And the Word was Made Flesh…
I recently saw a postcard with an unusual image of St. Dominic: Surrounded by books and meditatively poised, the mendicant preacher stands erect, his eyes focused downward on a Christ child who stands on the palm of his hand. The divine infant looks directly at us while displaying an open book with illuminated Latin text from the Gospel of John. The child points toward the Evangelist's proclamation: Et Verbum caro factum est. The image is a concentric arrangement of revelatory mediations: Dominic contemplates and offers us the Word made flesh, who in turn shows us the Scriptural Word that proclaims his enfleshment.
Painted by contemporary Florentine artist Sandra Brunetti and titled "San Domenico predicatore del Verbo fatto Carne," the original is on display at the Basilica of Santa Maria Novella. What I found most striking was Brunetti's grasp of the incarnational nature of Dominican preaching. The artist shows through an image what we are known for doing through words: contemplating and giving to others the fruits of our contemplation. Dominicans preach the living Word of God, whether on the pulpit, in writing, or through the arts, but that Word must first be tasted, savored, and become part of our being through focused prayer and study. In order for the Word to take flesh in our preaching, it must first become flesh in our frailty.
As Advent comes to a rapid close and we find Christmas suddenly upon us, let us stop to reflect on the Incarnation and remember the call of all baptized Christians to let the Word become flesh in the depths of our being. Let us take a moment to dwell on the One who dwells within us and consider the hope-filled mystery of the season; that by gazing into the fragile manger of our hearts we will find, waiting calmly within, the holy infant whose frailty has ransomed our own, and whose radical self-gift is the very fruit that we are called to embody and share.
