I wonder sometimes
If one of the stars that lit Abraham's night
Was the one that led the Magi to Jesus.
A dark canvas speckled by the most generous brush--
What an improbably promise to an old man.
But our God has never been daunted by the unlikely, the impossible.
What a sight for the Magi, too.
A baby resting on hay, his cries mingled with braying and bleating.
I like to think they heard in those everyday sounds a holy chorus,
Saw in the noisy tableau a Creator serenaded by His creating.
All of it embodied, enfleshed----
All of it good.
And when we've left our gifts for this implausible King,
May we, like the Magi, go home by another way--
Having encountered the holy,
May we protect it, guard it,
Trail its light behind us wherever we go.
A sacred arc transported from heaven to earth,
May we ourselves become the star,
Leading the way to Emmanuel.
Amen
