Magic? Too hokey. Miraculous? Too overused. Thaumaturgic? Too esoteric.
I'd like to consider the birth of Jesus. History hinges upon the day that the Word was made flesh. It was the defining moment in the sad story of our beleagured world.
"A thrill of Hope, the weary World rejoices."
The World is alive, you know. The Bible says that it's in constant pain, like one in childbirth. It's been injured by decisions of man. It suffers and it cries out.
"For yonder breaks, a New and Glorious morn."
How long had It waited? How long had we pined? We wrote stories about saviours and heroes, legends and myths about a person or persons who would rescue us from the grave.
"Fall on your
knees! Hear the Angel's voices!"
And then He came. Everything about His birth was a source of wonder. The nature of His conception, the time into which He arrived, the events that swirled around His birth, the kings and peasants who paid Him homage. The whole thing simply 'verberates with a sense of the Unworldly, the Holy.
"Christ is the Lord!"
Perhaps for that one night, when He was born, the Earth felt a respite, and "the soul felt its worth."
Today is the day when the Holy reaches down to the mundane.
