THE CHILD IS BORN
The child is born in the night among the beasts — the sweet breath and steaming dung of the beasts — and nothing is ever the same again. Those who believe in God can never, in a way, be sure of him again. Once they have seen him in a stable, they can never be sure where he will appear or to what lengths he will go or to what ludicrous depths of self-humiliation he will descend in his wild pursuit of man… For those who believe in God it means, this birth, that God himself is never safe from us, and maybe that is the dark side of Christmas, the terror of the silence. He comes in such a way that we can always turn him down, as we would crack a baby’s skull like an eggshell or nail him up when he gets too big for that. From The Hungering Darkness, by Frederick Beucher
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