P. Ctirad Václav Pospíšil, OFM
When I stood as a young boy with my very devout mother in front of the statue of the loving Infant Jesus, I could not help but feel conflicting emotions. The Baroque little prince dressed in beautiful clothes and burdened with badges of royal dignity certainly did not remind me of the Son of God, who was born poor and insecure somewhere in a stable on the outskirts of great world history.
Moreover, my unfortunate experience with the secular power of the totalitarian regime further discredited the loving statue in imperial robes in my eyes. The humiliated and persecuted church, stripped of foolish self-praise and self-importance, was much more sympathetic to me and had a much more credible impact on me than the pompous Baroque ecclesiastical triumphalism associated with the grandeur of the ruling house. No wonder that the child Jesus as understood by Francis from Greccia was much closer and more understandable to me.
After a number of years, I miraculously found myself studying in Rome, where I was captivated by the theology of the cross. One of the courses I chose focused on a detailed analysis of what the evangelist John says about the crucifixion of Jesus. It is certainly not uninteresting that this moment of shame, dreadful humiliation, and disgrace (Heb 12:3) is depicted in his account as the enthronement of the eschatological king. In the two chapters dedicated to the Lord's suffering, the word "king" appears a total of twelve times. While other writings of the New Testament speak of Jesus' exaltation in connection with his resurrection and ascension (e.g., Phil 2:9–11), in connection with the fact that he now sits as a ruler at the right hand of God the Father (e.g., Mark 16:19), for the Disciple whom the Master had a special affection for, Jesus' exaltation - enthronement occurs already at the hour of the crucifixion (cf. John 3:14; 12:32).
Much is also suggested by the way John describes the scene of Jesus' crowning with thorns (cf. John 19:1ff). For example, nowhere does it say that Jesus took off the purple robe, and thus the perceptive reader gets the impression that the Galilean ascended to Golgotha dressed in royal attire. When we read the seventeenth verse of the nineteenth chapter in Greek, we find an unusual phrase, which we can express in Czech by saying that Jesus carried the cross for himself. He did not bear it like any other condemned person to death, but as a king who flaunts the badge of his power. Thomas Aquinas, in his commentary on the Gospel of John, says: "Christ carries the cross like a king carries his scepter, as a sign of his glory, his universal sovereignty... He carries it just as a warrior carries his victorious trophy." (Super Ioannem, Torino 1952, p. 2414).
The eyes of the contemplative person can thus glimpse in the depths of dreadful humiliation motivated by immense love and filial obedience the true measure of unspeakable glory. After all, the world is capable of admiring those who have overcome immense difficulties and terrifying risks on the path to victory. The measure of humiliation in relation to subsequent exaltation is the true depth of glory, as, for example, Bonaventure understands it. Indeed, one only needs to realize that the Son of God ascended as "high" as he had previously descended "low".
Glory can thus be measured as if "from below" or from "the bottom". God can renounce the radiance that is absolutely inaccessible to man out of love for humanity. He can, as it were, strip himself of the robe of his glory (cf. Phil 2:6–7; John 13:1ff). Nevertheless, even in this, his magnificent majesty paradoxically manifests itself, this time naked and without the usual attributes, which are not the essence of that glory, identical with love and pure being itself. The humiliation - exaltation of the Crucified reveals the true depth of the personal identity of the Son of God (cf. Mark 15:39).
The voluntary self-giving of Jesus of Nazareth, which is a human act of the obedient Son, is preceded by the self-giving and voluntary humiliation of the Son of God at the incarnation. Here too, we may gaze with the eyes of contemplation on the magnificence of God's naked glory in the humiliation of defenseless and dependent childhood. The same logic of love reveals, according to John's pattern, the royal dignity of the Newborn. Therefore, that Boy dressed in the royal robe of God's love, which does not fear even the most dreadful human misery, human pain, or even human unfaithfulness and human sin. Thus, that Boy burdened with the royal insignia of a suffering capable humanity (cf. Rom 8:3).
Not everyone among us is capable of seeing with the eyes of contemplation the paradoxical manifestation of the omnipotent loving God and the profound measure of his glory in the depths of humiliation. The loving statue of the Infant Jesus wants to help us in this much like the icon of the Crucified - the Glorified, as we see it in Assisi. It is the famous cross from the church of St. Damian, before which Francis prayed so fervently and from which, according to legend, Christ spoke to him. Today, we find this cross in the Assisi church of St. Clare. Therefore, the fundamental difference between the Infant Jesus of Greccia and the Prague loving statue is essentially the same as the difference between the description of the Lord's suffering according to Mark and according to John. Both perspectives are correct, true, and have the same goal: to move our innermost being to resonate with the pulse of the loving heart of the Son of God.
