I hate myself because when I see him laid in the manager, in the lap of his mother, and hear the angels sing, my heart does not leap into flame. With what good reason should we all despise ourselves that we remain so cold when this word is spoken to us over which all men should dance and leap and burn for joy! We act as though it were a frigid, historical fact that does not smite our hearts, as if someone were merely relating that the sultan has a crown of gold.
Martin Luther, 1483-1546, The Martin Luther Christmas Book, Shepherds (translated and arranged by Roland Bainton, The Westminster Press, 1948, p.46)
Can Christmas become something we are used to and makes no impact when we hear of it? How can we avoid this?
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