If you liked reading this, feel free to click the ❤️ button on this post so more people can discover it on Substack 🙏
In the weeks before Christmas, the season of Advent holds tales of Saints like Nicholas, who tossed gold coins in a window that landed in the stockings of poor children, and Lucy, who, with great courage and compassion, donned a crown of candles to light her way as she delivered food to fellow Christians sheltering from persecution in the catacombs of Rome.
In our previous Advent stories, here at Hedge Mystic, we have encountered wonder tales of Saints, Giles, Brigid, and Cuthbert and the animals that befriended them: deer, fox, and otters.
It is said that wild animals recognize the holy saints because they have become such perfect examples of the original intent of creation, harmony between humans and all living creatures, that their friendships display the coming restoration of a peaceable kingdom, where the lion shall lie down with the lamb, the baby will play safely near the hole of a cobra, and a little child will put its hand in a nest of deadly snakes without harm. All through the earth, the mountains and hills will burst into song. The trees of the field will clap their hands. All will live in joy and peace, and a little child shall lead them.
But other tales tell of even more wonderous happenings at Christmas, and I will tell you one today on this last Sunday of Advent.
Long, long, and long ago, in places far and wide, but especially in the northern lands, there is a Christmas legend that every farmer, peasant, and child once knew, and some still know to this very day.
The old midwives have always said that the Christ Child was miraculously born at the stroke of midnight. I do not know if this is true, but the old memories say that the entire expanse of the celestial realm stopped. The moon, stars, and planets paused in the sky, and time itself was suspended. Perplexed and awed, the angels froze in silence as the Most High, the Lord of Spirits, entered the lower realm as a human babe. Nothing could have prepared them for that, and nothing could have been more astonishing.
What happened next will be familiar to you. Some of the heavenly messengers were dispatched to deliver the news to shepherds in the fields tending their flocks by night. Other angels responsible for the new star that had recently appeared in the sky were sent to increase its brightness and steer it to where the Child was born, ensuring the Magi from the East found their way there.
Here, our tale takes an even more miraculous and wonderful turn. In the dimly lit cave—for it was a cave—snug, dry, and sheltered from the chilly night breezes, the Child newly delivered into this world is swaddled and placed in the hay manger near the animal stalls.
As his mother rests and murmurs a lullaby, the Child looks at the world for the first time through wide, dark human eyes. Like all human babes, his mother’s face is what he first perceives. Her face fills him with joy and a deep love for her willingness to bear him. In his heart, he crowns her with stars and lifts her to heaven.
But soon enough his eyes met with the docile dark eyes of the steadfast and longsuffering donkey who carried his mother thence from her home town many miles away. A rustling and stomping nearby brought his gaze to the calm and gentle cow whose dinner trough he reposed in. Her eyes were brown and patient. Nearby stood the ox. The Child looked deeply into his eyes, and surveyed his strong and mighty body, used to hard work and little kindness. Cautiously one of the curious sheep approached and looked with wonder at the Child. His eyes met hers and a recognition of what this animal represented welled up in his newborn human heart.
As Mary and Joseph slumbered the Child marvelled at the animals and understood the longing in their hearts. He surely knew that all creation was his own beloved work and he desired to give them a gift.
So they say that the very first miracle on the very first Christmas, in the very first moments of the new day was the gift of human speech given to the animals.
What it is the animals said I can only guess. But by all accounts as the ancient carol hints, heaven and nature sing, and as the old, old holy texts say
… the beasts, will teach you; the birds of the heavens, will tell you; or the trees of the earth, they will teach you; and the fish of the sea will declare to you. Who among all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In his hand is the life of every living thing and the breath of all mankind.
So for a moment the animals we are closest to, our patient and gentle farm animals and our dearly loved domestic companions are gifted a voice to teach us with human speech that which they communicate to us in other ways every ordinary day of the year. For truly who hasn’t noticed how our animal friends teach us of unconditional love, loyalty, bravery, empathy, acceptance and joy. Too many of them are treated harshly or abandoned. But many are also loved and held close in our hearts.
This Christmas eve just at the stroke of midnight pause and listen and perhaps you will hear the animals speak. But even if you don’t, take a moment and bless them, love them, and thank them for their goodness.
Love: The fourth Sunday of Advent circles us back to the primary thing, love. Who better to teach us that than the humble animals who are at the mercy of humans yet are always willing to love us whether we deserve it or not. Somehow they seem more likely to reflect the heart of the Child than many who claim superiority to them.
May the blessings of our animal companions and barnyard friends be upon you during this fourth week of Advent.
The comments section is a safe and welcoming space to share your insights and experiences.
Comments and conversation are always appreciated and enjoyed, so feel free to let your voice be heard. I read them all and try to respond to each one.
Thank you for reading Hedge Mystic and participating in this vibrant and growing community of creative, spiritual humans. You are always welcome here, appreciated, and loved.
Hedge Mystic is a reader-supported publication based on a value-for-value premise. If you find value in Hedge Mystic, support my work and consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Your involvement and financial support are deeply appreciated. Thank you.
Love the picture with your Shelties! We have a Sheltie too! She is the first dog I’ve known who needs her meditation time! It’s hard to explain but she will just stop & pause looking into herself and at the same time looking at all that is before her. If we’re ready to move on before she finishes her meditation time, she will gently look at us and then return to her meditations. She will not come, sit or walk until she is finished. I’m not sure what words she would choose but I know her meaning.
Beautiful