A Sublime Christmas Meditation of Hope

A meditation is not just about a visual perspective of something; it is also about emotional resonance with the subject of the reflection.

Thus, when meditating on Christmas, you need to consider which version of a Christmas scene brings joy to your soul. Which angle makes you feel truly connected to what is happening. With that backdrop in mind, consider three distinct ways to view the nativity of the Child Jesus—His Grandeur, His accessibility and His compassion.

Picture yourself as one of the Magi. What a joy it would be to enter that grotto! You see the Virgin Mary, Saint Joseph and the Child Jesus. Imagine arriving just as the Three Kings approach. The procession is grand, the camels are laden with treasures, and King Balthazar is there with the others from the East. Upon arrival, everyone is on their knees before the Christ Child.

Our Lord’s Infinite Grandeur

First, contemplate Our Lord’s infinite grandeur. Imagine the grotto not as a damp cave but as a space so vast it feels like a cathedral carved out by nature in anticipation of the Gothic arches that would later appear in the Middle Ages. At the center of these majestic aisles lies a manger, with a golden, supernatural light hovering over the Christ Child.

Here is the supreme paradox: Our Lord is an infant, yet He possesses the majesty of a true King, for He is the King of kings. He is the Creator of Heaven and Earth, the infinite God made man. From the very first moment of His existence—even in the womb—He possessed a grandeur that dwarfs every human who has ever lived.

He is the absolute Truth that, as an infant, was incomparably more brilliant than Saint Thomas Aquinas, more powerful than Charlemagne or Napoleon, and vastly more knowledgeable than any modern scientist who claims to understand the universe.

Occasionally, this grave majesty—comprised by wisdom, holiness and infinite power—would flash across His infant features. Imagine catching a glimpse of that face! He moves, and you perceive a Divine monarch. He opens His eyes, and you see the depth of a sage. The atmosphere around Him is so filled with holiness that you feel you should apologize for your very existence before approaching Him. Yet, you are magnetically drawn to amend your life simply by being near Him.

And there is Our Lady at His feet. She is tender, maternal and majestic. She is a true Queen, radiating an immeasurable dignity that required no silk or jewels to make itself known. Now amplify this consideration by imagining the transcendent majesty of the Virgin Mother praying to her Divine Son, with invisible choirs of angels transforming that grotto into a royal court.

As a faithful Catholic who loves and admires nobility and order, you are drawn to this scene. You adore the Child who repels chaos, error and disorder simply by His existence. In this scene, the world’s disorderliness dares not enter; only hierarchy, splendor and order remain.

His Infinite Accessibility

Now, pivot to a completely different consideration.

Picture the Child Jesus as infinitely accessible. That King with His terrifying majesty turns and opens His adorable eyes. He looks directly at you. His gaze is lucid and pure, cutting right through your defenses to the bottom of your soul. He sees your worst sins, everything you hide, especially from yourself. But He also sees your qualities—the potential He placed in you when He created you, and He calls you to Himself.

It is a gaze that touches the soul profoundly, much like the gaze He gave Saint Peter thirty-three years later, after he betrayed Him. That gaze was so profound that it caused Saint Peter to weep for the rest of his life. Our Lord’s gaze fills us with horror of our faults, yet it also reveals an infinite, divine love for us as His creatures. He loves you despite your defects because He knows the capacity of your holiness.

Then, just when you expect judgment to fall upon you, He smiles. Suddenly, the distance vanishes. Forgiveness floods your soul. You feel Him embracing you, calling you by your name, saying, “I have loved you so much. I forgive you. Forget the past; just serve Me now. When you doubt, ask My Mother, and I will be your strength.”

This is the accessibility of God, which is a bridge across an infinite gap.

His Infinite Compassion

Finally, imagine His mercy. The Child Jesus is not just assessing your moral standing; He is looking at your sadness. He sees humanity’s miserable condition. He sees the suffering you carry from the past, the pain you feel right now, and the trials awaiting you in the future. He sees you walking close to the precarious cliff of eternity, where you risk losing your soul.

He looks at you with deep compassion. He desires to take that pain away, if possible, or to give you the strength to bear it, if necessary, for your sanctification.

There is a profound comfort in being pitied. It is a quirk of human nature. When you share joy, it doubles. When you share sadness, it divides. Our Lord offers the ultimate division of sorrow. In every bitter cup, you have to drink, He whispers, “My child, I suffer with you. Let’s do this together. I have suffered for you, and one day, you will share eternally in My joy.”

All perfections existed in Our Lord. All perfect states of the soul coexisted, in different degrees and ways, according to the circumstances of His life in His human nature. He was full of majesty, accessibility, approachability and compassion for mankind from the very moment He came into the world. It is natural that, even though He was a Child, sometimes one aspect and sometimes another would manifest itself, depending on the souls that approached Him.

Here are three reflections on the Child Jesus for this Christmas season. Consider His Infinite Majesty, infinite accessibility and boundless compassion. Hold these reflections close to your heart as we approach Christmas.

The Holy Catholic Church is vast and has many spiritual schools. All are splendid. Follow what your soul asks of you. Be exactly who God made you to be, and let the mystery of Christmas meet you there.

This article was a meeting of a Saint of the Day on December 12, 1973 and adapted for publication.