The mystery, the wonder, the gladness; it has not ended. Each day in the Octave of Christmas the words are cast again upon the air, resonating like ripples out into the world and reclaiming time from its insistent march away, always away, from what is before us.
In the Liturgy of the Hours, we are invited to stay, and to wonder and to marvel, and to not slip back into the rush, the illusion, the purposeful march away. In our silent wondering we find our knowing, and in our knowing, we find real joy.
This piece first appeared in 2010 at First Things.