! 

The beauty of this intimacy, it seems to me, comes from the vulnerability of this little child. As we know from the gospels and Jesus’ interactions with his apostles and contemporaries, the common expectation was that the long-awaited Messiah-king would come in power with military might. 

The people of Israel looked for one who would come to conquer their enemies and drive away their occupiers. There was no room for weakness in the Messiah, no room for vulnerability. The Messiah had to be invulnerable to lead his people to freedom and bring about the deliverance for which they’d hoped. 

This expectation led to Jesus’ forceful rebuke of Peter when, in the face of Jesus’ foretelling his coming suffering and death, Peter attempted to block Jesus from accepting the cross. Peter could not imagine that Jesus would show weakness or vulnerability in the fulfillment of his messianic mission. “Get behind me, Satan,” Jesus responds to Peter’s opposition (Mt. 16:23).

The Lord also reminded Saint Paul of this essential reality when Paul complained about his own weakness and begged to be delivered from the suffering of his own life. “My grace is sufficient for you,” he said, “for my power is made perfect in weakness (2 Cor 12:9).” 

It is precisely in weakness that the Lord reveals his true strength. It is in laying down his life for us that Christ shows the perfect act of love. It is by taking on our weak human nature that Jesus brings us to share in the very life of the Most Holy Trinity. Truly God’s ways are not our ways!

Nowhere, perhaps, is this vulnerability and intimacy experienced more fully in our own lives than when we encounter our Lord in the Eucharist. 

Jesus gives himself to us in the simple form of bread and wine. Jesus takes on this form, so easily broken, so easily trampled, stolen and abused, so that we might more intimately receive him. 

What a gift this Most Blessed Sacrament is! What a privilege he gives his people, to eat his flesh and drink his blood and have life within us! 

All Jesus asks of us in return, is that we return the gift in kind. 

He invites us to give ourselves in love as a gift to him. He invites us to the same vulnerability and intimacy in sharing ourselves with others as he gives in sharing himself with us. 

This openness and vulnerability lead us deeper into his mercy, love and peace. His power is made perfect in our weakness, and it is in our weakness that we become saints. 

May the Lord draw you into a deep, intimate encounter with him this Christmas Season, and may you be led by the Holy Spirit to a fuller experience with his love, mercy and peace in the Holy Eucharist.