"the babe of healing..."

"I am waiting
in a silent prayer..."

A friend's recent post on Facebook reminded me of an early December night, many years ago.  It was a time when all I wanted was a baby to love, to hold, and to cherish.

I'd called a friend and mentor during one of my darkest moments. I poured out my heart's sorrow. I could actually feel the compassion that filled the pregnant silence. It was as palpable as a hand reaching through the darkness. Soon, my weeping stilled, and my breathing evened.

Then, when he knew I was ready to listen, he asked me if I was ready to give birth to the most precious babe on earth -- the babe of Christian healing. I knew he was referencing a passage by Mary Baker Eddy from an article titled, "The Cry of Christmas-tide," published in her collected Miscellaneous Writings 1883 - 1896:

"Unto us a child is born,
unto us a son is given.

"In different ages the divine idea assumes
different forms, according to humanity’s needs.
In this age it assumes, more intelligently
than ever before, the form of Christian healing.
This is the babe we are to cherish."
 

He reminded me that, more than ever before, this was the babe I needed to cherish -- not just for myself, but for the world.

Then, he gently suggested that I return to a series of twenty-four questions and answers that make up the entire curriculum for Eddy's course on Christian Science healing. Questions that are found in the chapter "Recapitulation," from her primary work, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures. Beginning on page 465 and concluding on page 497 we are given a path for seeking -- and finding -- healing. Twenty-four questions on thirty-two pages.

He told me that each December, he did this himself. He took one question per day and studied her answer. Then he pondered how he might answer that same question, based on what he had experienced as a healer throughout the year.

He assured me that these next precious days of gestation would bring forth this "babe," and I would be ready to cherish it with my whole life's purpose. These questions would prepare my heart. They were the promise of a new birth.

So, I did. And I still do. Each December 1st, I begin with the first question: "What is God?" I deeply consider Eddy's simple, cogent, complete, and profound answer.  Then I ask myself, "Based on what you have learned this year, what is God to you?" 

You see, I long to know God, myself.  

I am profoundly grateful for Mary Baker Eddy's waymarks as she chronicled her own journey towards a deeper understanding of what it means to "know the Lord." 

But I don't want to simply read her travel diary, and look at her photos -- I want to go where she has gone.  I long to feel that landscape under my feet.  To breathe that holy air.  And by revisiting those questions -- and then searching my heart for answers that ring with a true tone -- I align myself with the I AM THAT I AM.  For me, it is one of the most holy traditions of the season.

Last night, I couldn't wait to begin this year's season of expectancy, gestation, and birth. In fact, I was so eager that I rose just after midnight and took up that first question. The brevity and clarity in her answer took my breath away:

Question. — What is God?

Answer. — God is incorporeal, 
divine, supreme, infinite Mind,
Spirit, Soul, Principle,
Life, Truth, Love.
 

And as I pondered my own journey --  with that question as a spiritual waymark -- my heart opened to new views. What a revelation! Everything that I've discovered about God's allness, power, and grace this year has deepened my trust in the spiritual reality of all things.  It has informed my understanding of healing.  Over and over again, it has been my spiritual anchor in moments self-doubt and uncertainty. I wrote down my most current answers to that first question, and filled page-after-page, long into the night.

Tomorrow I will take up the second question. Then the third. And each day I will feel this babe grow stronger in me -- again.

For me, this Christmas exercise -- first practiced over 25 years ago -- was (and is) life-transforming. It has continued to renew and refresh my understanding of how to realize the healing presence of God. In fact, I find myself repeating it throughout the year.  And although I've been blessed with inestimable joy in parenting each of our children, it is this "babe of Christian healing," that has filled my heart with purpose, and brought unfathomable peace when my womb felt empty.

From experience, I know that on December 25th I will be looking into the face of this beloved babe. I will see this healing Christ in the unwavering spiritual innocence of universal humanity. This is the babe that I will hold close, and never let go of.  This is the babe that will never let go of me.

And each day as I ponder these questions I will be waiting, as Amy Grant sings in "Breath of Heaven," in a silent prayer for the birth this babe in my own heart.

For me, this is the great gift -- healing.  It is what we all seek.  To know that we are whole, well, complete in the All-in-allness of God's great love.   Or, as Mary Baker Eddy promises in "The Cry of Christmas-tide:"

"This is the babe we are to cherish.

This is the babe
that twines its loving arms
about the neck of omnipotence,
and calls forth infinite care
from His loving heart."
 

offered with Love,

Kate

'Breath of Heaven"

"...Do you wonder
As you watch my face
If a wiser one, should have had my place
But I offer-all I am
For the mercy-of your plan
Help me be strong
Help me be
Help me...

