God of God …
Only the sound of an infant
Crying in the night.
A familiar, homely, human sound
Like the sound of hooves on flagstones,
Like the rattle of chains tethering cattle,
Like the crunch of straw in the mouths of oxen,
Like the rustle of hay tossed in a manger.
Light of light …
Only the light of a star
Falling on an infant in a crib
Like the light in a shepherd’s lantern
Like the light in the eyes of a mother
Like the light in the learning of the wise men
Like the light that lightens each dawn.
Very God of very God …
Only a pillow of straw
And an infant in rags and tatters
Like the weather-torn blankets of shepherds
Like dusty, travel-stained garments of travellers
Like old cloths thrown to a beggar
Like cloths stuffed in a stable window
To keep the draught out and the cattle warm.
God is with us,
Terribly, simply with us.
And the shadows of men and women
With arms outstretched to take him
Fall across the manger
In the form of a cross.
Anon.
Feature Image: Nativity of Jesus, Lorenzo Monaco, c.1406-10, PD, Wikimedia Commons