The following was one of the readings I wrote for the Christmas Eve Service
The Prince of Peace was not born in a palace. He had no soft
blankets against his skin. There were no relatives cooing and demanding that
they be the next one to hold him.
We understand that he was born to a poor family, but perhaps
we don’t realize how poor. Most of us
imagine the nativity scene like this:
Look again at Luke’s account of Christ’s birth and you’ll
see there is no mention of a barn or a stable. There were no cute animals lying
sedately in sweet smelling straw.
There’s not even mention of the donkey for Mary to ride.
Mary and Joseph were far from home, away from any family or
friends. When it says there was no room in the inn, it means they were outside
in the cold night. There was no emergency shelter, no public housing, no
hospital constrained by law to accept her, even if she had no money.
They simply found a vacant place on the ground for her to
deliver her baby. And because she would have been too weak to hold him, they
put him in the nearest container—one of those feed troughs to which we have
assigned the quaint name, manger. And
they found some old rags to wrap around the child to protect him from
exposure.
It’s a miracle anyone survives such conditions, but some do.
On this night, they did.
This was the scene that made the angels sing. This was what
the shepherds found when they searched for him.
This is the baby who grew up to heal the sick, feed the hungry, and
speak powerful words that still move our hearts.
This is the birth we celebrate.
