Vulnerable Babies and Toppling Rulers From Their Thrones
By Greg Cook
My peaceful sleep is abruptly upended by the cry of my one-year-old child. Their wails pierce the quiet darkness. I take a few deep breaths and stumble out of bed, open the adjoining bedroom door, scoop Callum into my arms. Their crying subsides, I collapse into a chair, Callum’s head on my chest. The moment is both tender and exhausting. I really need some sleep, but the toddler’s dependence and vulnerability supersedes my own needs.
Having my first child has been an all-consuming experience. Responding to the profound needs of such a small human has forced me to put aside previous ways of organizing my life and prioritize the basic needs of a baby: food, gentle care, and diapers. So many diapers.
Being tender to another human who is so inextricably dependent on you has a way of softening the heart. This is both a gift and a hazard in my line of work. Full shelters that turn away hundreds everyday, rent that is much too expensive for thousands, the death of dozens of close friends forces one to anesthetize one's heart from so much preventable suffering.
This is the state of my heart as I enter this Advent season. My eyes are more attuned to what it might have been like for Mary and Joseph and a vulnerable baby to flee from their home, barely escaping a genocidal government. Forced to seek asylum from a violent Empire. A poor family coerced to leave their home and take an arduous journey.
Matthew 2:13-14
When they had gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. “Get up,” he said, “take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him.” So he got up, took the child and his mother during the night and left for Egypt.Shelter is rare, let alone true welcome – somewhere where all of you is welcomed – your story, your gifts, your struggles, your pain.
Two thousand years later, babies are being killed in Palestine and many families are fleeing south to escape death. Times are dark. In Toronto, thousands of asylum seekers can’t find housing they can afford. All three levels of government are knowingly abandoning them to sleep in crammed shelters or in mosques or in church buildings or outside on a park bench during the winter.
In these times, I am challenged by the words of Mary. She is a young and pregnant woman; soon, she will have to flee to Egypt. She sings a song filled with courage and profound insight. It contains both tenderness and strength.
The British colonial rulers in India understood the power of Mary’s words and their demand for justice. So they banned the song from being read in church. These words are prophetic. I encourage you to contemplate these words with us as we enter this busy and often tiring Advent season.
Luke 1:46-53
And Mary said:
My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour, for he has been mindful of the humble servant. From now on all generations will call me blessed, for the mighty one has done great things for me.
Holy is his name. His mercy extends from generation to generation. He has performed mighty deeds with his arm; he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts. He has brought rulers down from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things. But has sent the rich away empty.
