When the Divine Enters History
. . . it’s always messy. Consider the story
of Jesus. Bride and groom in a people
defined by law, by tradition, by observances
and the bride pregnant. By the divine.
Something whispered in her ear by an Angel.
Something whispered again to Joseph.
And the acceptance of the barely heard
words and what had to be done – what
acts of deception – to keep the two,
the three of them safe, not scorned,
not driven away. For months until
that decree for a census and Joseph
and Mary preparing for the journey
to Bethlehem and back – three or four
days there, as long as it takes to be counted,
three or four days back and Mary ready,
waiting before the ride on the donkey,
before finally finding a manger,
before the star, the Angels, the shepherds,
the wise men, the Angel speaking again
to Mary and Joseph to flee, to the wise men
to break their word to Herod. The shepherds?
Who would believe them? And then the Massacre
of the Innocents, the rage of Herod turned
into the Angel of Death as Mary and Joseph
and Jesus seek their safe haven of exile
in Egypt, the land of their people’s bondage.
For three years their journey
continued, twelve hundred plus miles
of which we know nothing except they survived,
thrived for years before we are told the story
of their boy in the temple, the child-wonder
confounding old priests. This all is part
of the story, the way the divine enters history.
Best not to forget how hope comes to be,
how light grows out of darkness.
How we come to say, “Merry Christmas.”
-Byron Hoot
https://hootnhowlpoetry.com
