Stay in the manger, Baby Jesus, safe in your swaddling clothes. Safe in the manger where we can adore you without fear. Snug in your manger, Jesus, so we may immortalize you in a sanitized barn. Secure in a rustic manger where the cow is your biggest competition, far away from the human hubris that will appropriate your meaning to our advantage. Stay there in your manger so we might keep you forever, without having to worry that you might hallow the streets and condemn the sanctuaries. Sleep surrounded in your manger by the outcasts and the foreigners (the obedient poor and one Black friend, depending on ceramic configuration), so we might be content allowing others to come to us. Stay put in your manger, Baby Jesus, snuggle up with us into the beauty of Christmas — we don’t want to go anywhere.
