The Christmas Kiss

I have 3 sons and 5 grandboys.  I cannot count the number of times I have kissed each them:  their button noses, their fresh from the bath squirmy toes, their skinned knees, adolescent broken hearts, their celebrations and their fears in the night.  No matter how old they get, I want my kiss to heal whatever ails them.  I've been at it long enough to know it doesn't always work, but I've been at it long enough to know to try.

Jesus was the recipient of just such kisses, too, starting in the manger and continuing though out his life.  I can't imaging it any other way.  Mary loved her son.  I'm sure she said "love" and "support" and "belief" with a kiss for all of her Son's 33 years of earthly life.

But the Christ's only kiss recorded for generations to come is the perverted one from His betrayer.  Even Jesus seems to be incredulous, "Judas, are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss?" (Luke 22:48).  His friend broke the universal unwritten law against perverting a kiss for something evil.

It started with a kiss on a baby peach fuzzy head.

The end starts again, with same but twisted gesture.

It's in our Christmas Story.

It's our Christ Story.