You have to know your body
as the home of God
And this is the purpose of Christmas.

The rose blossoming in the wilderness
is the unfolding of your pleasure
as the fingers peel an orange and sweetness buds in the mouth.

The bright star in the night sky
is the sudden clarity of your instinct for joy.

The birth cry in the night
is your child,
falling into the dark,
and your arms holding her.

The terror of Herod’s murderous intent
is your rage that would prefer death to change.

The singing angel is your voice at church,
not sure of the tune
but certain, for a moment, that there is glory.

The animals, breathing their warm breath
in the fragile stable are your emotions
kneeling into the body of earth
at ease in the presence of God.
Mary is you
God in your body.
Joseph is you
sheltering God in the world.

This is the key to the mystery,
The Word became flesh.

We are the dwelling place.