Hard hearts seem the modus operandi these days. And yet such hearts have always been present in our centuries all the way back to Herod. Wrapped in fear Herod sent his Legions to root out the child by killing any, two years old and younger in the city of Bethlehem. We don’t know how many of them. We do know today’s deaths of the youngest drowned in the Mediterranean, smashed by barrel bombs in Syrian cities and villages, denied health care in our own nation, living in neighborhoods where shots fired in the street cut your mother down. She lives now with pain and continual deprivation. We know these things.
We know this as well. God joined us in our misery and injustice as a helpless infant needing and trusting the good already planted in our fleshy hearts; needing the justice and love already shaped into the clay of our hands, the thoughts of our minds.
God said, I trust and love what I have created enough to be here with you so that what I dreamed as I breathed into you and all creation might in the fullness of time become all I have intended.
The Work of Christmas by Howard Thurman
When the song of the angels is stilled.
When the star in the sky is gone.
When the Magi and elders are home.
When the shepherds are back with their flock.
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost.
To heal the broken.
To feed the hungry.
To release the prisoners.
To rebuild the nations.
To bring peace among all peoples.
To make music in the heart.