Amidst the hullabaloo of Yuletide
the stelliferous parade prevailed
and the motley mediocrities of shopping
sprees did not win the day—the Day
hiding amidst the schlock
shone her own stars—and the Star
that hovered over an ancient
inn, also hid amidst the stable
stuff of the day—not
Enlightenment stuff, you understand,
but the ordinary junk de jour—
seen only by shepherds and magi—my God,
what contrast, what an unearthly anomaly,
with staffs and gold, frankincense, myrrh, and the
fragrance of sheep dung, all at once celebrating
the Word made flesh, made fresh—
an epiphany like no other.

Ordained Servant Online, December 2017.