‘The Humanity’

By Fr. Jerry Pokorsky ( bio - articles - email ) | Dec 23, 2024

We’ve heard it said, “I love humanity. It’s my fellow man I detest.” The cynical realism of the quip shouldn’t distract us from our obligation to love humanity.

In the closing week of Advent, we celebrate the Joyful Mysteries of the Rosary: The Annunciation and the Visitation, with Christmas as the grand finale—the birth of Jesus, our Lord and Savior. But these Gospel accounts may not be as compelling as, for example, the crime of the century—if we can remember it. (There are so many of them nowadays.) Why didn’t the beautiful humanity of the Infancy Narratives make it into the ancient Jerusalem Post (or its equivalent) back in the day?

Some scholars overthink. They question the historicity of the Infancy Narratives and invoke obscure things like “the Q Source.” Their arguments are above the pay grades of ordinary Catholics. So, it seems the simplicity of Occam’s Razor is a better approach: basic humanity. After Pentecost, the Blessed Virgin Mary gave the evangelists all they needed to know about the birth of Jesus.

Six months before the Annunciation, the Angel Gabriel visits the priest Zechariah, saying his prayers in the Temple. The Angel reveals tidings of good news. Zechariah’s elderly and barren wife, Elizabeth, will bear a son. Zechariah responded with skepticism. Who could blame him? But Zechariah was a learned and pious priest. God’s intervention in such intimate matters wasn’t unprecedented. He knew the account of Abraham and Sarah. Although Sarah giggled with impunity upon hearing the news, Zechariah should have known better. Gabriel had good reason to strike him dumb for the duration of the pregnancy in punishment for his obduracy, but God did not revoke the gift of life.

Six months later, the same angel visited Mary at prayer. Mary would conceive a son. Mary echoed the question of Zechariah. “How can this be, since I do not know man?” But her question wasn’t skeptical. She did not doubt God’s revelation. Her faith was reasonable, and she sought a deeper understanding. We also are on solid ground with God when we ask—with obedience, boldness, and respect—for an explanation that broadens our faith. But we dare not put God to the test, as did Zechariah.

Gabriel explained that the Holy Spirit would come upon Mary, and she would conceive. He added that Elizabeth, her cousin, had conceived a child in her old age, for nothing is impossible with God. And the Word was made Flesh and dwelt among us. The Incarnation occurred on March 25, the Feast of the Annunciation, nine months before December 25. The Church’s liturgical calendar preceded the empirical biological details of modern medical science! Christmas is the glorious manifestation of the Incarnation. Every Christian must accept that life begins at conception.

When Mary received the news, she informed Joseph—and maybe her parents, Joachim and Ann—and hastily visited her cousin who needed a young woman’s care. Upon arrival, St. Elizabeth greeted Mary, herself with child, and the unborn John leaped within Elizabeth’s womb. As Mother Teresa observed, an unborn baby was the first to witness the divinity of Jesus. Mary remains with Elizabeth for the remaining three months and witnesses the birth of John. She likely observed Zechariah’s comical argument with his relatives as the elderly couple named their newborn.

In Jesus, God and man are reconciled, born of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Jesus is Emmanuel: God is with us. God purifies and uplifts human nature with the Incarnation. Jesus suffers and dies for us, redeems us, and opens the doors to heaven. He sends forth His Spirit upon us. In our bodily flesh, our grace-filled nature becomes higher than the angels. Incorporated into the Mystical Body of Christ, Jesus sends us forth from Mass to live and proclaim His life. St. Irenaeus is succinct: God is the glory of man, and the glory of God is man fully alive. Humanity!

These details would not meet the front-page editorial standards of our newspapers. Even today, Christmas competes with wars, rumors of wars, and the national debt for prominence as we anxiously await the next crime of the century. Yet, occasionally, events reveal the simple human significance of the Infancy Narratives. Good people rejoice in humanity. Violations of humanity also grieve good people.

On May 6, 1937, the giant German dirigible Hindenburg burst into flames over Lakehurst, New Jersey. Lightning, a backfiring motor, ground crew negligence, or even sabotage might have caused the disaster that left 36 dead and a pile of charred wreckage. The iconic black-and-white photos and newsreel images are stunning. Reporter Herbert Morrison was an eyewitness. The passion of his recorded words in his memorable radio broadcast far exceeds these printed words: “And oh, it’s…burning, oh, four or five hundred feet into the sky. It’s a terrific crash, ladies and gentlemen. The smoke and the flames now and the frame is crashing to the ground, not quite to the mooring mast. [He begins to weep.] Oh, the humanity….” The humanity! His words are poignant and spontaneous expressions of love for human life and the horror of its loss.

As we gaze at the world, the war zones of Europe, and the Middle East, we would do well to consider anonymous humanity before grand strategies and alliances. As we look forward to upcoming Christmas gatherings, delight in the humanity and love in our families and communities—even our enemies. Our delight won’t make headlines. But in our humanity—and in the humanity of others—we see Jesus and His Holy Family.

The Visitation and the tender Infancy Narratives are human. The accounts help us cultivate a spontaneous love for humanity in all its beauty and simplicity—and prepare us to love our fellow man.