On the incarnation

Imagine the scene, some nine months prior.

A messenger comes to Mary, a strange greeting: hail, favoured one, the Lord is with you. And then invites her to participate in the process of bringing God into the world.

The creator of all taking on human flesh, the incarnate Son of God. The creator of everything – the stars, the seas, the earth – enters history as a little infant, born of Mary. The one who will bring about redemption and reconciliation of all things enters a relationship of interdependence, vulnerability and humanness. Starting from that place of dependence where all human relationships begin, carried by Mary during her pregnancy, born dependent – needing family and relationships to care for all his needs.

Christ is born in Bethlehem.

When we consider just the incarnation and Jesus’s infant birth, it’s wild to think about the need for these relationships, in a human sense, and it should draw our awe and wonder. And I wonder what happens if we expand our frame to see the broader web of relationships that are needed for Jesus, this babe in Bethlehem, to be fully alive, fully human.

Just imagine, for a second, the microscopic level, the formation of the gut biome. It begins from birth and is essential for the wellbeing of a human being. The gut biome is that community of bacteria, viruses, fungi and other microbes (a thousand different types, trillions of microorganisms) that live in our intestines. This ecosystem is at work hidden inside us, breaking down food, supporting our immune system, and even affecting our mental health. It’s a key part of our body that is also not our body. The gut biome is an ecological system contained in our own organs, shaped and formed by our relationship with the world around us, our family, our ecosystem and our diet. Just imagine Jesus’s gut biome shaped by that manger, by Mary and Joseph, and the family and the air of Bethlehem, all shaping this invisible microscopic eco-community within an infant.

Or imagine the broader geography and ecological system that sustains all of life. Just think about what Jesus ate and how it connected him to animals and grains, vegetables and fruits, wine and water, and even the economic relationships between humans. All of those relationships shaped by the geography and watershed, seasons and weather. Starting from Bethlehem to his time as a refugee in Egypt, back to Nazareth, and throughout his ministry journeys, the Incarnate One lived in places that shaped his reality. Jesus was always integrated into a broader ecosystem, a network of relationships of interdependence. Human, animal, plant, mineral and even the waters all intimately connected through the ordinary actions of life.

St. Athanasius of Alexandria wrote, “He became what we are that he might make us what he is.” (On the Incarnation, 54:3) Which is to say that Christ takes on the fullness of human experience, and all the same dependencies and interrelated relationships, and then shows us, invites us and transforms us into a more excellent way. St. Basil, in one of his prayers, asks, “O God, enlarge within us the sense of fellowship with all living things, our [siblings] the animals to whom you gave the earth as their home in common with us.” And we might even go beyond that as we consider the incarnation and its relationship with all creation, as St. Francis’s canticle evokes the relationship we have with all creatures.

It’s here in the person of Jesus that we see God’s action enfleshed. And yes, it is in the stories of the gospels, in the cross and resurrection, but also in and through the incarnation in its ordinary and its extraordinary ways that we are invited to contemplate and be transformed. The physical reality, the matter of the world, is not in opposition to this revelation but is the very place where we encounter God’s love at work. Anglican eco-theologian Norman Wirzba writes, “The incarnation is God’s affirmation that creaturely life is good, that the world is not an obstacle to God’s purposes but the very place where God’s love is made manifest.” (Food and Faith, pg. 106)

As we see this reality of God’s love present in the incarnation, it reminds us that the incarnation shows us that God can work through the whole of creation. It reminds us of the importance of all these complex relationships and interdependencies that are at the heart of our human experience and our creaturely experience.

At a more profound level, the incarnation, God taking on human flesh, is not just about God becoming human, but God becoming part of creation. In Jesus, we see God’s declaration, God’s love enacted, and we can see that matter matters. God’s saving work in the incarnation is not just for humans but is about all of creation.

As we dwell with this mystery, it invites us to consider how we are connected, as well, to all of creation, to see in our own lives and experiences how we are related and interconnected. And it should ask us questions about how the love of God calls us to care, love and protect creation in all of our lives.

In this season of Advent and Christmas, we look back at the expectant waiting, the longing and hope for this incarnation. We celebrate the mystery of the incarnation, that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us. In our lives, we also look at our world with the same longing and hope for Christ’s return that will set all things right.

And while many of us think about salvation in the frame of our humanity, maybe this Advent and Christmas we might expand our view. What happens if we consider the mystery of the incarnation as a pattern of relationship, one that invites us to live more deeply in that hope of reconciliation, not just with ourselves and God, and other humans, but with all of creation? Perhaps we will see how our faith draws us to love more deeply, and encounter God’s presence meeting us in and through creation as well.