Hi, everyone!
Before I dive into the main ideas I want to explore here, a quick update for those of you who may not have heard: In late July, Mike and I welcomed Hazel and Sophie Cardillo Jackson into the outside world. They spent two and three weeks respectively in the NICU, as they were born quite early, but they were healthy the whole time and just needed a bit of assistance learning how to eat and regulate their body temperatures. I have recovered more or less completely from the unplanned c-section and, with the help of many, many people, Mike and I are adjusting to life as the parents of twins.
(If you’re interested, I’d be happy to share a few stories/photos individually, but we are trying to limit how much of their lives we’re revealing to the internet, so I’ll refrain from sharing too much about them in this more public forum.)
Moving on to my main thoughts for today…
Yesterday, Sophie and Hazel were baptized, which is one of the main rituals that Christians celebrate. It also marked the first day of Advent, the beginning of the Christian calendar and one of my favorite times of year. Each year, it seems, there is a new aspect of this season that stands out to me, challenges me, and leaves me in awe. This time around, I am considering a question that I doubt would have occurred to me before this year: What if Jesus had been a twin?
On the one hand, this is a philosophical/theological question that leads to a host of related questions (e.g., could Jesus have been a twin? If so, would his twin have also been divine? Would it make a difference if he were a fraternal or identical twin? Would God still be considered Triune in this situation? Etc.). On the other hand, it is a rather practical question for me as a parent of twins because of the concept of the Incarnation, the idea that God became a human in order to better love, serve, save, and communicate with us. Let me explain.
One of the benefits of a religion in which God is portrayed as a baby is that it makes it easier to imagine the divine in any babies that might cross your path. This practice can help you find additional reserves of patience and love when you are so tired that every fiber in your being aches to fall asleep but someone is demanding that you feed them. Or change their diaper. Or hold them. Or not hold them but just be there watching them cry for reasons you can’t comprehend. It’s useful because the story of God becoming a human elevates humanity immeasurably. That someone is not only your child – they’re a manifestation of the divine.
[By the way, before I start sounding a bit too saintly here, there are three important caveats about this practice of seeing Jesus in your baby. The first is that I am certainly not doing this all the time. Not even close. The second is that to the extent that I am able to imagine I’m tending to Jesus as I care for the girls, it’s because so many people have given me the mental, emotional, and spiritual support to allow me to do so. The third is that I am fully expecting that this practice will become immensely harder as the twinfants grow into their more autonomous toddlerhood and the challenges that stage brings. Right now, they are not responsible for any activities that irritate me. I know that will change…]
So, okay. Great: in my best moments, I can imagine the babies as Jesus, which brings me a bit more patience, a bit more wonder, a bit more willingness to sacrifice than I might otherwise have. (In other words, a bit more love.)
But what happens when you have twins? What happens when there is more than one Jesus who each need you at the same time? Parents of multiple children might come to this question as well, but it is perhaps intensified with twins. Sometimes Sophie and Hazel take turns crying to express their different needs, but sometimes they don’t. Because we need them to be on the same schedule, they are often needing to eat at the same time or are starting to get tired at the same time. And as Mike went back to work full time after two months of leave, our parent-baby ratio went down to 1:2 during work hours. Not surprisingly, I find myself disappointing at least one of my imagined Jesuses many times a day.
This frustration is simply the most recent way I find myself feeling torn between multiple competing goods that claim my attention. Perhaps you have experienced something similar: What do you do when the demands of parenthood conflict with your work requirements? What do you do with your limited free time—volunteer at a local charity or spend time with your friends? Will you go for a contemplative hike in the woods or curl up and read that book you’ve been dying to get to? All of these are good things. With only a little effort, I could find divinity in each of them. So how do I say yes to one possible encounter with God knowing that I’m saying no to another, at least in that moment?
Over the next few weeks during the Advent season, I am going to reflect on a few of the lessons I’ve learned as I’ve tried to balance the needs of Jesus-in-Hazel and Jesus-in-Sophie in the hopes that they will be useful as we all think about how to tend carefully to the various, sometimes competing goods in our lives.
Right now, though, I’m thinking back to the service yesterday. Neither baby cried at all during what I’m sure was a rather surprising experience for them, but as Sophie was being baptized, she did cling to the sleeve of the priest. “Let go!” he encouraged her and then joked that she had already developed good taste in vestments, the clothing priests wear. I’m with Sophie, though. Too often, I’m highly aware that I am saying no to some good thing. But gradually, I’m learning that when I can say yes, I want to be all in; I want to hold on to that sacred moment in whatever way I can.
A peaceful Advent season to those who are observing it, and to everyone, have a wonderful week!
Sarah/Mouse
