I live in midtown Manhattan amid a forest of tall buildings—
with many more under construction. Wandering among these
massive structures, some with impressive cranes pricking the
sky, can make a person feel insignificant by comparison—small,
vulnerable.

I was present the dreadful day when two of the tallest
buildings came crashing down in a deadly conflagration at the
end of my island home on infamous 9/11. The magnificent city
built from human ingenuity had become a target uncovering
our formerly disguised vulnerability. Everyone felt it. In the
days that followed, churches clogged with scores of those who
had not set foot in one for a long while. This newfound en masse
religious awakening did not last; but at the time, New Yorkers
shared an experience of our fragile condition.

We all have occasions when circumstance underscores the
precarious nature of our situation as creatures fashioned of frail
flesh. And this was true for the early Christians. Paul found his
way into prison and martyrdom; so too did many other followers
of The Way. But in the meantime he rests confidently within
God’s imagination, telling his friends that God alone “is able to
strengthen you according to my gospel and the proclamation of
Jesus Christ.”

We read this doxology in Advent to help ignite our own
imaginations about the true nature of Bethlehem’s child. We feel
at risk when we consider our particular precarious situation, but
this child will prove the antidote to our fear, for he will take on
the burden of human weakness so that we can find strength to
live with confident hope in the face of every adversity. This great
truth calls us to embrace our better selves while kneeling in the
straw cradle-side in Bethlehem.