That day the greatest in the land were gathered together. It was obvious the stakes were high, and history would remember the actors and the drama that day.
But would we have spotted the importance of a heavily pregnant poor young woman, struggling to make a journey nobody but the inn-keepers were pleased about?
Would we have heard anything different about Mary’s birth-screams? Or the cry of the tiny babe she bore?
Would we have been crazy enough to dream that God would ever enter his created world, as a person like you and me. And even if we had, would we have thought he would take such risks, as to emerge into the world squeezed from a womb, without the aid of ultrasound, calpol, or even a midwife?
I certainly wouldn't, even if you would.
“Like a stone on the surface of a still river
Driving the ripples on forever
Redemption rips through the surface of time
In the cry of a tiny babe”
– from Cry Of A Tiny Babe by Bruce Cockburn
Those ripples carried from Bethlehem to Galilee to Jerusalem during Jesus' few years of ministry. But then after the first Easter they rapidly spread "throughout Judea, Samaria, and to the ends of the earth".
I am thankful that the ripples reached out to me over the seas, and down the centuries. And my prayer is that this Advent we continue to be disturbed and then comforted by the crying of that babe.