The Jesuits encourage us to pray with our imagination. For example, imagine the day John baptized Jesus. Picture the crowds and the noise. How much attention do strangers give to Jesus’ moments in the water? Do you hear God declare that Christ is his son? Or was it just a clap of thunder? What does this suggest about miracles?
Such exercises help us find and maintain a connection to our Lord. The Old Testament also has some great stories to consider. We can picture young Joseph showing off his new robe and his brothers’ jealous reaction. After they sold him into slavery, how often did he swear to get even? Contemplating Joseph’s struggle to forgive his brothers can help us overcome our anger at our own siblings.
Since Christmas, I’ve been thinking about the infant Jesus. I can easily picture myself among the disciples, listening to the adult Jesus teach. I ask him a question that’s been bothering me. Perhaps I hear his answer, or perhaps I just feel Christ’s sincere concern.
It’s harder to imagine interacting with the infant Jesus. What can you do with a baby? I remember tiptoeing into my children’s bedroom just to watch them sleep. When I bathed them, I marveled at the softness of their skin. I delighted in their efforts to grasp something, even my glasses. My favorite memory is just sitting in a chair cuddling my baby.
We can use such memories to place ourselves in Scripture or church history. For example, we could join the Holy Family on their journey to Egypt. They probably traveled in a group, and they had lots of time for conversation. If something is troubling us, we could ask Joseph or Mary for advice. Or, we could offer to carry Jesus for a while.
So here we are, holding this warm bundle close to our hearts. We can’t ask him for anything; he’s too young. He wouldn’t understand our confession either. So we do what anyone does with a quiet baby. We cuddle him. We rejoice in the fact of his existence. We treasure each tiny finger and toe. We gaze into those shiny dark eyes. We match our breathing to his until we’re almost one person.
This, to me, is the highest level of prayer. We spend time with Jesus for no reason except we love him. We rejoice in the love that compelled divinity to become human. Even if Jesus never granted a single one of our requests, he would still be an amazing gift. He’s the proof that God considers sinful humanity worth his time, even his life.
Our whole spiritual life is richer when we spend some of our time just enjoying Jesus. As we imagine holding that very real baby, pain and worry fall away. Penance and petition become less important. We come away from such encounters with fewer worries and regrets. We share some of Christ’s confidence in his Father’s love.
We don’t love babies because they’re beautiful. Some are pretty funny looking. We don’t love them because of what they can do. A baby’s repertoire is limited. We love them just because they are. They don’t have to do anything to impress us. We already think they’re wonderful.
That’s how God the Father sees us. Dirty diapers and spitting up don’t disturb him. Our screaming doesn’t anger him. He holds us and walks with us through hunger, pain and disease. All the gentleness we feel toward a newborn is tiny compared to the immense tenderness God feels for us. In cuddling the baby Jesus, we find ourselves cuddled in return.
Kathleen welcomes comments. Send them to Kathleen Choi, 1706 Waianuenue Ave., Hilo, HI 96720, or e-mail: kathchoi@hawaii.rr.com.
