Well, the mowing is done for the season, the leaves have been raked (I hate this job, and I have 8 yards to do), the snow is beginning, and Christ is on His way once again.
I found this reading from a 1891 book, which describes different parts of our Faith. It was written by a French priest and poet, Laurent Juillard (1658-1730). It pretty much says it all, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
My brethren, let us gaze upon the Son of God in the poverty of His birth. What does He not say to us there? Let us enter in spirit into the stable; we shall hear a voice issuing therefrom, saying--
Blush at having beautiful houses like unto palaces, such grand furniture, so much useless apparel, whilst I have only a crib instead of a bed, and two vile animals for company. Blush in those magnificent rooms wherein you try to be sheltered from the least inconveniences of the season, whilst a half-exposed stable leaves Me prey to all the hardships of a cold season.
Blush at the aversion you have for every kind of humiliation, at the precautions you take to continue in a condition that flatters your vanity, at the artifices you employ to conceal a poverty you ought to be proud of, at the contempt you display to all who are not within the pale of your society.
Blush to bear, perchance, the insignia of the poverty and humiliations of Jesus Christ in your state of life, and yet try to aspire to the pomp and luxury of the world shining around.
Let us contemplate this scene as faith points out; let us enter this manger in spirit; let us see this hidden Deity who, in the darkness of night, when all creatures are silent--in want of every necessity, and is made poor to enrich us.
This Child is born in an empty stable, deserted by every one; it is the "God who created them, and whom they obey; it is the everlasting Wisdom which assists at all the councils of God, and which it has possessed from the beginning of time.
This divine wisdom, hidden in the limbs of an infant, was begotten in the brightness of the saints.
Ungrateful, deluded man, you who have not wished to know this divine wisdom in the richness of His beauty, see Him now in the poverty of a stable! Laden as you have been with so many benefits and blessings, you have not recognized the hand which has spread them over you with such profusion; you have closed your ears to that striking voice which appeals to you with as many mouths as there are creatures: O man, adore thy God! His ingenious love has suggested another voice to persuade you: He teaches you through the poverty of the crib: "Now, therefore, my children, hear me" (Prov. viii)
Ah, my brethren! What does not this divine Child say, that eternal Word which is now so silent?
No occasion to seek for rules of piety to lead us on, for we learn all that we need know and practice in this adorable book. All the prophets, all the doctors, all the apostles speak through the mouth of Him who has opened theirs. The stable at Bethlehem is the school where all Christians ought to study the science of salvation. All the ways to heaven, every path of virtue, begin and finish through Him who is the Alpha and the Omega, and being the way, the truth, and the life, He has opened the way to heaven to all.
Providence of my God, exclaims St. Bernard, how wonderful art Thou! Carnal and animal creatures have no conception of the works of God. Even wisdom itself is made flesh to make it intelligible to men of flesh.
It is not longer through men, full of a holy fear, that God proclaims His oracles; mysterious messages in shrouded language no longer issue from the mountain top amidst thunder and lightning; these are heard no more. It is from the farther end of a grotto, it is from the height of a crib, it is in the silence of night, it is the mouth of a Child wrapped in swaddling clothes that the Incarnate Wisdom exclaims, "Behold, to thee wisdom is manifested in the flesh."
Come, ye profound philosophers, ye refined politicians, ye clever men--enter into the stable; there is your lyceum, your academy; deposit your proud learning, your studied lessons, your captious rhetoric at the feet of this adorable Doctor who exposes the vanity, errors, and littleness of everything.
Let all the fire of eloquence, all the pride of wisdom, all the subtlety of philosophy, all the refinements of policy, disappear at the sight of this divine Child: Ecce tibi in carne exhibetur sapientia.
Preachers of the Gospel, happy organs of the eternal Word who sends you; you whom as well as St. John the Baptist, are only voices to proclaim the glory of God in every temple, kneel before this Child and acknowledge the Master who has loosened the tongues of the prophets and apostles, who has inspired the martyrs and young virgins with words that astonished tyrants and confounded pagan philosophers; and when you shall have adored Him silently and humbly, lost in wonder, speak and consecrate every ornament of eloquence to the praise and glory of Him who has endowed you with gifts.
Happy the docile listeners who, opening their hearts to that invisible Preacher who speaks to them through your mouths, can hear the voice of our Lord in those of men!
Teach us, then, O Child divine! We speak in Your place simply to exhort Christians to hear You instead of hearing us.
Du Jarry
On Christ-tide
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