Look! the Holy One is coming!
God, you come—
to feed your flock like a shepherd,
to gather the lambs in your loving arms;
you will carry them in your bosom,
and gently lead the mother sheep.
Into this hell of cruelty and oppression you come,
without a sword.
No power but gentleness,
no bulwark but the warmth of your bosom.
No weapon against suffering but the willingness to suffer
to hold us.
No shield against death but to die first
before it can stop you from loving us.
You lead us through the valley of the Shadow;
you fill it in with yourself leveling it.
These hands that feed us, that gather the lambs of us,
there are holes in them,
To that bosom that comes, we will come.
In the peace in those arms
we lose hell,
we find courage to resist it,
you undo it.
Hungry, weary and alone, we cry to you,
not in desperation but hopeful wonder,
in joy, even:
Shepherd of Miracles, come!
December 3, 2020