14 December 20XX+1
My Dear Lucilius:
The day dawned dark and overcast again with a cruel wind blowing, a reminder that we still have still have not yet arrived at the nadir of daylight for the year.
The Advent wreath bore three candles now, the two purple previously used as well as a pink one (“Rose”, corrected Pompeia Paulina. It still appeared pink to me).
“The Candle of Joy” she said. “It reminds us of the shepherds rejoicing on Christmas Eve.”
The Shepherds.
There was time, Lucilius, that I thought I wanted to be a shepherd. Call this being lured in by the idylls of Hesiod or a burgeoning need to get away from people that never left me, but I have always at some level wanted to be away from people and around animals. That faded over time of course: the reality of shepherds are quite different from the mystical apparitions in my mind and in terms of making a living in the modern world, it was a bit difficult.
But I do still think about them: alone most of the time, coming together periodically as dictated by the sheep and seasons, but always returning back to isolation and wilderness.
And then, something different happens.
In the modern world, we were amazed by the firework shows and bright lights that accompanied modern civilization’s celebrations. Imagine living in a world where (practically speaking) nothing was lit except by sun and fire. The darkness at night was the true darkness that the modern world pushed back so often.
And then, light and sound beyond anything that they could have ever imagined or known. A luminous being announcing to the “Good tidings of great joy”. How could these men not celebrate and rejoice after what they had heard and seen.
Did any of them survive to Christ’s last days? We will never know of course, but it is theoretically possible. What would it have been like when, closing their eyes at death, they meet the one whose life they saw at the beginning and saw the working out of these good tidings: The Resurrection, the Forgiveness of Sin, the New Covenant?
The candles were lit one after the other and we read in Luke of the shepherds and the angels and their coming to Bethlehem.
That joy still remains, Lucilius, if we will but seek it out.
Your Obedient Servant, Seneca
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