It was mid-November when I began unpacking holiday crates and adorning our home with Christmas decorations. Perhaps it was the ongoing surge of dizzying news that made decorating for Christmas so early sound so enticing—a small bit of joy I could control amidst the uncontrollable chaos of the world. As I unwrapped our little thrifted nativity set and placed the pieces carefully on our hutch, I held the small gold-flecked statue of the Holy Mother cradling her child in my hand for a few seconds longer. I marveled once again at the fact that the baby, sleeping in her arms, wrapped loosely in swaddling clothes, is God in this story.
During the final months of the year, in homes all across the world, statues and other artistic depictions of God are not ones characterized by grandeur, might, and power, but rather of a small, helpless child. Such an incredible paradox—that of God and child, power and powerlessness becoming one—has perhaps become so normalized and sentimentalized that the radical message it brings to humanity may often be overlooked or lost on us entirely. There is no doubt that Christmas is a time when many contemplate the beauty and mystery of the incarnation—the miracle of God becoming human for the sake of God’s beloved creation. Sometimes I wonder, though, if in our songs and celebrations we miss a key message that the baby in the manger brings to us. The babyhood of God is a call to all of us to willingly lay down our own power for the sake of others.
The all-powerful God, the creator of the universe, willingly became the most helpless creature in all of creation: a newborn. God could have manifested on earth as a King, or even a grown man, but instead God willingly gave up all power and embraced utter vulnerability by becoming a baby, entirely dependent on others for his needs and safety and at the very bottom of established social hierarchies of the time. Yet, we often embrace or create hierarchies of our own, sometimes even attempting to control others in the name of God.
Unfortunately, the claim that God grants some people to have power over others is flourishing today, as it has throughout Christian history. Since the beginning of the faith, people have used the name of God as a means to validate their otherwise unjust control over others. The name of God has been used to justify men controlling women, parents exercising dictatorial control over children, kings taking control of someone else’s homeland, white people’s power over non-white people, colonizers’ power over Indigenous people… These abuses have been happening for centuries and take new forms today.
The babyhood of God is a call to all of us to willingly lay down our own power for the sake of others.
But is it possible to actually have God-ordained power over another? I believe that the God-child in the manger gives us a very clear and resounding answer: no. When God became child, our man-made power structures were flipped upside-down. By becoming a newborn child—one who had no real power physically, mentally, and socially, and who would have been subject to the will of his parents, elders, the state, etc.—God ultimately declares all man-made power structures null and void because the one who was supposed to be at the top of the ladder became the one at the bottom, thus leveling the ground between all humanity once and for all. Christ’s voluntary vulnerability—his willingness to give up all power—was a radical dismantling of all supposed God-ordained hierarchies. This willingness to let go of all power for the sake of humanity forever invalidates anyone else’s attempts to hold power over another in the name of God.
Leadership—whether in the Church, in our families, or elsewhere—must always follow the model Jesus set for us during his life on earth. Jesus’ leadership was not based in power over others, but in a responsibility towards them. Yes, during his ministry, Jesus taught others and led them with authority. People followed him and trusted his words. Yet, he never used his influence to rule over others. Instead, it led him to serve others. While God does give some certain responsibilities toward others—such as the Church to her people, parents toward their children, political leaders toward their communities—and while this may seem to be God-ordained hierarchy, it is actually an opportunity for those in positions of leadership to lead through humility and love rather than power and control. There can be no true hierarchy when God—the one at the top of the hierarchy—is the one knelt in the dirt washing feet. In this way, Christ-centered leadership must always lead us to humbly “wash feet” rather than seek to gain control over someone else.
In Matthew 25:40 Jesus proclaims, “Truly I tell you, whatever you do for the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” Christ became oppressed so that there can be no way to justify oppression in the name of God. God became weak and vulnerable so there can be no rightful power over the weak and vulnerable. The way we treat others is the way we treat Christ, and we cannot hold power over Christ.
As the Christmas season quickly approaches, and as the world continues to remain locked in an ever-deepening power struggle, may we look to the tiny boy in the arms of his mother—the God-child who voluntarily laid down all power for the sake of love—and remember that we are called to do the same. May we work toward collaboration over competition, embrace equality over hierarchy, and use our own unique strengths to empower others rather than to gain power over others. The nativity story is one that tangibly reveals to us the shocking reality that God is less like a domineering king and more like a vulnerable, crying baby, and we are forever invited to let the Christ child lead us deeper into vulnerability for the sake of love. This Christmas, may we willingly step into vulnerability and be willing to set down our own power and privilege in order to be a vessel of Christ’s love in the world.
