Christmas Credo
Those who have suffered child abuse have the makings of proto-split personalities. I am aware of different well-developed modes of my personality. There is what I call the Majordomo who wants to be in protective control. There is also the crying chld who just wants to be loved and cared for, the part of me that has been sacrificed by the Majordomo's ambition. The biblical story of the slaughter of the innocents is horrifying on a social scale, but there is a sense in which the Herod in all of us slaughters our innocent one, whose inability to die as the core of our personality, saves us as a child of God beloved by Jesus, God's Child. |
Beyond the protective guard of Herod
who wants nothing more than to be in control out of fear of being dethroned by what cannot be explained-- the divine mystery at the heart of it all-- lies a little child, helpless, yet full of all power. The old story is true at depths beyond language, testified to by prophecies continually being fulfilled, with storied words to help us see the child inside who cries cries for me, with Wisdom’s knowing that, even in some twisted way, the one who rules with all demand thinks she rules for me. This One new born has borne me in all my helpless power while I waited in darkness for hope of light that didn’t come to save in the way I, in my desire for control, commanded. Yet once again the ancient wisdom of story comes to birth at last in the little Child who leads us all (as little christs) beyond our Herods within by going straight into the adders’ den to embrace, as Lamb, our devouring wolves until killed by death’s poisonous sting. The Child who cannot die transforms all through understanding the ravening, though not by the violence itself, as some suppose and teach and kill. Instead, she offers all to be taken in by our ritual remembering and consummation in the confusing Mystery’s embrace of grace, and wolves, while still wildly seeking independent control, become domesticated into wily companions and devotion’s friend. Now here, at the cusp of this new day dawning, face to face again with my child who lay cold and buried by grandiose Herodian dreams, I understand better Love’s sacrifice in this child willing to be sacrificed for me to aid in love what must be at last-- the quelling of Herod’s governing guard and rule of fear that swallows all in death. © 2006 Tess Lockhart. All rights reserved. |