Christmas is our most important holiday, and its literature is correspondingly rich. Yet until now no adequate bundle of Christmas treasures in poetry and prose has found its way onto the Internet for Winter, Christmas, the birth of Christ, Santa Claus, and so much more..Virgin and Foster Father
The young carpenter gave the baby to a priest, who accepted him with practiced hands, and, as he turned toward the altar, an old man named Simeon peered into the folds protecting the baby’s face, and at once fell back, shielding his eyes. He emitted a cry which attracted attention, and Joseph, concerned for his son, also looked into the folds of the swaddling to make certain that Jesus was all right. Mary clasped her hands and closed her eyes.
The old man was a devout and conscientious Jew who had done many good works in his life. He longed for the promise of redemption by God, and his longing was so poignant that the Holy Spirit had revealed to Simeon that he would not die until he had been permitted to see the messiah.
Because of this, Simeon had attended the presentation of male sons every morning for many years, waiting for the promise to be fulfilled. He had grown old waiting. The daily inspection of infants by Simeon had made him, in the eyes of some priests, a pest. Now, for the first time, he had looked at one more baby’s face and had fallen back as though blinded.
Joseph did not know him, nor the story of the promise.
Before anyone could stop Simeon, he took Jesus from the arms of the priest and, with aged eyes on the morning sky, crooned a hymn to God.
“Now,” he sang, “you may release
your bondsman, 0 Master,
according to your promise,
in Peace!
For my eyes have looked upon the salvation which you have prepared
for all the nations to behold,
a Light to illumine the Gentiles,
a Glory to grace your people Israel.”
The priests and the communicants listened in wonder.
Mary opened her eyes and saw at once that this was another in a long chain of divine manifestations. She looked so kindly into the face of the old man that Simeon handed the baby back to the priest, and turned to Mary with tears in his eyes.
“Alas!” he said to her. “This babe is destined to be the downfall no less than the restoration of many in Israel!
His very name will provoke contradiction, and your own soul, also, shall be pierced by a sword!
And thus the secret thoughts of many a heart shall be laid bare.”
This was the first that Mary knew that, in her selection as the mother of God; there would be sorrow and tragedy. If, as seems likely, she thought that her enormous honor would carry with it nothing but the pleasant task of bringing the infant up in righteousness to do the will of the Father, she was mistaken. She was beginning to learn that the work of the messiah was a study in contrasts.
He was God, but he had chosen to be born in the humblest abode. Still, his advent had been heralded by angels from Heaven. His mother was a poor, unknown virgin and his foster father was a poverty-stricken carpenter, but rich wise men had come, unannounced, out of the east to adore the baby. Now, in the holiest place in all Israel, an old man had stepped forth to state, without blasphemy, that this child was the salvation of the world. ‘Who told him? She wondered. How did the old man know? And what did he mean by saying that her soul would be pierced by a sword?
She was meditating on these things when a commotion arose and out of the crowd came the oldest-looking woman Mary had ever seen. Her face was a skeleton over which saffron skin was stretched. The woman dragged her legs forward, toward the infant, and no one tried to stop her. The priests acknowledged her presence by bowing curtly. This was Anna, the prophetess. She was the daughter of Phanuel of the tribe of Aser, and she was known as one of the holiest of women.
Anna had married young and, for seven years, had been happy. Her husband had been taken from her suddenly, and she had turned to God and the great temple. She was there every morning; she was there every evening. She had been a widow for eighty-four years and, counting the seven years of marriage, and the ritualistic age of fifteen before marriage, the prophetess was probably one hundred and six years of age.
When she had dragged her ancient frame to the side of Jesus, she peered at him, and turned away, thanking God over and over. From that day on, she went among the women at the temple, preaching about Jesus to all who hoped for the redemption of Israel.
Order was restored in the temple, and the baby was presented to the Lord. He was found to be without blemish. Joseph redeemed him with money and with a sacrificial offering of the doves. The sun was hardly at its zenith when Joseph led his spouse and the baby back to where the jackass was tethered.
Joseph took another look at the baby, to see if he could see anything unusual-any radiance, perhaps-which might have moved the old man and the old lady in the temple. What he saw was a round face, dark ringleted hair, clear olive skin, and red lips pouting a little in sleep.
He saw a baby.
