Somewhere in Christian lore it is said that on Christmas night the honey bees hum Psalm 100. Here are some colorful beehives in Ukraine early on a snowy morning. And here is the beautiful Coverdale translation of Psalm 100.
Be joyful in the Lord, all ye lands:
serve the Lord with gladness,
and come before his presence with a song.
Be ye sure that the Lord he is God;
it is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves;
we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.
O go your way into his gates with thanksgiving,
and into his courts with praise;
be thankful unto him, and speak good of his Name.
For the Lord is gracious, his mercy is everlasting;
and his truth endureth from generation to generation.
I find it easier to believe honey bees hum a psalm on Christmas night than to believe the TV advertized skin-cream will take twenty years off my face, or that the bright red, latest model vehicle (that I should buy two of for Christmas!) can really crash through the white-capped river and up to the top of the boulder strewn plateau in seconds.
In this time of serious nature-detachment, we might creatively find our way to joining the honey bees on Christmas night.
