Do you hear what I hear?

Minnesotans are not supposed to admit to disfavor when it comes to A Prairie Home Companion.

One aspect of my Masters inheritance, however, is that I can almost always find some part of a PHC show that annoys me. (Even if that is simply the fact that Garrison Keillor ALWAYS feels the need to "sing" a harmony along with his musical guests.) But at this last Saturday's show, there was a number that was a parody of "Do you hear what I hear?" In the verse between the Shepherd Boy and the Mighty King, their response was snarky and the king's answer to the boy's question of "do you know what I know?" was all about how dumb the little boy was, because he was poor and uneducated.

I know. Simmer down, Masters. Unbundle your undies. I'm not going to unpack that response necessarily. (And I can admit that it wouldn't irritate me nearly as much if it weren't on the show of a pompous, self-important jerk. But I digress.) I'm going to step away from the negative and say (hopefully briefly) why I really like that song, tired as it is.

It is, admittedly, a completely sentimental, syrupy song in a lot of ways. But that third verse gets me every time:

Said the shepherd boy to the mighty king, "Do you know what I know?

In your palace warm mighty king, do you know what I know?

A Child, a Child, shivers in the cold,

Let us bring Him silver and gold, let us bring Him silver and gold."

The little boy is bold enough to ask the king, of all people, "Do you know what I know?" and then he goes on to tell him, implying that, no, the king in his palace warm does not know. This verse of this song is not THE epitome of my faith. But when I'm about to celebrate the coming of God into our world in the form of a newborn soon-to-be-refugee baby, I damn well better like the idea of a little child having a thing or two to tell a king - and having the spirit and the nerve to make that known!

The Magnificat it is not. The king is still the only one in the song to address others with a command ("Listen to what I say!") rather than a question. He is not a mighty one completely humbled, as Mary's song envisions. But he is a ruler who takes at least this one cue from a child. When was the last time that happened? (And I don't mean rulers acting "like children.") It's not earth-shaking, but it's hell of a thing. It makes me smile every time I imagine that little child asking, "Do you know what I know?" I know I don't, but I want to.