Breath of Heaven
Hold me together
Be forever near me
Breath of Heaven..."
- Amy Grant

As we move into this Christmas season, it just seems so important to keep in mind what we are really celebrating,  and how relevant it is in our lives today.  To celebrate the birth of a baby in a manger, without an appreciation for  his mother's journey towards that manger...and where it would lead us all...would be heartbreaking to me. 

"Breath of Heaven," was written by Amy Grant, but the version sung by Sara Groves, tears me apart.  The clip in the first link is Amy's performance and the video sticks to the nativity story, but the second video, paired with Sara's extraordinary recording, although a bit rough and dramatic, underscores the human passion and pathos of the larger story.  Both are moving.  I love them each for different reasons.  I do think that Sara's vocals are as hauntingly beautiful in this context, as Barber's Adagio for Strings is in the context of the crucifixion...but that's another post.

I had been listening to these recordings before church tonight, and after the service, I was talking with a friend about our work as spiritual healers...care-givers, practitioners, nurses, hymn singers, writers, painters, and prophets...those who hope to bless the human family with "crumbs of comfort from Christ's table, be it with song, sermon, or science."  And I realized, that every day, in our own way, we live this story.  We are surprised by the humble privilege of this holy work.  We know that we never could have chosen this path for ourselves, but are gratitude-sent into a life of service to our Father-Mother God by a holy calling. 

I don't know one spiritual healer who thinks he, or she, is "all that." Not one that enters this work through the portal of pride, self-certainty, or ambition. It is a deep hunger to serve Him that sings through our hearts. And the lovely, humbling truth is, that we know, with all our being, that anyone, and everyone, can do this work.  The fullness of love required to see the Christ in another, is deeply rooted in every man, woman and child.  Devoting our lives to this work, we, like Mary and Joseph, sleep with angels who whisper a calling, and a promise, in the dark.  And upon awakening, we must be willing, every day, to open ourselves to the birth of something fresh, unexpected, and deeply moving within our hearts.  We are asked by our divine Employer to surrender the body of our lives to His purpose for us. 

Like that young couple, we walk through the desert of human hopes (usually our own), to find that there is little room for us in the busy-ness of a "world as cold as ice," a village that measures worth by the hierarchy of accomplishment, accumulation, and acclaim. We turn from its beckoning doorway and search out the silent welcome of a manger, and in its humble, simple, stillness something new, and healing, and transformative is born in us.  Angels hover and kings kneel before this babe of Christian healing.  And we are amazed that we are there...among wise men and shepherds...to witness the advent of His gift "on earth peace, good will to men," and the gospel message of, "The kingdom of heaven is within you."

This happens over and over again in the life of a spiritual healer...every spiritual healer.  Our work demands a manger...not a busy inn, a charming bed & breakfast, or a sophisticated hotel.  Our music is the simple song of angels...hymns, gospels, lullabies, rather than an exclusive black-tie performance.  Our companions are publicans and sinners.  Our highest vantage point is not found in looking out from a throne, a pedestal, or a penthouse...but the lonely summit of a cross.   We are most grounded and stable when we are on our knees...washing feet, praying, looking up into the eyes and hearts of our neighbors, not down at them.  We rest most peacefully surrounded by lambs and doves, straw and starlight.  We are manger dwellers.

On the final page of her autobiography, Retrospection and Introspection, at the end of the chapter, "Waymarks," poet, speaker, reformer, teacher, discoverer, founder of Christian Science, and most importantly, spiritual healer,  Mary Baker Eddy concludes,

"In this period and the forthcoming centuries, watered by dews of divine Science, this "tree of life" will blossom into greater freedom, and its leaves will be "for the healing of the nations."

                      Ask God to give thee skill
                          In comfort's art:
                    That thou may'st consecrated be
                          And set apart
                        Unto a life of sympathy. 
                    For heavy is the weight of ill
                          In every heart;
                      And comforters  are needed much
                        Of Christlike touch. 
                                                          — A. E. HAMILTON

This is how she chose to close the last chapter of her autobiography...with a call to fellow healers.  And many who have been immeasurably blessed, healed, and transformed by God's love, have gratefully answered that call.  I am honored to work among such humble servants of the Most High.  I love you, dear colleagues...I am amazed by your selflessness, moved by your example, touched by your compassion, and encouraged by your lives of self-surrender, availability, and grace. 

In your company I hear the song of angels and the lullabies of that mother-love in each of you, singing "low, sad, and sweet" as you lift up the Christ child in every man, woman and child...each moment, of every day and night...you are my heroes. 

I am honored to be manger-watching with you tonight....
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

[photo credit:  Ashley Bay 2009]