Babies like to be swaddled. Who knew?
Okay, maybe you knew, but I didn’t. I don’t have children. I have never been responsible for the care of a newborn. Swaddling, to me, is an academic subject.
Apparently wrapping babies up snugly (snuggly?) in cloths soothes them. It warms them. Maybe it reminds them of the womb. Swaddling, with due caution of course, seems to be a good thing.
She gave birth to her firstborn child, a son, wrapped him snugly, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the guestroom. (Luke 2:7 CEB)
The knowledge of swaddling must have been passed down from mother to daughter, generation to generation, until it reached Mary of Nazareth. Despite the trying circumstances under which she gave birth to Jesus, Mary cared for him as best she could, swaddling him, comforting him, nourishing him, protecting him, loving him, and laying him down in a manger to sleep.
Jesus came into the world like every one of us: naked, helpless, needful of food, clothing, shelter, and love which Mary. and Joseph too I’m sure, provided.
The great scandal of the Christian faith is our proclamation that, in this tiny, dependent infant resting in a feed box, God has come to be with his people. And again, God is revealed to us in the helpless man, stripped, beaten, dying, affixed to a cross.
This is where humanity and deity, history and eternity, heaven and earth meet.
Not in great shows of power, not with muscle flexing demonstrations of might, but in a swaddled newborn our God has come to us.
Christmas blessings to you, dear reader.