I was demoted today, I did not see it coming. Two years ago, I was feeling quite sure of myself. I was a Magi. Since I do not really know what a Magi is, I went with the alternate version, I was one of the Three Wise Men, or Wise Guys, or better yet, Three Kings.
It was nice thinking of myself as a king. I sort of strutted around the venue of the Nativity Scene. I showed off my chest of gold, the one I brought as a gift. I would have bragged about the Frankincense or Myrrh, but since I have no idea what those are, I went with the safe gift.
Did I say strut? More like shivered. It was a cold December weekend, and the wind brought the chill factor down considerably. If Frankincense and Myrrh had masculine qualities, they would have shrunk.
Two years ago, I was a big shot bearing gifts. With my two compadres, we “traverse afar, field and fountain, moor and mountain, following yonder star.” How cool is that? A road trip by camel. It gets no better.
This year will be different. I will be “abiding in the field, keeping watch over the flock by night.” Technically, I will be off the clock at 9 p.m. and the sheep will be on their own, unless someone has an Anatolian to take over the wee hours.
My participation in the Nativity Scene was voluntary. I enjoyed that. Although I know few people in my community, I enjoy giving back in some small way and contribute to sharing the story of our Savior’s birth, even in the cold. It also comes with a free meal before we attend our stations. Maybe there will be tacos this year.
Live Nativities feed our imaginations. We see sheep, donkeys, and other form of domesticated mammals. Maybe a cow and a pig will contribute their presence.
We hear Christmas Carols with their soothing rhythms and spirit filled messages.
Our eyes focus on Three Wise Guys, bearing gifts. The historical unlikelihood of them arriving on the night of Christ’s birth really matters little. It is part of the biblical record. They came. They brought gifts.
The Angels did not sing “Noel” either. That is a French word, and I do not believe that language was used in any of the Gospels.
Regardless of personal beliefs, I cannot help but think that everyone; believer, skeptic, or downright atheist, feels the magic of the season.
It might manifest in the aura of Santa Claus. We join in the charade because we want to. We want to believe in an altruistic jolly fellow bestowing gifts to children around the world. We marvel and accept he gets it done in one night, powered by eight reindeer (or nine.) I am not sure if Rudolph pulls his weight.
He is a master of breaking and entering. Imagine the havoc he could wreak if he were a nefarious old soul? He devours cookies and downs milk like a newborn calf on a teat. The likelihood of him accepting an adult refreshment cannot be discounted. Who would be able to pull over a flying sleigh to administer a field sobriety test?
As regal as the Three Kings station might be, the centerpiece remains the manger scene.
Mary and Joseph gaze on the infant. He is wearing swaddling clothes, and no one knows what those are, but we do know he is adorned in something. Many, retelling the story, make a big deal of there being no room in the inn. I have heard too many recount they could not get a room because of the expense or their station in life. No. It was simply no room.
I have never slept in a manger, or a stable. The closest thing I have experienced would be a hay loft. It was not all that bad.
We observe. We experience. We breathe in the holy ambience. We reflect on what God the Father has brought forth. We consider the repercussions; for the birth presages the cross. The cozy, yet rustic cradle will give way to nails through hands and feet; the halo over the cradle is replaced with a crown of thorns.
But for the nativity, we focus on the miracle of the birth.
No sheep were actually watched over in constructing this story.
