What Child Is This

I just heard on TV that a motorcycle gang bought and delivered Christmas presents to a family who had been robbed of all their holiday gifts. Apparently, they didn’t know the people, just heard about it and heartened, they rescued this family from a gift-less morning, I love the picture of people on Bikes, wearing helmets with horns and swastikas handing over gaily-wrapped gifts to make this family’s day.

It reminds me of the WW1 story where on the eve of Christmas, soldiers fighting  met in the no-man’s land between them and celebrated the birth of Christ with carols and good cheer. How much it cost the first German and first Allied man to take that first step––the possibility of death put to one side in the desire for fellowship and celebration.

It’s not really the gifts; it’s not really the food––it’s the warmth of our childhood memories living once more. We try and give our children the happiness we had long ago before mortgages, illness, and failures in businesses. The simple tree or menorah or the symbol of all peoples is all it takes to change what is in our hearts.

But I’m imagining now. There were embassy bombings Christmas eve, and killing didn’t stop in Syria or the Gaza Strip. Think how cold the stomachs of terrorists are having to hate on a holiday of love and hope.

Well this brief respite is over for another year. Let’s try and bring some of these feelings into the new year.