Christmas
I, Midnight
Matthew
1: 1, 17-25
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| Joseph and the Angel, Gandolfi, Wikimedia |
[Now
is proclaimed the beginning of the whole Gospel, according to Matthew in the
first chapter.]
This
is the book of the new creation, which has happened through Jesus Christ [or,
the generation of Jesus Christ], a son of David, who is a son of Abraham….
From
Abraham to David are fourteen generations, from David to the deportation to
Babylon are fourteen generations, and from the exile in Babylon to Christ are
fourteen generations.
The
birth of Jesus Christ took place in this way: Mary, his mother, was betrothed
to Joseph. But before they were aware of having come together, she conceived a
child by the power of the Holy Spirit. Joseph however, her husband, who was an
upright man and did not want to expose her to public disgrace, was considering
whether he should quietly set her free [or, decided to consider all this a
mystery.] As he was pondering this, behold the angel of the Lord appeared
before him in a dream and said to him:
“Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to
take Mary as your wife, because that which is to be born of her is conceived
out of the power of the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you shall give him
the name Jesus, that is, the Bringer of Healing, for he it will be who will
heal his own of their error and guilt. “
All
this took place so that the word of the Lord, spoken by the mouth of the
prophet, might be fulfilled:
“A
virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and they will call his name Immanuel,
that is, God in our midst.”
Now
when Joseph rose from his sleep he did as the angel of the Lord directed him,
and he took Mary to himself as his wife, and he knew her not until she bore her
son, and he gave him the name Jesus.
Christmas
I, Midnight
December
25, 2004 and 2015
Matthew
1: 1, 17-25
An
ancient legend tells of something that happened at midnight in the stall at
Bethlehem. Long has it been kept secret. But tonight you shall hear it.
The
Virgin has just brought the Child into the world. She swaddles and wraps him.
Joseph arranges some straw in the manger. He draws her toward this resting
place. Mary lays the Child into the manger, and to protect him she pulls her
blue mantle halfway over it. The ox and the donkey hardly stir in their
corners. The gentle light reflects in their eyes.
The
door opens silently, as if a breath of wind blew against it. The figure of a
woman stands at the threshold. She is dressed all in gray, in earthy gray. Gray
is the hood that covers her head, shadowing her face. Gray is the mantle that
falls from shoulders to feet. She appears to be ancient, bent over from a
burden long carried.
Mary
feels fear as she gazes at her. Is this woman approaching the child with ill
will? Yet ox and donkey remain quiet. Peacefully they munch the hay. They look
at the stranger as if they have known her since far back in time. The child
sleeps undisturbed. Mary does not let the stranger out of her sight. Her slow
steps—each one seems to last centuries.
Finally
the old one stands at the manger. Mary can see her shadowy features. She gazes
into her eyes, which gaze back at her for a moment, and then come to rest on
the child. He awakens and opens his eyes. And Mary recognizes: the eyes of the
old woman and the eyes of the child both hold the same look; the same hope
shines in both.
The
old one bends over the child. Beneath her mantle her hand stirs, seeming to
want to bring forth something. Mary observes her with the same fear. The
animals also gaze down, yet as calmly as if they had known from the beginning
what would happen.
Finally
after a long moment, the old one draws out her hand; she holds something hidden
in it. She hands it to the child.
What
is the first gift, even before the shepherds had arrived? From her resting
place Mary cannot see; she sees only her back, bent with age that curves even
more as she bends over the manger.
It
all lasts so long. Finally the figure straightens up, freed of a great weight
that had bent her down to the earth. Her shoulders no longer seemed weighed
down. Her head rises nearly to the rafters. Her face shines, wonderfully young
again. She moves away from the crib, turns toward the door and disappears into
the night from which she had come.
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| The Child and the Apple, Michel Erhard |
And
now Mary recognizes the mysterious gift she had brought the Child. Eve had
come, to bring the Child, as his first gift, the apple, the apple of the first
sin with which all calamity had befallen humankind. Over the centuries the
golden Paradise apple had become hard and green and sour, an apple that could
spoil; an apple that had made anyone who ate of it become ill forever after.
But now, in the Child’s little hand,
the apple begins to shine golden again. In the Child’s hand it turns sweet
and
juicy and nourishing. Inside the apple is a star; the star shines within a
white rose. It shines as the image of the new world that is born with him.
This year, the Child is born anew
in the Virgin Soul. In his hand is the apple
of the new world he brings. May we bear the child, cherish his nourishment, and
work alongside him to bring about his new World.[i]
[i]
From the
French, the brothers Tharaud, by Gerhard Wöhrmann in Die
Christengemeinschaft, Nov/Dez 1950. Reproduced in Jahresfeste mit Kinder,
Brigitte Barz .Translated by C. Hindes. Another version also appears as “The
Last Visitor”, in Christmas Roses, Legends for Advent, collected by Mimi
Zotterman, Anthroposophic Press.
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