So quickly do we pass over the
Christmas words, “Herod . . . slew all the male children . . . two years old
and under.” But the poet lingers, weeping, raging, looking at the dark spot, in
hope that any prick of light might become a portal for the sun. And what he
sees he strains with words to show—-pressing us against the perforation in the
wall of pain.
Why this struggle? Why does the
poet bind his heart with such a severe discipline of form? Why strain to give
shape to suffering? Because Reality has contours. God is who He is, not what we
wish or try to make Him be. His Son, Jesus Christ, is the great granite Fact.
His hard sacrifice makes it evident that our spontaneity needs Calvary-like
discipline. Perhaps the innkeeper paid dearly for housing the Son of God.
Should it not be costly to penetrate and portray this pain?
The Innkeeper seeks to reveal the
Light that shines behind this brutal moment in history and our own path of
Come and see!