Nativity

And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.
John 1 v 5

The virgin is not a young woman, betrothed in marriage, visited by angels and the seed of God.
There is no loyal husband, called home to be counted.
The stable is not a shelter for animals, nor the manger a feed trough for hay.
The shepherds are not men tending their flocks upon the hills, called down to worship a newborn king.
The wise men are not travellers from the East, bearing gifts of great value.
The boychild is not Jesus Christ incarnate nor, for that matter, is he ever to be the Son of Man.

None of this story is history, nor is it reportage, nor is it fact in any sense.

It is, however, Truth.

The nativity is not the story of the birth of the son of God.
It is not the moment when Jesus takes on human form in order to save the world.
It is a description of presently lived existence.

A stable, you say? In with the filth and the muck and the animals?
These bodies, these brains and viscera are as low as it gets.
For all our intellect and monkey-cleverness, we are a prison for consciousness.
We are all God in matter, you see. Aleph plunged into Yod.

Born in a manger, you say? Swaddled tight and laid upon straw?
This heart of yours is as dry a bed as any you’ll find.
And as perfect a resting place.

The ‘Christic principle’ is the entire message of the bible – a message ignored, actually, by the church in its fixation on sin and sacrifice.
It is the principle of rebirth. Regeneration. Life from death.

The ‘Coming of the Lord’ is not one single embodiment, two thousand years ago.
Nor is it a return of a single person some time in the future, if we’re all good enough little boys and girls.

It is a daily event, possible in every body, continuously, in every moment of life.

The Source of all consciousness is not separate, removed, ruling over us, Big Daddy, Big Mummy In The Sky.
It is right here, between your each and every heartbeat, always waiting, always quietly, fervently hoping to be born.