"My greatest work is for nothing," mourned the Judean stone mason. "These modern men, who work too fast and make too many mistakes, have insulted a king and rejected great art for the sake of expediency," he droned. "But, alas, the king will never know it, nor the world recognize my skill. It was meant for a king, intended for a palace, meant to support a castle; now it will only crumble into dust in this neglected quarry," he whispered to himself.

As capitals often are hollowed-out inside to fit together with other stonework to meet the engineering requirements for strength, so this capital was hollow to the depth of eight or nine inches. Abandoned when the quarry shut down and the construction was concluded, it sat forlornly in a sunlit corner of the quarry, not far from Bethlehem.

Spotting the beautiful capital, a shepherd thought not of royal palaces and regal castles. He was too practical. He turned it into a watering trough for his flocks of sheep and goats, but it was too high for the lambs and the little kids. He thought to himself that it was tall enough so that it would be useful for feeding cattle or donkeys, camels or horses. This he told his master, a young man who had just opened a caravansary -- an inn for travelers with caravans. He spent a week moving the huge stone capital onto a cart, and then with the help of his donkey maneuvered it into his stable inside the walls of Bethlehem.

"What a handsome piece to adorn this barren barn," exclaimed the owner to his wife. It was the right height for their donkey, and the old milk cow felt a special ease in eating from it. Even over time the handsome capital lost none of its beauty, albeit it no longer had its significance -- that is, until that night the angels sang. The crowded inn provided no room for a young couple expecting their first child. Yet the innkeeper's stableboy made the barn comfortable with fresh straw and scrubbed the old capital clean so that it could be made into a temporary crib. Then it was that this piece of stonework truly became the property of a king, the King! Jesus made the stable into a palace and this capital, once ignored and forgotten, found its place as the manger of the Messiah, and the support of more than a royal roof -- it held God's Royal Son.

To those who were present, it is said the stone seemed to sigh and sing. It may only have been the rustling of the swaddling pads against the stone's ornamentation, or the warmth of the nearby fire resounding against the capital that glowed like gold in its light, but the legend persists that the manger seemed to sweetly, softly sing the Baby Jesus to sleep.

Some people want to believe the manger was made of wood, but wood was too precious in that region to be used in such a way. Stone was plentiful and easily cut and carved and made into aqueducts and fortresses, town walls and houses, capitals for columns and mangers for cattle and donkeys, camels and horses. Having visited Israel six times, I can attest to seeing more stone mangers than wooden ones; in fact, I've never seen a wooden one there. Thus it was that the One whom Paul would call the "spiritual Rock," Jesus the Christ, found comfort in such a stone manger bed (1 Cor. 10:4).