Make a point of spending time before the
Crib this Christmas. Not just the brief visits with your children,
but time, real time, for yourself. Time to bow before the mystery
of it all. Time to let your eyes wander from figure to figure
as you take in the picture and contemplate the message.
Poverty is preferable to plenty; in God’s eyes, that is.
Dirt and cold don’t matter if love is warm and constant.
Shepherds are at ease with kings, and kings with shepherds, when
the hearts of both are in the right place. Small wonder the angels
sing.
And then there are the animals! Docile, humble, gentle animals.
The donkey, provider of transport and carrier of loads for the
poor; the ox that pulls the plough and nurtures the body; the
sheep that help to clothe and feed. The warmth of their breath
and the closeness of their bodies may well give comfort to the
infant more than royal gifts of frankincense and gold.
No place, here, for the tiger, Celtic, or otherwise. For anything
redolent of aggression, greed or a predatory spirit would be
truly alien to the climate of the crib.
The crib, if we contemplate it, will be a vehicle of grace for
us, whether in calm or in disturbance. Whether it calls us from
complacency to conversion or strengthens our inner security.
For Peace is the central message of Christmas, promised by the
Angelic chorus to all people of good will.
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