Childless

 

I was reading the Last Supper Discourse in the Gospel of John.  One of my Lenten goals is to read a few of these Gospel verses each day, and also the associated meditations from the book The Better Part.  If you know anything about the Gospel of St. John, you know it has a heavy focus on love.  The Last Supper Discourse chapters are blunt, deep reflections on what Jesus meant when He said “I love you.”

While reading, I imagined Jesus holding me in His arms as a sign of His deep love.  I thought to say “And I’d love to hold You in my arms also, Jesus.”  But I was quickly taken aback.  My prior Gospel reflections had rarely gotten even to the thought of kissing the feet of Jesus; holding Him in my arms almost sounded sacrilegious.  Even in the Gospels no one did that after He had performed miracles for them. And so, I quickly changed my thoughts to that of holding a Baby Jesus in my arms.  That felt like a more appropriate way to express my love, and so I thought on that for a while.  It was a very good feeling, but …

I suddenly realized that holding a child and loving a child I was holding, are not feelings I can readily relate to.  Not by choice, but I have no children.  It took me some moments to think: Did I ever hold a baby?  Although it’s been a long time, I am sure I had held some of my godchildren or perhaps the child of a friend, but it was long ago.  Despite my limited experiences, holding a baby still filled me with a rush of love when I considered I was holding the Baby Jesus.  My heart melted for Him.  I wonder how much more I might have felt had I had more prior experiences of holding some baby, especially my own.

I was still mellowing in the reflection and feelings of holding a Baby Jesus when my thoughts went to a darker place.  I’ve had limited baby holding experiences, true, but what a loss it must feel like for those who deliberately chose no children through abortion.  How difficult it must be for them to imagine holding a Baby Jesus, with the prior experience of killing their baby.  I think that is another thing I’ll try to meditate on this Lent, as I also pray for an end to abortion.  I’ll pray for those who chose it in a moment of angst.  They chose to reject one of God’s greatest gifts, and now our culture “celebrates” it.

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I write this on March 19^th, the feast day of St. Joseph.  Most pictures or icons or statues I see representing St Joseph show him holding a baby Jesus.  That is both to identify St. Joseph and his unique calling in history, but also to demonstrate what that calling was --- to be a father, one so strong in faith that he was chosen as the father of God on earth.  I think we need to celebrate more visibly the life of St. Joseph, and include more references to him in Christian reflections.  Our society has come to a point where a woman’s “right to choose”, (usually meaning abortion) ignores the father.  In history, fathers used to be the hunters, then the bread-winners.  They were considered most important for families.  Now they are rarely mentioned, and a huge proportion of children grow up without a father in the house.  Even if it is only a religious ideal, I think children need to be taught what a father is, and why God chose one here on earth.  And in all those images of St. Joseph I see, besides holding the Baby Jesus, there is one other noticeable fact that can be emphasized to children: the Baby Jesus is smiling.