drawn into mystery

On Tuesday night, my monk prayed that we would be "drawn into the mystery of Christmas." He's reading a book on the incarnation and delving into it. I'd envisioned a more spiritual, transcendental experience as the answer to the prayer. But, it was earthy... very earthy, which lacks any irony considering the incarnation. I fight the Word made flesh as a concept and in my everyday life. The mystery of Christmas struck me in several ways.

I was given the task of the family toast in which I made an obvious connection. While I was brainstorming about "family" and my family, the geneology of Jesus popped into my head. 14 generations to David, 14 generations to the exile, 14 generations to Christ were choreographed by God. They didn't know what would become of their bloodline. Jesus was born into a Story, and as I walked, I realized that we are too. Family is such an amazing, awesome and humbling thing. We are intimately connected to people that we didn't choose; they were chosen for us. It reminded me of the scene in A Wrinkle in Time:
Mrs. Whatsit compares life to a sonnet:

"Calvin: You mean you’re comparing our lives to a sonnet? A strict form, but freedom within it?

Yes. You’re given the form, but you have to write the sonnet yourself. What you say is completely up to you."

Another connection along the same lines (strict rhythm or meter) came through looking at family traits. There are the obvious ones: our coloring, our build, our height. With cousins, it's cool to see how genetics play out... how our dad's affected our moms' gene pool. There's also the personality factors: the first borns of both generations have a lot in common, we're all too sensitive, etc., we all like to laugh and willing to act the fool. But, my observations of my genetic traits intertwined with the sermon I heard last night about our only hope being Jesus, specifically, Jesus who lives in and is transforming us. Perhaps, the fruits of the Spirit are analgous to genetic traits in us. The mystery is an invitation to live in a story so much bigger than I am-- to look at life as gift and all my genetic limitations as a canvas for Jesus to manifest himself in my life. It's the freedom to live a hobbit's life concrete and cheery.

The mystery of the why of Christmas is what I found most gripping. My very American why that pops up regularly. Technically, Jesus granted salvation to people before his death on the cross. Jesus afterall is Life. But it was supplanted by awe. Afterall, it is mystery. Most of the time I'm so wrapped up in the gifts (either fascinated or disgruntled), that they eclipse the Giver. The ecology/economy/architecture of God's heart was written into history with the birth of Christ through Mary. And the mystery happens every day through me even though I resist it and feel it an inconvenience and violation of freedom.