Day 18—Wednesday, December 17

In the same region there were some shepherds staying out in the fields and keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord suddenly stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them; and they were terribly frightened. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of great joy which will be for all the people; for today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there appeared with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying,

“Glory to God in the highest,
And on earth peace among men with whom He is pleased.”

When the angels had gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds began saying to one another, “Let us go straight to Bethlehem then, and see this thing that has happened which the Lord has made known to us.”
Luke 2:8-15

In the Days of the Angels excerpt
Walter Wangerin Jr.

III.

In the days of the angels—
The hair on the necks of the people,
Didn’t it stand like static?

          In the days of the angels—
The air at their ears, the cloud in the heavens,
Didn’t it crack like a solid?

                  In the days when the angels dropped,
                  Discharging news in the troposphere—
Could such electric language not
Have shot the nerves of the firmament
With signs? Signs?
White words and understanding?

Skin,
The abdomen,
And deep the human womb,
Must have been
Tympanic then.

Ho! In the days when archangels spoke—
Wasn’t the scent of the weather ozone?
Tasting of seltzer and ions?
                  And the look of the air thereafter—
Wasn’t it crystalline, cleaner,
Dimensioned by nitrogen oxides,
Even as somebody’s breathing
Swells with well-being?
Wasn’t the breeze of the evening green?

                  Surely the people perceived
That angels were immanent, speaking:

                  “A son—“
Now there’s a bolt to strike an old man dumb.
One hundred bidders in the courtyard,
Jews devout at the hour of incense,
Should have been shocked in their nostrils,
Charged by a nitrogous excitement,
Their blood a rush of bubbles.

             “A son—“
Let a maiden grab her skirts and run.
Let citizens stare after her,
Stunned, wondering
Why Modesty goes forking through the streets,
Her knees indecently aflame,
Her hair unpinned, a fume on the wind:
“Cousin! Cousin, I’ve such a thing to tell you!”

        “A virgin’s Son—“
And the father who had not engendered it
Sprang from his pillow,
The crack of prophecy still ringing in his ears.
Surely Nazareth was startled with the man,
Surely Galilee!
Surely Rome
At such an impossible pop of lightning
Moaned in her sleep.

       “A Savior!“
Then all the stars, the wheeling galaxy, streamed down
Exploding songs of fire across the firmament,
Sheeting the fields of shepherds in a flaming rain,
Gloria, roaring: Gloria in altissimis Deo,
The storm of heaven striking earth,
All angels in a fusillade!
Could anyone, could anyone have stayed asleep
When the whole air burned electric blue
And every hair on every head was singed?

Well,
If they did
They smelled the smoke in the morning
And did not understand
It was themselves
Whom God had
Scorched.

But the leaves grew greener in their season.
The vines were nourished by the nitrogen.
Oh, grapevines comprehend an angel’s discharge—
And vineyards that year produced a wine so red
That fools who lifted glasses to the sun
Were made uneasy by the crimson lens
And the dim suspicion
They were drinking blood.

Wangerin, Walter, Jr. "In the Days of the Angels." The Manger Is Empty: Stories in Time. San Francisco: Harper San Francisco, 1994. 175-177.

Prayer
Advent God, 
we journey with you,
to Bethlehem’s stable
and a new-born King,
ears attuned
to the song of angels,
eyes alert
for Bethlehem’s star.
Forgive us
if on our journey
if we are distracted
by the tempting offers 
of this world.
Keep our hearts aflame
with the hope
of Christmas,
and the promise
of a Saviour. 
Amen