It was on a night not too different from this one. The political unrest was palpable and the people were weary. Long had they waited for somebody to save them from oppression and woe. They all looked for a mighty leader who rule them according to the laws and traditions of their ancestors. They longed for great warrior who would force the oppressors and foreigners from their land.
It was on a night not too different from this one that the world did change. And it did so not through the triumphal entry of a great warrior astride a horse backed by an army marching through the Promised Land, but through the cry of one baby. A baby not born in a kingly palace, but to a mere carpenter and his wife in the lowest of conditions — a barn, and laid to rest in a feeding trough. This unassuming child from this unassuming family was brought to this earth not to conquer it, but to heal it and to teach it. To teach the message that love and forgiveness, patience and understanding, and an honest heart are more divine than heartlessly and dogmatically following all the rules that had identified the people of God. Sentenced to death for the subversive power of His message, death did not have the final say.
It was on a night not too different from this one, yet it was different from all other nights because the birth of this child marked a life so significant, the world would come to measure time by the event. His name was Jesus, and I wish I could be more like him.
Merry Christmas to all of you, and to all a good night.