The Friendly Beasts

You won't find it in a hymnal (at least not the ELW), you'll hardly hear it on the radio, and it's not one that most children learn and repeat at home anymore. But it's my favorite carol. And for some reason, it makes me teary. I'm not sure why the thought of animals giving whatever they may have as a gift for the Christ Child makes me feel all mushy inside, but that just happens to be the case.

Jesus, our Brother, strong and good,
Was humbly born in a stable rude,
And the friendly beasts around Him stood,
Jesus, our Brother, strong and good.

I'd have to ask my mom to find out if this memory is really real or if I've made it up, but I recall her singing this song to me and claiming as her favorite carol too. Whether that's the case or not, it's how I remember it, so along with other false memories and stories I've made up about photographs I've seen, it's a part of my story.

“I,” said the donkey, shaggy and brown,
“I carried His mother uphill and down,
I carried His mother to Bethlehem town;
I,” said the donkey, shaggy and brown.

A part of my story, my story of Christmas. Along with heading to church in the super cold, wearing those tights and my new Christmas dress, even though I happen to be losing feeling in my toes. Singing out loud, and using "la la" when I don't know the words, since we only sing some of these songs once a year, but they're beautiful anyway. Coming home and begging to open "just one" present. Piling into the car wearing pajamas, driving across town to Grandma's, eating meatballs and cheeseballs and pickles and such. Playing with cousins, and getting oh so tired, and then going to bed...but not to sleep. Because something special is happening tonight. And I don't want to miss it.

“I,” said the cow, all white and red,
“I gave Him my manger for His bed,
I gave Him hay to pillow His head;
I,” said the cow, all white and red.

And it does happen. Not only does Santa sneak in and leave us gifts and fill our stockings to bulging, and not only does Dad have "one more surprise" when we think the gifts have all been opened. Not only do we eat until we're bulging and bask in the company of the ones we love. But also, even as Grandma gathers up the wrapping paper oh so quickly, something infinitely more special has happened. And as kids we know it. And as grown ups we try to remember. Christmas has come once again. With the mystery and the silence, with the star and the angels and the plain old shepherds standing by.

“I,” said the sheep with curly horn,
“I gave Him my wool for His blanket warm,
He wore my coat on Christmas morn;
I,” said the sheep with curly horn.

And if I'm my eyes are somehow still dry, this verse always gets me. How sweetly the dove coos. How gently the baby sleeps. How quietly we stand by and watch. How deeply we know, although we can't quite understand. How strangely God works, works to redeem this world. A babe in a manger. God with us. Emmanuel.

“I,” said the dove, from the rafters high,
“I cooed Him to sleep that He should not cry,
We cooed Him to sleep, my mate and I;
I,” said the dove, from the rafters high.

For those who are counting, the night is almost over, the day is drawing near. And soon, all that remains uncrossed on our list of holiday to do, won't matter. And all that we have done to prepare will seem unimportant. Soon, God will enter yet again into our human story, proving a love that is beyond compare.

Thus all the beasts, by some good spell,
In the stable dark were glad to tell
Of the gifts they gave Emmanuel,
The gifts they gave Emmanuel.

Shhhh...don't wake the baby.

Listen to The Friendly Beasts preformed by Sufjan Stevens