Seeing God in Ourselves at Christmas
I recently came across the work of Indian Catholic artist Angelo da Fonseca. I’d been searching for depictions of the nativity from other places in the world when I lingered on one of his pieces. Not recognizing the name, I looked him up.
I learned that da Fonseca was the first Indian artist to depict Jesus—and other Biblical scenes—as culturally Indian. This approach was considered subversive by many in the religious community, so he was more or less scorned by the church. At the same time, his overtly religious themes made him somewhat unappealing to the art world, so while his work is highly regarded now, he still remains relatively unknown.
I think his pieces are beautiful. Seeing images of Jesus from other places and cultural traditions has always been meaningful to me. For me, I guess they speak to the humanness at the heart of faith—a universal pull to find God in the familiar.
What if the Christmas story invites us to see God in ourselves?
During the Christmas season, Christians often talk about Jesus’ birth and humanity in a way that tends to disparage the human experience—why would God ever become one of us? Why would he stoop so low? In this telling, to be human is, of course, a great humiliation, a disgrace.
I think it’s because we have this bent towards shame. How easy it is for us to see the worst in ourselves and others, and believe that none of us are worth the trouble. If we’re honest, that’s exactly how we package God’s love and deliver it to those around us most of the time.
(Even though you’re really quite terrible,) God loves you. Isn’t that great?
I can’t help thinking we’ve had it backwards for such a long time.
That’s why, even in the midst of this framework of shame, we still find ourselves longing to catch glimpses not of a God who is unfamiliar in glory and perfection, who deigns to loves us in spite of ourselves, but of one who reflects our humanity back to us, the way we were meant to see it—tender, cherished, whole.
Maybe this year, rather than marveling at why God would ever choose to be human, we could try seeing the Christmas story as a reminder that our humanness is sacred and beautiful.
Maybe it always has been.
Maybe each day, including Christmas, our only job is to believe it.
Photo Credits
Nativity, 1954. Watercolour. Courtesy: angelofonseca.com | Madonna, 1942. Oil on Canvas. Courtesy: angelocfonseca.com | Nativity, 1954. Courtesy: The Jesus Question| Madonna and child, 1940. Watercolour on paper. Courtesy: Heras Centre Photo Archive, Mumbai
