The Nativity: A Tale of Two E's

christian faith personal growth Dec 14, 2021

What words jostle to the front of your mind when you hear “The birth of Christ?” Shepherds? Inn? Angels? Stable? Mary? Joseph? Census? Bethlehem? Star? Kings? Empathy? Envy?

Wait, what? Empathy and envy? Messages about the Incarnation, whether voiced from pulpits, inked on cards, or stamped on clothing, contain familiar words and phrases: miraculous, no room at the inn, peace on earth and goodwill towards men, Savior, magi, and even myrrh.

Empathy and envy are not typical “Top Ten” Christmas terms. Yet these two nouns trumpet two of the Nativity’s greatest teachings.

Herod the Great becomes king of Judea (what is left of it as a nation after centuries of invasions, deportations, and rebuilds) by cultivating the favor of Octavian, also known as Augustus Caesar, the first Roman Emperor. Herod launches massive building campaigns, including the third Jewish temple in Jerusalem, the first two having been destroyed by conquerors. Herod’s temple – a decision of politics, not piety -- will meet the same end.

He lusts for power and understands the volatility of Roman politics, under whose authority he reigns. Thus, when three sophisticated and wealthy men “from the East” arrive inquiring about the birth of a new king, Herod’s threat meter hits the red zone. Oh well, at least it is a baby they are seeking. That will be easy to handle.

Herod’s no simpleton. He is smart, savvy, strategic. Yet in his arrogance, he relies on the naivete of the wise men. He doesn’t send a cohort to accompany the trio. No need to waste resources. They’d return – with the information he needed. He would express his gratitude, wish them well, offer provisions for the return journey, and then, he would take care of the imposter.

Herod doesn’t factor God into his decision, and the price isn’t just paid by him but by others.

He later concludes he’s been “tricked” by the magi – a perspective confirming his thinking orients around himself – and his envy becomes outrage, and his outrage becomes massacre. Death – of hope, relationships, opportunities, reputations, perhaps even life itself – is always the eventual outcome of envy. Herod’s envy led to many murders, not only of the babies in Bethlehem but eventually included his own sons and wife.

Envy is heart kudzu, and Christmas can be fertile soil.

If we compare what we don’t have to what others possess, we plant envy. If our budget constricts our gift buying to less than we’d like, we may fertilize envy. If our family relationships are strained or nonexistent, temptation to water envy pulls intensely.

Yet there’s another E present in the Nativity. Empathy.

Today, this trait is touted in enterprise and education. It is often identified as the #1 “soft skill” for business success and consistently affirmed as a key component of happy relationships. Yet empathy suffers from poor marketing. Associated with tissues, sympathy cards, gentle pats on the hand (pre-Covid), patient listening, and emotional affirmation, the bravery of empathy has been undervalued, and its courage miscalculated.

Even from birth babies display empathy. Toddlers, as a rule, don’t have to be taught it’s inappropriate to laugh when a playmate is hurt. Teens, for all their blustering appearances, yearn to be understood. Listen past the “Leave me alone. I’m fine.”, and you’ll hear deep angst when they feel unheard, unseen, and unknown. Our need and capacity for empathy is hardwired into us humans. The impact of empathy is inexplicable.

But why? What’s the big deal about having someone else weep, shout, celebrate, mourn, fume, or agonize with us? Do our circumstances change? Does a friend celebrating a new job result in our getting a promotion? Does a neighbor listening to our angst over a lost dog bring him home? Does a spouse weeping with us over the loss of a loved one bring her back to life? Do 1,000 social media friends ban loneliness from our lives?

If knowledge is the door to intimacy, empathy is the key.

As Henri Nouwen states in Out of Solitude: Three Meditations on the Christian Life, “When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.”

Why did God choose to come as a baby? Did He need to know what it was like to be a person? Was He uninformed about the human condition? Did He lack awareness of the difficulties, challenges, joys, or desires of the heart?

God didn’t need a human development academic credit. We required an education in empathy.

We needed God in human form. To experience birth, childhood, adulthood. To know friendship and betrayal. Aloneness and the challenges of family dynamics. Public accolades and humiliation. Acceptance and rejection. Gains and loss. Hunger and thirst. Death and resurrection. To learn how to deal with shame.

Ah, shame. The great plague of humankind. We seek to eradicate through numbing, avoiding, erasing, reframing, ignoring, or dismissing. Yet it persists. Until Empathy. Not just any ordinary empathy. But divine empathy, expressed initially in the incarnation.

If shame is the dog guarding the door, empathy is the tranquilizer.

Brené Brown writes in Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead, "Our need for connection with others, elusive and mysterious and inanswerable in only survivalist terms, includes empathy. There is something in this mysterious connection which lightens our burdens and increases our joys. If we can share our story with someone who responds with empathy and understanding, shame can't survive.”

The entire life of Christ, not just his adult “ministry” years, is an example for us. The Nativity models the power and priority of empathy. It is a potent spiritual force, affirmed but not created by modern research. We, as bearers of God’s image, would do well to intentionally develop this skill. It is not a trait only certain people are gifted with. It is deciding. Again and again. Stepping into another’s shoes. Listening to understand, not respond. Being present, not just around. It requires reforming, just as God transformed himself into human form. It requires growing, just as Jesus grew in Mary’s womb for nine months. It requires going through labor.

Emmanuel – God with Us – wasn’t a staid statement of geographical proximity. It was a bold, powerful, majestic, universe-shaking proclamation of empathy! He is here! He has come! Shame, your days are numbered. Fear, you are defeated. Love made visible in response to the invisible needs of every human heart.

One E led to slaughter; one to salvation.

May the E we choose be the latter.

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