A mass of legend and literature, which increases and will never end, has repeated and rung the changes on that single paradox:
that the hands that had made the sun and stars were too small to reach the huge heads of the cattle.
Upon this paradox, we might almost say upon this jest, all the literature of our faith is founded…
I mean that all the eyes of wonder and worship which had been turned outwards to the largest thing were now turned inward to the smallest…
It is true that the spiritual spiral henceforward works inwards instead of outwards, and in that sense is centripetal and not centrifugal.
The faith becomes, in more ways than one, a religion of little things.
– G.K. Chesterton, The Everlasting Man
As the universe expands around us, our faith, in response, spirals inward.
The Hands that flung the stars and planets into their places now reach inside us to grip and hold our hearts.
It’s the little things that feed our faith:
there are so many to remember during this month of waiting.
And it begins with the paradox of small Hands.