Our not-quite-two-year-old’s favorite Bible story so far is the one about Jesus calming the storm. He likes to make the sounds of thunder and lightning; he laughs at the “wind” Daddy blows through his hair, and squeals with joy as I tell him about the waves by lifting him up, up, up, and plunging him down, down, down – until finally I tell him how Jesus woke up as the disciples cried out frantically. “What did he say?” I ask.

And Peter says, “Hush!”

“That’s right! And you know what? The storm did hush.”

There is something of that experience in Christmas, at least the way I’m used to experiencing it. December is generally a bit of a storm, with lots of events to sap an introvert’s energy, plenty of Christmas shopping to turn my head into a buzzing mess, and usually some good food, drink, and company to enjoy. But at some point, it’s bedtime on Christmas Eve, and there is that lovely sort of hush, the Christmas Hush, that makes me want to linger a bit.

At least judging by my social-media experience, the observation that the whole embellished tale of Mary and Joseph hobbling into Bethlehem late in the evening nine months into Mary’s pregnancy and getting turned away from all the motels until somebody offers a cattle stall for the night is biblically groundless, Westernized nonsense has gotten some traction. It was far more likely that they got to Bethlehem well ahead of the due date, were taken in by family, and lodged in the downstairs area (which would also have housed animals), where Mary most likely delivered Jesus surrounded by women, including a midwife.

It was no silent night, in other words – the bustle was probably considerable. Yet at some point – after the shepherds’ visit, I suppose – I have to imagine that there must have been that hush, with everybody asleep, excepting maybe Mary and her little boy, awake to nurse, and the quiet reality of the union of Creator and creation.

“In a world…” is the oft-parodied start to countless movie trailer narrations, trying to cast an imaginative vision for viewers with hackneyed formula. But it’s been echoing in my mind lately, because there in that hush (before the big orchestral hit), there’s a chance just to think: we live in a world where the bottom Mary had to wipe (assuming they did that in the ancient Near East) now sits on the very throne of God Almighty, if I may put it so crassly. Here we are. This is not the same world Mary and Joseph or any of their ancestors were born into. It’s the Year of Our Lord, and even if the math is off, the instinct is right: once Jesus is here, times have changed.

I treasure the hush, because it is a space to soak in the light and the aromas and the warmth of festivity, and then to take stock a little bit. Who am I? What sort of world is this? How good it is to be merry, and how good it is to sit for some few still minutes and know that it is evening, and will be morning, the great Day.

Merry Christmas, dear friends. Blessings to all of you this beautiful season!

-Ben