Baby Smiles

Luke 2:22-40

I feel guilty, the way Joseph indulges me. The baby is six weeks old; I’m perfectly capable of walking the few hours from Bethlehem to Jerusalem! But he insists I ride the donkey, at least most of the way. I admit I love to just sit and gaze down at my baby. He’s so cute! I know all mothers think their babies are the cutest, but I’m pretty sure I’m right.

“Nothing, Joseph, just laughing at myself. Don’t you think our baby is cuter than all other babies?”

Joseph’s sun-burned grin is one of my favorite things about him. “Well, of course!” he agrees, and walks on. The donkey plods patiently beside him. I keep on staring down at my baby’s face, trying to memorize it. He changes so fast. Look how filled out he already is. I can hardly remember what he looked like when he was all scrawny and wrinkly, in the stable. Oh, that night! I can’t think of it without a shudder. But then the shudders are overtaken by chills of wonder, remembering the stories the shepherds told. I wish I could have heard the angels sing!

But I shouldn’t be greedy. After all, Gabriel himself talked to me!

It’s kind of funny. I have lots of friends who have babies, and I know this feeling of awe, of staring into the face of a brand-new human and trying to memorize it, is universal among mothers. We all talk about how they change, and grow, and how we know them, but don’t…so at first, my thoughts are the thoughts of every mother. But then it always turns to a different kind of awe. Remembering Gabriel’s announcement to me, and the pain and division that brought, and then Joseph’s dream, which set everything straight. It hardly seems true, though I feel ashamed to admit it. But then there were those shepherds…

Yeshua wakes suddenly, looks up at me, and smiles widely, a new skill he enjoys tremendously. “Oh, look, Joseph! Look at him smile!”

Nearly three hours have passed by the time we reach the city, and we must find a place to stay and prepare our best Sabbath clothes for the ceremony tomorrow. This is a ceremony I’ve looked forward to since I was a little girl. A woman, a wife, justifies her existence by producing a son, especially by producing him first. Joseph is very proud of me. Of course, I am an indulged wife, and I know Joseph would be proud of me even if I’d had daughters, or no children at all. But I’m deeply grateful to God for a son. I wish we could afford a lamb instead of just two doves. Joseph says the Holy One knows our hearts. Anyway, he points out, no sacrifice would be worthy enough to redeem the life of God’s own Son!

I look down at my baby again. He looks so ordinary, gazing around at movement and light. Just another baby…

The next day, bathed, anointed, and dressed in our very best, with my mother’s borrowed necklace adorning the baby as is traditional, we stand before the priest. Joseph holds Yeshua and says to the priest, “This is my firstborn son. He is the first out of his mother’s womb.”

There are more prayers, then the priest takes the baby, holds him up, and intones the blessing: "May the Lord make you as great as Ephraim and Menasheh. May the Lord bless you and keep watch over you; May the Lord make His Presence enlighten you, and may He be kind to you; may the Lord bestow favor on you, and grant you peace. May the Lord guard you from all evil, and guard your soul. Let many days and years of life and peace be given to you."

His tone of voice is matter-of-fact, even bored. He does this all the time—just another baby…

A disturbance arises nearby and I turn my head, startled. An old man, his face alight with an unearthly joy that reminds me of Gabriel, is hurrying toward us. Just as the priest is about to hand Yeshua back to his father, this man takes him instead and cries out, almost weeping, "Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel."

I am standing there with my mouth open while this man blesses my baby. Suddenly, he turns to me and his eyes pin me like a spear. In a quiet, intense voice, he adds, "This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too."

I feel a shiver of fear and reach for my child. But the excitement isn’t over yet. Many people are already looking our way, and more begin to gather when an even older woman I have seen in the temple before comes over, takes one look at the child in the old man's arms, and begins to sob praises and thanks to God. She cries out to the onlookers that all those who are looking for the redemption of Israel should take note of this baby. Some come closer, craning to look at Yeshua, who has been awakened by the tumult and turns his toothless baby grin on one and all.

I watch the faces. The priest and some others looked irritated a minute ago. Some looked curious. Some looked excited. But when they look at his little face and he smiles, not a one is able to keep from smiling back. Faces all around me are softening, hands are reaching to touch his curled fingers, some voices are cooing nonsense to him. A few are praying, echoing the old man and woman.

The shiver of fear is turning to a shiver of awe and a…what can I call it? A presentiment. A feeling that already, he is changing the world around him, and things will never be the same.