Message of Christmas knows neither borders nor boundaries

EDITOR’S NOTE: The following column by Editor Emeritus Bill Poteat was originally published in The Paper on Dec. 22, 2023.

The December sun hung low in the south, a shining globe in a crystalline blue sky, painting a false image of warmth in one of my favorite places to combine exercise and introspection — Catawba County’s Riverbend Park.

That image was belied by a biting wind blowing chill from the mountains that rose to the north and west — the Brushys, the Blue Ridge, and farther to the west, the towering summits of the Blacks, capped with snow on this frosty morning.

The fields through which I walked were brown, the frost and the cold having long before leached away the greens of summer and the bright wildflowers of autumn.

Winter had arrived.

These open fields, before they were added to the acreage at Riverbend a few years ago, were cattle country. Indeed, a large cattle barn is visible to the east of the park boundary, as easily scented as seen even in the fresh and sharp winter air.

But as I wandered beneath that December sun just a short while before Christmas, my time and my thoughts my own, I imagined those hills as home to a group of shepherds, camped on a chilly night on the edge of the Judean Mountains outside the small village of Bethlehem.

“And there were in the same country, shepherds abiding in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night.”

Those shepherds, perhaps huddled around a small fire for warmth, were not educated men, certainly not theologians or biblical scholars. Indeed, they were almost certainly illiterate, looked down upon for having a dirty and difficult job.

They were versed in neither language nor rhetoric. None held a political office. None had money or title or yielded any sort of power.

And yet, they were chosen.

“And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them, and they were sore afraid.”

Of course, they were afraid. An angel of the Lord, shining with the glory of a noonday sun, was shockingly and unexpectedly with them.

“And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.”

The good tidings were for all people. All people. Race and class and color of skin and situation of birth simply did not matter. All people.

“For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.”

Not a political leader. Not a military commander. Not a YouTube star or a reality TV star or even a star quarterback. But a Savior.

“And this shall be a sign unto you: Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,

“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace, good will toward men.”

Good tidings for all people.

Unto you is born a Savior.

Peace, good will toward men.

If we believe these words to be true, how can we harbor hatred in our hearts for anyone who shares this same small planet with us, no matter who they are or where they are from?

If we believe these words to be true, how can we not dedicate ourselves, not just during this Holy Season, but in all seasons, to extending peace and good will to all we encounter?

And, if we truly believe these words, how can we not gentle our own hearts, set aside our own pride and our stubbornness, and love each other as we were meant to do?

Such were my thoughts and questions as I wandered that stunningly beautiful countryside and sought to find not just a hill with a great view of the majestic Catawba River where I might linger in the winter sunshine, but also a place of quiet and peace in my own heart.

I wish each of you a Merry Christmas, warmed by family and friends, blessed with sweet memories, and filled with peace and joy.