To all who are looking for hope, head on over to Bethlehem.
But be careful ... Herod is huffing and puffing.
Yes, hope is what we're dealing with.
Perhaps, like Paul notes, not in things we can see.
But things unseen.
Things that once seemed a bit more palpable.
But now shadowy and dim.
For the time being, Herod's in charge.
Backed by Rome.
And the religious elite of Jerusalem.
No one wanted an upset.
Who seems intent on upsetting things.
So, who knows what tomorrow holds.
Though I like to think:
God holds us, in good hands.
I don't want to get all sentimental on this stuff.
Which is easy to do.
And nothing like sentiment to dull the senses.
And mislead the soul.
For way too many, or so I think.
Sentiment satisfies the soul.
So the soul can be locked up again.
Until next year.
A little sentiment, like cinnamon, goes a long way.
Sing "Silent Night" and light a candle.
But don't be misled.
Herod's power is soon to be revealed.
His fear and hatred soon to explode.
And the Holy Family flees for their life.
This Christmas is different for me.
I can't get Herod out of my mind.
And, I suppose, it would be wrong to try.
It's the way of things, far too often.
Merry Christmas, I'll say.
Because Christmas is the account of hope in dark times.
The account hope that sustains.
Even on the Refugee Road, with the Holy Family.