For a few years my dad read the Christmas story for the outdoor pageant at church. He has a great voice and I always loved to hear him read the King James account of angels, Mary and Joseph, shepherds and wise men.
I prefer modern translations of the Bible for most purposes these days. But I miss the beautiful, powerful, poetic words of the Christmas story that became part of my memory before I was old enough to know I was remembering. I think some of the modern translators feel the same way because they seem to have kept more of the King James language in this story than in other places. Some things are just too good to leave behind. The babe wrapped in swaddling clothes. Shepherds abiding in the field keeping watch over their flock by night. The angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them and they were sore afraid. Fear not, for I bring to you good tidings of great joy which shall be to all people, for unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. Let us go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has come to pass. Mary pondered these things in her heart.
Read it for yourself. http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke%202&version=KJV
Today I am reminded of a verse in the beginning of Luke, Chapter 2.
"And all went to be taxed, everyone to his own city."
In my own family travellers will come from Denver, Nashville, South Florida, Montgomery, Savannah, Hartselle, the Panhandle of Florida, and Tanzania. There will be a few from Birmingham.
To Oneonta. Hopefully not to be taxed, or to feel taxed. No, that is not the nature of our gatherings. It is a place of belonging, whether you are kin or not. Chaotic and loud sometimes. A bit competitive during play time, maybe. But everyone is welcome. Everyone belongs. All the taxation is left behind in the stores and malls, with the crumpled lists of things to do, on the office desks or lines of the day planner and on the crowded highways and freeways. This is a time to remember the things that have come to pass, talk of those things that we hope will come to pass, and savor this rare moment of the present that lies in between.
Home is that place of connection which familiar hearts seek because of what has come to pass and the hopes of what will be.
Bon voyage, on this Christmas Eve, for your journey home.
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