Lowing Cattle

By the way, if you thought that the first Christmas was somehow as still and silent as the paintings make us think that it was, I have news for you: 

It wasn't. 

We know there was hustle and bustle in the inn, filled to the brim, bedding piled in every conceivable place, guests tripping over each other, families reuniting and trying to share moments together, the luggage getting in the way, folks trickling in from wherever they've spent their days. 

Then, we go down to the barn where a young Joseph and his precious, very-pregnant Mary, are in labor, and we have all these images of a beautiful little manger with the hay all spread out nice and neat, a woman smiling, a baby sleeping peacefully...and I'm telling you, it wasn't like that. 

There was screaming. Mary, in labor, screamed. She took Joseph's hand and squeezed it, and he screamed. That woke up the animals, who started making their own noises, trying to figure out what was going on in their environment. The barnhands would have been close, would have come running. Trying to calm the animals. 

Donkeys braying. Camels spitting. Cows lowing. The song even tells us that cows were lowing. It's almost like it was a barn in there or something. 

It's not, then, that noise itself is a problem at Christmas; the question is really, what are we listening to? 

Can we hear the woman crying in labor? Can we hear the Christ child take His first breath? Can we hear creation - the animals, nature - singing out their song? Can we hear the noise they make when disturbed by the inbreaking? 

Sometimes, I wonder if this is what it was like in the beginning, when the whole of the universe was formless and void until the voice of God broke through. Until the Word spoke.

Until the Son cried out. 

And then, everything woke up. The world came to life. Something new was happening. The hay was scattered, but in a breath, it came together, ordered into the manger, put in place, postcard perfect. 

Ah, yes...postcard perfect. 

Have you ever heard the birds chirping in Eden?

This is what I think we miss out on so easily. We have these images of Christmas as quiet, as still, as...a silent night. But it wasn't silent, just like the Garden wasn't silent; it was abuzz with life, filled with sound. Not noise, but sound. (Do you know the difference?) 

Can you hear it?

It's the sound of a newborn baby crying in a manger...

...and the whole of creation responding in kind.