Christmas, A Shruggable Comfort.

The Christmas story is one of strange, unlikely, jarring juxtapositions.
He came unto his own and his own received him not.
Light entered darkness and men loved darkness rather than light.
Joy to the world the Lord has come,
And then Herod slaughtered the innocents in Bethlehem.
Newtown, Connecticut.
Such is life as we know it on planet earth.
As the poet Mary Oliver puts it,
“for it’s true, isn’t it,
in our world, 
that the petals pooled with nectar, and the polished thorns
are a single thing–
that even the purest light, lacking the robe of darkness,
would be without expression–
that love itself, without its pain, would be 
no more than a shruggable comfort.”

Posted in Staublog in December 21, 2012 by | 1 Comment »

One Response to Christmas, A Shruggable Comfort.

  1. ST122112 | Dick Staub on December 21, 2012 at 6:43 am

    […] Is the juxtaposition what keeps it from being, as Mary Oliver suggests, a shruggable comfort? Read More.   […]

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