The Baby in the Manger

 

“This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” (Luke 2:12)

Twenty-eight-year-old Father Chris Heanue, a newly ordained Catholic priest, had a great idea for the Christmas crèche at Holy Child Jesus Catholic Church in Queens, New York. He planned to follow the liturgical tradition of setting the nativity scene up at the beginning of Advent, but waiting until Christmas Eve to place the figure of the infant Savior in the manger. To make the four-week wait of Advent meaningful to his parishioners, Father Chris planned to fill the manger with dozens of paper tags on which were written gift ideas. Parishioners, many of whom are Latino and Asian immigrants, would be asked to take a tag from the “Crib of Love” and purchase the suggested gift for a poor child or family.

On the Monday morning following the feast of Christ the King, sixty-year-old sexton Jose Antonio Moran began assembling the nativity scene in the front of the church’s nave. Jose had assembled the “stable” portion and figured that adding the figures and scattering the straw could wait until after his daily noon lunch break.

When he returned to the worship space around 1 PM, Jose heard the sound of a baby crying. This was not an uncommon sound at Holy Child Jesus Church, but what startled Jose was the fact that the crying was coming from the crèche. To his total astonishment, Jose (whose name translates as “Joseph” in English), beheld a newborn baby boy, wrapped in a blue towel and lying in the manger. The sexton immediately ran to get Father Chris. The priest called the rescue squad, and the newborn—who was judged to be about five hours old and with his umbilical cord still attached—was taken to the local hospital. He was, apparently, a very healthy newcomer to our planet.

Authorities would later find and identify the baby’s mother. Although no details about her have been released, it is obvious that she gave birth at home. Feeling that she could not care for her child, she left the little one at the church in accordance with New York’s “Safe Haven” law which permits women to surrender newborns for whom they cannot give adequate care to area hospitals, churches, police, or fire stations—no questions asked. I have to wonder about this woman: was she young? Afraid? Too poor to go to the hospital? Overwhelmed by the ordeal? How painful was it for her to part with her child?

We know that she came back to the church the following day to make sure her baby was safe. I, for one, wouldn’t judge her. I feel certain she did what she thought was right. I wonder if, when the angel Gabriel came to give her the startling news, the Mother of Our Lord—young and unmarried—didn’t feel many of the pangs which this mother felt?

When the story of the Baby in the Manger broke, a tidal wave of love flowed from the parishioners of Holy Child Jesus. Father Chris’ phone rang with calls from families wishing to adopt the infant. He would later tell the New York Post, “They felt he was left in the parish and should stay in the parish.” Many of these parishioners are poor like the shepherds to whom the angels heralded the birth of Christ. Many are foreigners like the Magi from the East who came to marvel at Christ. Many are elderly and faithful like Simeon and Anna who longed to see Christ. And, perhaps, in this little orphaned child they actually saw Christ—Christ in compassion and mercy, the very reasons for which he was sent to our suffering world.

There has been much discussion around Holy Child Church as to what to name the little one. Emanuel, “God With Us,” has been a popular suggestion. Father Chris has favored John, after John the Baptist who makes his appearance in the lectionary which precedes Christmas. Some have suggested Jose in honor of the sexton who found the child. Of course, the most obvious name for the baby in the manger might simply be Jesus (pronounced hay-SOOS, of course).

Again, I have to wonder about a child named Jesus who was found in a manger during Advent. What will this little boy think as he grows up and hears the story of his birth? What will he come to believe about himself and the community which has embraced him? Will he feel a certain desire to live up to the image of the gentle healer and Prince of Peace whose nativity so closely resembled his own? I hope so.

But maybe the more important question is what will our response be to this child and all the children born to us today? Will we find that tender compassion for the weak and helpless, and commit ourselves to making a world in which they can grow and live and feel and know the tender embrace of God?

A blessed Christmas to you all. Thanks for reading.