Matthew 2:13-23
Let me tell you a story. It’s from a book called A Single Light, by Maia Wojciechowska. The story takes place in Spain, but it could be anywhere.
There was a small village that had once been important but no longer was; it had once been prosperous but no longer was. A young man in this village went off to the city to find his fortune. He didn’t find a fortune, but he did find a wife – Maria, whom he loved very much – and he brought her home to the village.
Soon she was pregnant, a joyful thing, and gave birth to a child – a girl. Maria loved her child and thought her perfect. She would say, “Look how she never cries! Only angels never cry. My child must be an angel.”
Within a few months everyone in the village knew what Maria couldn’t see – that the child was deaf and mute. She would never hear and she would never make a sound. No one told Maria, though, because ever since the birth she had not been well. It had taken such a toll on her body; she was in fact dying.
Before she died, she held her baby in her arms tightly. Perhaps there was a part of her that knew the truth. She kissed the baby and said, “You are a child of God, and God will take care of you all your life.”
After Maria’s death, her husband turned inward in his grief. He had no love for his daughter; she seemed to him like a curse. There was no kindness shown her from the village either, because she frightened them. She had eyes that seemed to penetrate their souls. She seemed unnatural and they shunned her. Only one woman, Flora, was willing to take this helpless infant and feed her and care for her.
When the girl became old enough, Flora put her in charge of caring for her newborn. Flora’s baby was born weak and sickly; he needed much care. But Flora was poor, like most everyone else in the village, and there was little she could do. She took the bus to the city every day to work at the canning factory. Flora needed help with the baby. And she could see what no one else in the village could see – that the deaf girl could be trusted with the baby. She would love and care for the infant as if he were her own.
And so she did. The girl was the perfect caregiver for this baby. She knew the child’s needs before he even cried out. She was completely devoted to the baby.
One day the baby was even more listless than usual. The girl sensed something was wrong from the moment she lifted the baby out of his crib. But she held him, she tried to feed him, she did all that could be done. By the evening the baby’s heart stopped beating. The baby’s body grew cold and yet the girl would not put him down. She tried to warm him with her own body heat. She couldn’t accept that this child was dead.
Flora didn’t blame her, but the rest of the village did, and now she was more of an outcast than ever before. She was the focal point for all their fears and resentments, and they had so many of those. She found refuge in the village church, where she was at least given bed and board and work to do.
One day while she was scrubbing the floor in the sanctuary, behind the altar, she hit a loose board in the wall. It fell away and she noticed something hidden in there. It was a marble statue of an infant. She pulled it out and held it; it was about the same size as the baby boy she had cared for. Somehow, this stone baby became a comfort to the girl and she returned to it every day. It was the one solace in her life – someone she could love.
At this same time and in another part of the world, there was a man named Larry who was an expert on art. Actually, he was only an expert on one artist – an Italian sculptor named Angellini. Larry had devoted his life to the work of Angellini, and actually, to tell the truth, he had devoted his life to one work by this one artist. Angellini had created a marble sculpture of the holy family, which was on display at the Vatican. It was beautiful, but the child was missing from the statue. It had been stolen many years before and never been found. From the moment he encountered this statue, he felt he had found his purpose. Larry committed himself to finding the missing child.
His research eventually led him to the conclusion that it had probably been taken to Spain. And so Larry spent his days traveling around Spain, visiting every church in every village, in search of the missing stone child.
One day, after many years of searching, his travels took him to this village. He walked into the sanctuary without much hope, tired before he even began. He looked around at all the second-rate statuary in this poor country church. The familiar sense of disappointment arose. The girl was in the sanctuary going about her usual chores, ignoring him. While he looked around, she went behind the altar and pulled out her baby from the hiding place.
This was the bright spot of her days – to hold her baby, to play with him. Some days she would bring him little gifts – things they could play with together, or something for him to wear. As she sat down with the baby this day, the rest of the world faded away for her; she was alone with the child in a world of bliss.
She pulled out a little mirror she had brought him. When you held the mirror up at different angles, you could make lovely colorful prisms on the wall.
Larry was about to leave the church when he saw a dancing colorful light out of the corner of his eye. He followed the light behind the altar and there he saw the girl playing with the marble child. She didn’t see him, she couldn’t hear him, so she had no idea he was there. He stood behind her, silently watching. After a little while, she put her baby back into his hiding place and left.
Larry’s hands trembled as he reached in and took the baby out. He knew it was the marble statue he had spent his life looking for.
At that point – all of the things you fear – all these things happened. Larry was exhilarated! At long last he had found his treasure. Looking for someone to share his excitement, he went to the village bar and told all the men gathered there about his great search and his wonderful find. Everyone immediately starting fantasizing about how this village would once more be important, how it would once more be prosperous, thanks to the finding of this famous statue. This morning, none of them had a clue who Angellini was. This afternoon, they were making plans for the bright future he and his work promised them.
Very quickly, they arranged to have a glass case made so the statue could be displayed safely in the church, and they made a procession of all the important people as they carried it in and set it on the altar. This would make them famous; it would make them prosperous.
The next day as the girl went about her chores, she approached the glass case, curiously, and was stunned by what she saw – her precious baby imprisoned in a box. Without thinking she crashed her hand through the glass. Feeling no pain, she pulled out the marble statue and held it to her body. She ran from the church and kept on running.
The following morning as they prepared for mass the broken case was discovered. They could not believe their eyes; the infant had once again been stolen. The dream of becoming wealthy and famous was only two days old, but now that dream was crushed, and they were angry – more than they had ever been before. All the anger that had built up in them over the years was now exploding. All their resentment was boiling over. They didn’t know how or from whom, but they wanted revenge.
Soon it was discovered the girl was missing too; a search party went out. They didn’t even really know what their intentions were, they didn’t think; they were driven by one motivation: rage.
On their way, the old and the weak were trampled; a shepherd boy escaped within an inch of his life, and at least one man was struck down dead. It would not be too much to say that evil was on the loose.
While the mob was wreaking havoc all over the land, the priest and Larry set out together to find the girl, hoping and praying they would find her before the mob did. Who was this girl? She was nothing but innocence. She had never been loved as a child should be loved yet had so much love to give. For the first time, the priest could see that this girl was a gift that had been given to them; somehow, she knew how to give love. Perhaps she could show them how to love.
And Larry was stricken with horror, looking at what he had unleashed in these people, by his single-minded focus on a stone object. For the first time, Larry could see that his obsession with the statue had alienated him from life, from the possibility of love.
Larry and the priest found the girl before the others did, holding the marble baby. They would protect her from the mob. Yet the question remains to be answered: from this day on, how will the village be ruled? How will they live – by hate or by love? Will they allow love into their hearts, to wash over the hate that is destroying them? Will the love that is in this deaf and mute child be enough?
What do you think?
The Christ does not come to us as a stone figure or a concept or a doctrine. The Christ comes to us as living, breathing humanity – just as he always did. The question for us is: how will we meet him?
Two thousand years ago, the crowds met him with hate. The powers tried to destroy him. But I know we can do better than that.
———————Photo: By Petar Milošević – Kunsthistorisches Museum, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=44535302 ———————————–
