When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and the princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flocks,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among brothers,
To make music in the heart.
Howard Thurman, The Mood of Christmas and Other Celebrations
(Friends United Press, 1985)
As this year draws to its end,
We give thanks for the gifts it brought
And how they became inlaid within
Where neither time nor tide can touch them.
The days when the veil lifted
And the soul could see delight;
When a quiver caressed the heart
In the sheer exuberance of being here.
Surprises that came awake
In forgotten corners of old fields
Where expectation seemed to have quenched.
The slow, brooding times
When all was awkward
And the wave in the mind
Pierced every sore with salt.
The darkened days that stopped
The confidence of the dawn.
Days when beloved faces shone brighter
With light from beyond themselves;
And from the granite of some secret sorrow
A stream of buried tears loosened.
We bless this year for all we learned,
For all we loved and lost
And for the quiet way it brought us
Nearer to our invisible destination.
John O’Donohue, To Bless the Space between Us (Doubleday, 2008)
God of all gentleness, God of pure love,
you do not watch us from heights far above,
you are no tyrant, but patient and mild,
present with grace in the poor, in the child.
God of all mercy, may we be the ones
bearing your love to your daughters and sons,
not out of pity but humbly, with grace,
for in the poor we see your human face.
God of all justice, give us hearts to care,
hope to free prisoners of fear and despair,
courage to challenge the ways that oppress,
deep love to reach out to heal and to bless.
God of compassion, your Spirit now pour
into us all, for it’s we who are poor,
hungry for justice, for healing and grace,
and for full life for the whole human race.
Steve Garnass-Holmes, unfoldinglight.net December 39, 2021
(The
first North American Christmas carol)*
Twas in
the moon of wintertime
When all the birds had fled,
That God, the Lord of all the earth,
Sent angel choirs instead;
Before their light the stars grew dim,
And wond’ring hunters heard the hymn:
Jesus your King is born! Jesus is born!
Glory be to God on high!
The
earliest moon of wintertime
Is not so round and fair
As was the ring of glory
Around the infant there.
And when the shepherds then drew near
The angel voices rang out clear:
Jesus your King is born! Jesus is born!
Glory be to God on high!
O
children of the forest free,
The angels’ song is true.
The holy child of earth and heaven
Is born today for you.
Come, kneel before the radiant boy
Who brings you beauty, peace, and joy.
Jesus your King is born! Jesus is born!
Glory be to God on high!
*Written in 1640 in the Huron language by the Jesuit priest, Jean de Brebeuf. It was sung by the tribe until 1649 when the Iroquois destroyed the Jesuit mission, killed de Brebeuf, and drove the Hurons out. Many survivors fled to Quebec where the carol re-emerged and was translated into English and French. It is beloved throughout Canada today.
It was a time like this,
War & tumult of war,
a horror in the air.
Hungry yawned the abyss-
and yet there came the star
and the child most wonderfully there.
It was time like this
of fear & lust for power,
license & greed and blight-
and yet the Prince of bliss
came into the darkest hour
in quiet & silent light.
And in a time like this
how celebrate his birth
when all things fall apart?
Ah! Wonderful it is
with no room on the earth
the stable is our heart.
Madeline L’Engle, a-poem-a-day-project.blogspot.com December
25, 2016
He was the strong, the silent one,
carrying no dry cliches
about aloneness as manliness.
The pain was a shard of ice in his heart;
it stilled his voice and dropped his gaze.
Quietly, he made his decision.
This girl: he would send her back home
without touching her. Save her from the
whispered looks, corrosive laughter — or worse.
Then came the dreams … the angel’s words …
he could recall them all as if etched in fire:
“Do not be afraid to take her as your wife …”
He loved her in his silence; she was quick
and unafraid. He matched her confidence
with trust. They would together find their way.
Four dreams defined his life:
Take her to wife, take them to Egypt,
return to Judea, settle in Nazareth.
Then he exits stage left and we are left
to see him, a silent man without pretense,
stolid and strong behind his Mary.
Barry Casey, journeywithjesus.net September 10, 2022
We’re long past racing downstairs
Christmas mornings breathless
for surprises under evergreen branches,
and our stockings now are the support kind
to hold things together south of our knees.
Michael Bublé may sing “White Christmas”
instead of Bing, and Amazon.com
may replace Woolworths on Black Fridays,
but we’ve moved on to richer gifts
of spouses and children, our own homes
glowing in holiday lights of December.
And over the now many miles of age
we still hold close the love of friends,
those we meet for coffee and conversation,
who check in with texts and morning emails,
those with whom our hearts have a history,
who make every day of every season
the most wonderful time of the year.
Edwin Romand, yourdailypoem.com December 25, 2021
