Immensity, cloistered in thy dear womb,

Now leaves his well-beloved imprisonment,

There he hath made himself to his intent

Weak enough, now into our world to come;

But oh, for thee, for him, hath the inn no room?

Yet lay him in this stall, and from the Orient,

Stars, and wisemen will travel to prevent

The effect of Herod’s jealous general doom.

Seest thou, my soul, with thy faith’s eyes, how he

Which fills all place, yet none holds him, doth lie?

Was not his pity toward thee wondrous high,

That would have need to be pitied by thee?

Kiss him, and with him unto Egypt go,

With his kind mother, who partakes thy woe.

From John Donne’s Corona cycle of poems. A reminder that this holiday is not primarily about sweet babies, magic,  snowfall, or shopping. It’s about the great mystery and paradox of God come among us as one of us…a mystery that Christians have been contemplating and reveling in for centuries.