For the ancients Christ was a king. But the real Christ was outside normal schemes. He was born in a stable among shephereds and beasts, and his mother was the daughter of peasants.   Whereas other sovereigns loomed from above, stepping down from carriages and thrones to rule, he came from below, from the lowest class, to serve. He was under everyone so that he could be the universal servant: His kingliness consisted of service. Everything is simple and enchanting as a fairy tale in this birth of a boy child in the middle of a windy night, in the middle of the nights of time. And everything is tragic and revolutionary, because this birth foreshadows a scaffold. This son of the king, son of God, comes forth from humble beings in a makeshift shelter, like some refugee pushed away by farthing folk and unnoticed by the wretched: this is by no means a new revolution.    When the Saviour appeared, a great light lit up the night.The night remains, but so does the light. It’s always Christmas in the Christian world, and Christmas brings joy amidst tears still today. When God descends among us, we re-ascend to God; He humanizes and we are divinized. The meeting point is His heart. Jesus was born in a stall to demonstrate that he could also be born in our heart that is sometimes a rather squallid place. And whenever he’s born in our heart the angels rise to sing as they did over the stable that night while the moon shone in the night and peace rained down on the earth. In a similar way, the Word – Reason – incarnates among us today and can transform a stall into a Heavenly anti-chamber. Igino Giordani  Le Feste  S.E.I. (1954)  p. 36.