This lovely painting by Claude Monet, Impression, Sunrise, painted in 1872, is often considered the opening of a major movement in art history. Monet is sometimes called the father of Impressionism, perhaps also the first of the modernists. This painting is a favorite of mine because of the beautiful depiction of sunrise. Sharon and I have had a print hanging in our bedroom for years. Sunrise is loved by poets and artists. It is cherished by the writers of our holy scriptures. Morning by morning, we see the faithfulness of God’s love.

We’re in those days after Christmas now. How do we adjust? I need twelve days like my Catholic friends. Perhaps you have been touched, as I have, by all the angels and singing and shepherds and oxen kneeling and especially the baby Jesus in a manger. But don’t we have to get on with real life now? We will hear that “the child grew big and strong and full of wisdom; and God’s favour was upon him.” Luke 2:40 (REB) I will look soon at the part of the story soon, but just now I’m not ready to move on from the baby. This seems foundational.

On this glorious day before Christmas, in a moment of deep pondering and expectation, I’m sending along a poem that has intrigued and delighted me since I first encountered it many years ago. It’s a Christmas poem, written by Thomas Hardy in the early years of the twentieth century, called “The Oxen” (1915). You may had encountered it too.

We have just been through a horrific week: Jews slaughtered in Australia; students gunned down at Brown University, a faculty member at MIT; a Hollywood star murdered by his son even as our President issues appalling remarks. As we continue to stare speechless into the darkness of our world, we must admit, as Paul Kingsnorth is saying these days: “You just know something is wrong.”