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When History Repeats Itself

A poem on Luke 2:1–20.

Holy Family by Kelly Latimore. Reproduction rights purchased by Presbyterian Outlook.

It was a terrifying time
Which we, by faith, now think sublime;
But then, a madman on the throne,
Drove everyone away from home,
That everyone be taxed and counted;
But this, in point of fact, amounted
To terrorism by the high,
Who gave no choice but to comply.

Think, immigrants; think, refugees;
Think how all those of low degree
In every age are made to do
The bidding of a mighty few.
Think those who fear they’ll be deported,
Their work, and fam’ly life now thwarted;
Think those from bombed out cities fleeing,
What kind of news would bring well-being?

Imagine they see in the flesh,
Perhaps in angels and a creche,
Or maybe, solidarity
With those who bear Christ’s guarantee
That he’ll be with us all our days!
Then they, as well, might be amazed—
Like shepherds hearing angel choirs—
What real love from God requires.

Thus into angst and grief and fears
The God of every soul appears,
Yes, then, but also here, today,
And bids us live just as we pray.

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