Friends, welcome to The Book of Common Words, where we explore the Christian spirituality of being human through poetry and prose about my life, art, and the Christian faith. I’m your writer, Aaron. This publication is 100% reader supported. Thanks for joining me in this exploration.

---

---

It wasn’t a peaceful arrival.

Here, into our sorrows and sins, Jesus was thrust.

Into the arms of a poor, disgraced teenage Jewish girl, Jesus was thrust.

With the blood and afterbirth wiped off his eyes, Jesus began to see what this world he was born into held.

A global pandemic exasperated by some people denying the science of vaccines. The death of black bodies by police becoming an everyday thing, not even newsworthy. Children not even old enough for puberty practice what to do what a shooter enters their school. Christian nationalism becoming more and more mainstream. Right-wing extremists seeking to overturn a democracy the left is too cowardly to uphold. Rampant, growing poverty asking, which is more important, food or rent? The overwhelming greed of a few holding the world in a choke hold of economic instability. War in his homeland, as terrorism and genocide, destroy the innocent calling it collateral damage. Worldwide wars raging on with no sign of stopping, no sign of peace.

Injected into our neighborhoods, Christ was thrust into our world.

Assumed to be a bastard by some, Jesus grew into this world, these tents we call home. Here is the son of glorious light, dingy, covered with dust, our sins nipping at his heels. All because he was born into the world.

We do well to sing of peace on earth to humanity, for peace suckled at the breast of that grace-filled Jewish girl.

As Mary nourished the Prince of Peace, creation began to lean in close, hoping, hoping, hoping that this was the awaited chain breaker. Stars may have risen at this birth, but into darkness, he was born. And in that darkness, the light of the world built his home. Here, with you in your pain, grief, regrets, and willful rebellion. Here, in a systemically corrupt nation—indeed a systemically broken world. Here in famine, plague, war, and death—among the four horsemen of the apocalypse—Jesus was born, choosing the emptiness of incarnation that he might fill the world of our hearts with light.

This is the truth of Emmanuel, The God of the universe with us, sitting in our cold dark nights, bringing light, being life, whispering love.

This is the child—the one thrust empty into all of this that all of this may be filled—that the Magi found. They weren’t looking for an empty child being filled at the breast of its mother. They were looking for a king, for a future ruler, for someone who deserved a portent in the sky. They probably expected a palace and attendants, a wet nurse, and a court to serve this king of the Jews.

Instead, they found the sacred heart of Christ, the heart that burns with love and passion for all the people of this world. The hurt, the outcast, the oppressed are all illuminated by the light of Christ’s heart of love. The proud, the strong, the megalomaniacs are shown for what they are in the refining fire of this sacred heart: they are hurting, weak and lonely. And Jesus embraces them as well.

But they weren’t converted. The Magi came as Persian astrologers, foreigners to Israel and the Roman empire. When they left Bethlehem and returned to the east by another road, the left as Persian astrologers, still foreigners. They weren’t converted to Christianity or even Judaism. They didn’t become worshipers of the God of Israel—even as they paid homage at the feet of the baby Christ. They were gentiles, and they remained gentiles. There was no church for them to join, no reason for them to stay in Judea. They returned home after doing what they came to do, pay homage to the king of the Jews whose star they had seen rise.

Even though they found the sacred heart in that crib, I wonder if they left it in that crib when they returned home. Did they ever think of Christ again? Did Jesus ever cross their mind? Did they remember the star beyond their records of a celestial event? Did they ever discover what exactly that star of glory had led them to?

If only they had been there again, thirty or so years later, at the baptism of that infant now grown. The one whose star they saw rise went into the waters of death and came up with repentance and new life. Would the Magi have heard the voice from heaven calling this babe the beloved of God? The sacred heart, revealed to the world—first to the gentile astrologers, and now to us as the beloved of God.

This child thrust into the world, with his sacred, burning heart of love, is more than just an icon for us to meditate on, more than just a king for us to honor, more than just the answer to a portent in the sky. This child is the beloved of God, the one on whom God’s favor rests.

And this blessed, favored child looks at you, looks at me, looks at us with nothing less than the belovedness that God looks at him with. That is the meaning of this sacred heart that has come, thrust into this world through a Jewish teen girl. This is the love of God, shown to us, given for us, coming to us.

As we enter the waters of baptism, whether for the first time or time again, we embrace the vows of this sacrament. This is not something that happens to us, not a sign that calls us to come and see. This is something we participate in. This is us coming to the water’s edge and saying yes, with God’s help.

Will we continue in the orthodoxy of prayer, of the breaking of bread, of fellowship, and of the apostles’ teaching?
We will, with God’s help.

Will we stay the course in repentance and returning to the Lord when we fall into sin, and persevering in resisting evil?
We will, with God’s help.

Will we proclaim, by word and deed, the good news of God in Christ?
We will, with God’s help.

Will we seek and serve this Christ in all persons, loving our neighbors as ourselves?
We will, with God’s help.

Will we strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being?
We will, with God’s help.

It was with God’s help that Mary could birth the babe Jesus into this world. It was with God’s help the Magi followed the star to find and pay homage to the King of the Jews. It was with God’s help that John baptized Jesus under the thunder of the proclamation of the beloved. It is with God’s help that Christ in us remains in this world, in these darkened tents, shining his light of justice and love—the burning of his sacred heart—to the world.

In the babe, we are given the sacred heart.

Through the signs, we have a choice to find and accept the sacred heart.

Among the baptized, we are received into the sacred heart.

And now, now we are given the task of holding out the sacred heart to the world.

This is the meaning of Christmas and Epiphany. More than just seasons of a church year, together they are telling us the story of a heart of love given to the world and revealed for all to see.

We carry these stories in our traditions, singing Christmas Carols and holding special services for the holidays. But more than that is being asked of us, more than just remembering and keeping the tradition of that remembrance. We are asked to enter into the sacred heart that has come, that has been found, that has been revealed.

Entering the sacred heart isn’t just about accepting the love of Christ. It truly is carrying the baptismal vows with us into the world, into the people for whom Christ’s heart burns for. Will we show people the passionate love of Christ? This is the question each of us must answer. We are the body and blood of Christ to the world, shining the light and offering the life that is the love of God for his beloved people.

How we show up is just as important as showing us. Are we here with God’s help? Or are we colonizing people’s hearts with our power structures and bullying theology? That is not the way of the Sacred Heart. That is not the way of kenosis. That is not the way of Jesus.

Show up, with God’s help. Acknowledge that not only can we not do it on our own, but that we ourselves live in dependency of the grace that burns for us in the heart of Jesus.

When Christ shows us among the disgraced, the oppressed, the hurting, show up there too.

When Magi show up, after seeing a star that led them to this place where Christ is, be there with them.

When people come to the water of death to receive new life, to take the vows of baptism, retake yours with them.

Being with people is how we announce the kingdom of God’s beloved community. It is how we point to what has been given, uncover what has been found, and offer what is given.

---

---