Jesus Look-a-Like

"He lives in you, 

He lives in me.

He watches over everything we see,

into the water, into the truth, 

in your reflection, 

He lives in you."

- "He Lives In You", The Lion King

 or 

     On Tuesday, I said what I thought would be my last goodbyes to the Nazareth Academy crowd before the New Year. But after wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, I had one final stop: the Main Office. As soon as I walked in, Sister Mary Joan wrapped her "big sister" arms around my neck (literally my neck) and pulled my head under her chin. "What do you mean 'Merry Christmas'?" She asked. "I mean..uh..Merry Christmas?" Right away the ladies in the Main Office, Mrs. Versino and Mrs. Cardamone chimed in: "Yeah, aren't you coming back this week?" "Uh...no?" I answered, now unsure of my plans for the rest of the week. I was still in a loving headlock from Sister Mary Joan when she said, "You are always here for Mass. You never miss Christmas Mass." I agreed. And then the three of them in unison said, "So you're coming right?!" "Of course..." I mumbled, "Of course." 

      Having gone to my alma mater once a week for the past two and a half months, and then twice this week already, I was starting to feel like I was wearing out my welcome. And I can't lie, I needed my own little break from Nazareth. As much as I love my school a million, I'm there way too much for having graduated three years ago. And yet, something always drags me back in.Whether it's the people I love, the girls who are my sisters, my heart needing a little bit (or a lotta bit) or love or God just wants me there, I always get dragged back in. And the curse for anyone who goes through those front doors is: You can never just stay for a few minutes. You stay forever.

     And so, there I was this morning, trying to pick out something other than yoga pants and a t-shirt to wear to Mass. After baking my little sister four dozen brownies for her classmates at six this morning and getting her ready for school, I dropped her off and then headed to the great Naz Acad. With two minutes to spare, I pulled into the parking lot. Not one, not two, but ALL THREE (yes, I have three unofficial, official parking spots there....) were filled. You know what that means, those two minutes to spare were spent running from the back parking lot to the front door. Of course, nothing ever starts on time, so I spent that "extra time" catching up briefly with my A.E., Sister Michele. Before I knew it, those I had said "Merry Christmas" were now "harassing" me about how I "just couldn't stay away." God does some funny things, I told them. And boy was today just an emulation of that!

      Father began the homily by asking us what we thought Jesus looked like. He suggested Chase Utley, and the Brawny Man, but I couldn't disagree more. In my mind, I began to compose what Jesus would really look like: scruffy; dark, sun-tanned skin; dark, dark, wild brown hair; dark brown, almost black eyes; he wouldn't be too built, but he would be strong; his hands would be rough from carpentry work; and of course, he'd have blisters on his feet from his shoes. I smiled at this image in my head, but then I tuned back into the homily. "A baby..." I heard. Oh wait...Jesus did come as a baby at first. Immediately, I tried to picture this grown man I just drew in my head, as a newborn baby. 

      Ask anyone and they will tell you, I love babies. I love holding them, rocking them, singing to them, feeding them, playing with them, smiling at the them, waving at them, playing peek-a-boo with them, even changing their diapers...I don't even mind that. I love babies. They bring such joy to anyone's life with their innocence and their little-ness. Their eyes are wide, ready for the world and yet they are so fragile. I have so many babies in my life, that describing this makes it easy...and yet, I couldn't imagine Jesus as a baby. 

      As I went through my day at Nazareth (like I said, you can't leave.....), I caught up more with my AE, I crashed Sister David's second period and watched The Nativity Story with her class, bonded with Sister Teri over Special Education courses (ironic how we took the same class...) and finally, popped in to aid my dear Sister Mary Anthony. I tried to keep my profile low while I was in the building; the less people who knew I was there, the better. And yet, that never happens when Becca is in the building. But that's ok. God had me there for a reason.

      That reason was soon to be revealed to me as I sat in the Community Service Corps office with Sister Mary Anthony trying to fix the CSC Facebook Account. She is always multi-tasking, and so while I was fixing it, she was trying to call her Operation Santa Claus delivery spots. She was supposed to drop some presents off today, but she just wasn't going to make it. Without even fully knowing what was going on, my heart volunteered for the job. Right away, I said, "I can do it, Sister." Both of us were shocked at my abrupt volunteer, but God was in it. As we quickly chatted, I found out more and more information. The drive was a half hour away, in a different state and completely out of the way of home for me. But, oh well. When she told me where I was going, I knew right away that God was working in my visit to Naz. The place was called "Our Lady of Sorrows," and I have a huge devotion to her. 

       I quickly printed out directions to where I was going and we headed downstairs to get the presents. We filled up my front seat and then we hugged good-bye. As I drove, it was as if I didn't even need the directions; my heart was leading me to where I was going. I got there a lot sooner than I had expected and dropped off the packages. Just like I did every year, my eyes started to water as the lady gave me a huge hug and thanked me. She told me that Makhai would love the gifts; I knew he would. When I got into the car to drive home, that's when I got it: the reason I couldn't picture Jesus as a baby is because He is not a baby anymore. 

      I reflected back on my day and realized, Jesus doesn't look like a baby, nor does He look like that Middle Eastern man I described. He looks like Makhai. He looks like the lady who opened the front door at Our Lady of Sorrows. He looks like Sister Mary Anthony, Sister David, Sister Teri, Sister Michele and Sister Mary Joan. He looks like the ladies in the main office. He looks like my favorite teachers. He looks like the homeless men and women I saw on my drive through the poor neighborhoods. He looks like my little sisters and their friends. He looks like the tired, worn and exhausted parents. He looks like the parents of the 20 children killed in Connecticut. He looks like their teachers and principal who stood in the line of fire. He looks like the kids in Jamaica that I think about everyday who have no family but each other. He looks like the families in New Orleans who live in the houses I once helped build. Jesus looks like all of these people and so many more. This is why I couldn't picture Him as a baby, because He lives in them and you and me. He looks like us. We are Jesus look-a-likes!