I once heard of a dream about Christmas. It’s not the usual dream of a baby boy in the manger in the stable at Bethlehem. Rather, the dream goes something like this:

One day, our Lord Jesus entered the office of the angel in charge of foreign relations in heaven. "I just heard that I might be making a trip down to earth ..." The angel allowed his gold pencil two taps on his desk. "That’s right ... and soon, too." "Well," continues Jesus, "what I want to know is where? Where on earth? Rome? Athens? Corinth? Alexandria? There’s a fine library in Alexandria, and I hear that the Emperor’s symphony at Rome is even better than the Athens Philharmonic, and I would love to see the Parthenon in person, too ..." His voice trailed off.

Without speaking, the angel got up, went over to the large map on t…