Instead, imagine a country
occupied by a foreign power. Instead, imagine a local scandal involving a
teenage girl who isn’t old enough to drive (a camel maybe, but not a car) and
her respectable, righteous even, fiancée. Imagine, the shame. Imagine the
surprise when she is not dismissed quietly, but aforementioned boyfriend stays
the course, solid as the timber he plies for a trade. Imagine the panic as
labor pains increase along with doors slammed shut, refusing welcome. Imagine
the relief at entry, barn animals or not. Imagine the water breaking.
Imagine the mystery of all
things, the creator of all that is, nurtured, nestled, in that young womb for
nine months, submitting to the same story of every human come before. Imagine
the emergence of beautiful new life: blood, fluid, and labored breaths; the
young mother exercising a form of workmanship ancient and fresh, producing art which
lives and loves. Imagine the impossibility made possible, of the creature
caressing the creator to her breast. Imagine the cry of Life itself, Divinity
itself, joining with baby’s breathe, hastening the redemption of all.
Imagine this tiny breath
expanding from that straw stable to enveloping all that was and will be. A breath
that we inhale by faith. A breath we inhale by virtue of having lungs and
breathing air. A life we partake in by virtue of every cell in our body and
every spiritual molecule in our soul. Imagine this and you will have come close
to the Kingdom. Imagine this and you will tremble with the audacity of it all.
You will slam your Christmas dinner table with fists of epiphany. You will have
seen through the mirror dim, the true message of Christmas, given in a single
name:
Emmanuel.
