The World through the Eyes of Baby Jesus

by Tim Kirchoff

Child-rearing is just one of the many key aspects of human existence with which the modern adolescent male is likely to be completely unfamiliar. Such was my condition when, around the time I graduated college, my friends started having children. For some reason I didn’t stop spending time with them, so I found myself observing the behavior and development of infants for the first time since my younger brothers were born.

Perhaps even more importantly, I was consistently spending time around first-time parents who were keeping track of their infant’s milestones using various books on child development. Whenever I saw them, I would learn about what their child had learned to do that week and how it compared with the average. Instead of simply thinking “babies are cute, but stupid”, I tried to understand what they can actually perceive, and so gained a greater appreciation of some capacities that I take for granted.

Learning to sit up, crawl, stand, and walk all require not only the growth of muscles, but the development of the brain so as to be able to control their movements. Our brains only gradually develop the ability to clearly perceive objects, or to understand that they persist even when they disappear from view. Presumably, Jesus' infant brain was no different. He whose love in every moment sustains the universe may once have had a brain that could not process object permanence.

One of the aspects of child development that I found the most surprising and interesting was an infant’s tendency to turn toward sources of light like windows: babies are drawn to and fascinated by light.

Here's Dan's daughter, Lucy,
seeking the light of the Christmas tree.

In that way, Jesus’ introduction to the world as a human was perhaps not so different from when God created the world and at every turn pronounced it good. He through whom light was made beheld light with human eyes, and found it beautiful. Although Jesus was entering a fallen world, He perceived and focused on the sources of light and goodness around Him rather than shadows and sin.

As for me, I tend to focus on sources of stress and annoyance. Even in my better moments, I am not so much moving toward the light as I am fleeing from my pursuing shadows—mitigating my anxiety rather than exorcising it with joy. As my extended family gathers for the holidays and old arguments rise back up to the surface, even among my own siblings, I find myself wanting just to escape from the discomfort of the conflict, not to see the peace that ought to and could exist.

This Christmas, I want to cultivate my capacity for wonder. I want to be better able to sustain my gaze toward something, to perceive and contemplate its innate light and goodness. I want to see the world as baby Jesus did.