Christmas Poop

Snack-time in the deafblind unit, several days ago. I am supervising Hazem while he enjoys a banana. All of a sudden, his demeanor changes: his brow furrows, his breath quickens, he starts to sweat. He stands up abruptly, then sits down abruptly, up and down, up and down. At first, I have no idea what’s going on.

Then I realize that Hazem is pooping.

Strangely enough, Hazem had never pooped while I was working with him. I know this because I change his diapers at the end of each two-hour session. The head supervisor in the deafblind unit smells the situation and tells me that it won’t do to wait until the end of the two hours. So, Hazem and I go to the bathroom. 

For the first few weeks, changing the diapers of this 13-year-old boy felt pretty awkward. Now, I’m used to it. At least I’m used to number one... 

Immediately after I help Hazem pull down his pants and take off his diaper, both of his hands fly to his butt, and before I can intervene, Hazem’s hands and the toilet seat are covered in poop. With much effort, I manage to keep it off of his face and me. The disaster lasts ten minutes.

It’s easy to love happy Hazem. It’s harder to love pooping Hazem. 

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This is a Christmas story. 

God’s love for Hazem, unlike mine, does not momentarily cease when happy Hazem becomes pooping Hazem. Nor does God need to make an effort to love pooping Hazem, as I do: God effortlessly loves any and every Hazem, just as God effortlessly loves any and every human, in any and every circumstance. Because our God is love. 

And Love came down at Christmas time. 

Not far from where I now sit, Love came down and entered into the filth of childbirth, of barn animals, of sin. And then, Love died on a cross to make all things clean, all things new.

The cross... Perhaps “effortless” is not the right word. 

“Effortless” in that it is God’s nature to love, and thus God never tries to be loving. But God so willed that love, all true love, costs. Love labors. Love suffers. 

Make no mistake, friends: we serve a suffering God. 

And it is because we serve a suffering God that we can embrace and celebrate the (otherwise bizarre and disturbing) Gospel narratives of Emmanuel’s birth. 

So let’s celebrate.

Blessings on your Advent.