Every Christmas pageant ends with the tableau of sheep, donkeys, chickens, and every other animal, as they come to visit this holy family. I wonder, on this year with too many empty chairs, whether we can find our place in that family. I wonder who we can gather around, who we can call, who we can support, who we can love, who we can reach out to simply to remind us that none of us are alone in that family. I think Luke wants to make a point to make about family, about God’s family. “To you is born this day in the city of David a Savior,” the angels say to the shepherds. To you. Not just to Mary and Joseph. Not even just to God. God’s child, born to you. To you, shepherds. To you, magi. To you, angels. To you, parents. To you, siblings. To you, cousins and uncles and donkeys and chickens. God’s child born that we might all be God’s children. God’s child born that we might all be God’s family. Around this far-flung table.