New born babies are a wonderful miracle! As you gaze at the sleeping innocent infant, the miracle, is, that all the future potential and personality lies waiting to develop in that tiny, peaceful, slumbering body. We are overwhelmed by how fragile, and vulnerable that small human being is, and how dependent on us they are. And then at some hour, or maybe , even hours, when the majority of sensible people are tucked up, asleep, a piercing roar will shatter the ears of their exhausted parents, and it will be feeding time – again! Such is the power of a baby.
I have a large collection of crib sets from all over the world – Israel, Peru, Uganda, Germany, France, South Africa, Kenya – even one from Poundland! In every one, Jesus is sleeping, either in Mary’s arms, or more usually, in a manger. Not one of them depicts Jesus screaming his head off! And yet that is a default position for many new born babies! So did Jesus ever cry? Of course he did! God incarnate, Emmanuel, God with us, he surely was – but fully human too – ‘tears and smiles, like us he knew’.
Most years I sing Benjamin Britten’s ‘Ceremony of Carols’ in a Scratch choir, but not this year, sadly. One of my favourite songs from it is ‘This Little Babe’, which has exciting an rhythm and harmonies, and medieval words that aptly describe the power of a baby – but not any baby – this is God’s Son, Jesus, Emmanuel, God with us.
This little babe so few days old,
Is come to rival Satan’s hold
All hell doth at his presence quake,
though he himself for cold do shake;
For in this weak unarmoured wise
the gates of hell he will surprise.
With tears he fights and wins the field,
his naked breast stands for a shield.
His battering shot are babish cries,
his arrows looks of weeping eyes.
His martial ensigns Cold and Need,
and feeble flesh his warrior’s steed.
His camp is pitched in a stall,
his bulwark but a broken wall;
The crib his trench, haystalks his stakes,
of shepherds he his muster makes.
And thus as sure his foe to wound,
the angels’ trumps alarum sound
My soul with Christ
join thou in fight;
stick to the tents
that he hath pight.
Within his crib
is surest ward;
this little Babe
will by thy guard.
If thou wilt foil thy
foes with joy, then
flit not from this
heavenly boy!