Judging by what has happened to my nativity scene, the Gospel story went like this: Lo, a white paw blotted out the heavenly host. It smote the wisemen, and thrice bopped Mary. And a brown leg upended the stable, and the leg sent the stable behind the very pillar of the earth. And the white paw struck the babe so that he sped to parts unknown. And the brown body, careless with delight, flung a flattening flang until it left one sheep as a browsing remnant. And the sheep browsed and it browsed– and there rose a great rumbling, and behind the sheep there was the very bosom of the beast. But lo! From on high! There was a voice like a trumpet! Such a voice made the beast cry! Such a voice bid the beast scatter! And the power that owned the voice returned the stable from behind the pillar; it restored the wisemen to their feet. It righted the be-bopped Mary. And it left for parts unknown, for lands said once to be held by Dread Footstool, to retrieve for us the babe.
(Originally posted August 16, 2014)
