On the one side of the Jordan River was the desert, the wilderness. On the other side, was the Promised Land. On the one side, death. On the other side, life. The Jordan River was literally the line in the sand.

“We Three Kings of Orient Are” is one of the few Epiphany carols that is popular enough to be played on the radio during the Christmas season. “We Three Kings” was written and composed by John Henry Hopkins, Jr. in 1857. Hopkins served as the rector of Christ Episcopal Church in Williamsport, Pennsylvania, and he wrote the carol for a Christmas pageant at his alma mater of General Theological Seminary in New York City.

Years ago, one of the large circuses featured a Bengal tiger act. One night, the trainer went into the cage for his performance. All went well, until the middle of the act. With tigers moving everywhere, the power within the entire big top went out. For two minutes, that trainer was locked in darkness with a cage full of ferocious, man-eating tigers

“Did you see his face?” Mary bit back a sob as she continued trudging up the rocky slope.

Joseph shook his head. “Mary, every boy looks like that the first time they see the lamb slaughtered. There is a stark contrast with the red blood on the white wool. They don’t realize what death is yet. They don’t realize what it is to sacrifice a lamb. And it was his first Passover, Mary. Of course he looked like that.”

It was spring of 1977. I was a seven-year-old boy anticipating watching a movie that was going to be unlike any other before it.

My family rarely went to the movie theater, so this was going to be a real treat. My mom packed my two younger sisters and myself into the station wagon. We arrived at the theater. I was excited to see words scrolling up the movie screen, Stormtroopers miss everything, and Darth Vader use the Force against the Rebel scum.

Does size matter?

Several years ago, after a church council meeting, some of the taller guys were giving me a hard time about my height compared to theirs. They said, “You know, short people are more accident prone. That’s because they always have to use a ladder around their homes.” I countered, “That may be, but shorter guys live longer in war. We don’t have to duck when the bullets are flying.”

When Uncle Abraham offered him the choice of land for his herdsmen, Lot surveyed the land, saw the acreage around Sodom was “like the garden of the Lord,” (Genesis 13:19) and moved in. Lot pitched his tents to the south of the Dead Sea. Things quickly went south after that.

After a while, Lot moved his family into the city, where his neighbors were “wicked and were sinning greatly against the Lord” (Genesis 13:13).

The ten lepers weren’t hoping for the good life. They weren’t camping out in front of the local shops in order to hoard more things they didn’t need. They didn’t camp out in front of Best Buy for a bigger TV. They couldn’t live in their own home. They didn’t camp out in front of Farm and Fleet for good deals in their Toyland. They couldn’t be with their families. They didn’t camp out at Wal-Mart or Target or the mall. They weren’t concerned with the trivial things that can be purchased there.

n the movie, “Talladega Nights,” driver Ricky Bobby is saying grace with his family around the dinner table. He addresses his dinner prayer to “Baby Jesus.” He defends his prayer by saying that he likes the Christmas Jesus best. He tells his wife that when she says grace, then she can pray to the “grown-up Jesus,” or “teenage Jesus,” or “bearded Jesus.”

A small band has left the church and are now gathered at the cemetery. They are gathered together to lay to rest the body of their dear brother in Christ.

They understand what this place is. It is a quiet place. It is a solemn place. It is the place where so many of their Christian brothers and sisters have been buried. The grandfather who died in his sleep. The mother who lost her battle with breast cancer. The teenager who fell asleep behind the wheel. The infant who was never able to celebrate her first Christmas.