It brings, I guess, the first stumbling lessons in parenthood. Did Mary seek out the innkeeper’s wife, or members of the extended family to give her impromptu lessons in how to change nappies, how to breastfeed, how to re-wrap those swaddling clothes?
Did Joseph look at his family and start having the thoughts that all new fathers have: Can I do this? How do I do this? Did he start asking around if any quick jobs were going? Does he look around for angels, hoping that they’ll have some advice to hand?
The shepherds return to the fields, the sheep, the distrust, the ostracism. They’ve seen something amazing, a cosmic act of revelation, but no-one would believe them because they’re shepherds. They return to the fields, rejoicing in a Kingdom that won’t come until the child is fully grown, and even then it wouldn’t be the revolution everyone expected. Where would their lives take them from here?
In the courts of Jerusalem’s Temple, an elderly man and woman continually to wait patiently for something that’s already arrived. They don’t know that yet, of course; they continue to pray and watch and hope as corrupt men turn their house of worship into a den of thieves. How did they keep the faith as their world turned toxic?
Then there are the bureaucrats, packing away their pens and doing their filing and counting up how many citizens their bosses could tax. Didn’t they have second thoughts as the census revealed the poverty around them? Did they just follow orders? Did they have an inkling that somewhere in their spreadsheets was a secret that would outlive the edifice of Empire?
Then there’s us. We say Merry Christmas but what happens next? Was it just something to say to prove a point? Or did we mean it? Do we go back to our regular lives unchanged, or do we carry something greater into the world? Did our Christmases mean anything?
And if so, what happens next?