Advent IV See You At The Manger

In a friend’s recent e mail, he closed with the line “See you at the manger.” A far cry from Yours Truly or Sincerely, his closing caught my attention and has remained with me since.

As a child, I imagined participating in the Christmas story and my heart and imagination gravitate to the stable, still. I like to imagine the dim lights and hushed sounds in the shadow of the rambunctious inn. I like to imagine reaching out and petting the overworked donkey and telling him he did a great job. I like thinking about the other animals looking on in between bites of whatever they’re eating. The shepherds would be there, of course, but hopefully not the kings or wise men. Shepherds are easy folk, the kind around whom you can be yourself, whereas the kings, dressed in robes and carrying gifts, make Christmas feel like a competition. Such a night shouldn’t be cluttered with worries about whether you are important enough, rich enough, or wise enough.

I’d step closer, which would cause Mary and Joseph to look up, and, in their eyes, I’d see something I couldn’t quite figure out. A knowing, perhaps. An invitation to know, as well. With only the slightest smile, Mary would invite me to look for myself.

Standing over the manger, I’d see the baby we talk so much about. All the things said wouldn’t matter at that moment, just the child would. Asleep, but ready to take on the world. My bet is, standing at the manger would change my view of the world. Things that overwhelm me would diminish. Mistakes would fade. Troubles with others, would no longer seem important. Instead of being complicated, my bet is it would suddenly seem simple. Peace on earth. Good will to all.  Simple, but revolutionary. All things would suddenly feel possible.

Going to the manger in my dreams like this, stirs a desire to bring others to the manger. “You’ve got to see this!” I’d cry, as I pull their arm. In that moment, I wouldn’t have to explain. There’d be no need for debate about who he is or what he meant. We could simply look down and know the world will never be the same. We wouldn’t need to know how, just that it’s true. Such a moment would be worth sharing.

Let’s meet at the manger this year.