I love a good mystery. I’ve read several of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s, “Adventures of Sherlock Holmes” – though solving their mysteries weren’t as “elementary” as the hero routinely claimed them to be. I’ve feasted on many an Agatha Christie mystery, savoring the egotistical Belgian detective, Hercule Poirot and the unassuming spinster, Miss Jane Marple. I’ve enjoyed the works of Earl Derr Biggers who introduced Charlie Chan, and Dashiell Hammet who created the hardboiled detective, Sam Spade and the funny-loving detective marital duo of Nick and Nora Charles.
My favorite television show falls under the mystery genre, a series called “Father Brown.” It’s based on the character created by the English novelist-theologian, G.K. Chesterton; who had been instrumental in C.S. Lewis coming to the Christian faith. Father Brown is a Catholic priest, who due to his keen grasp of man’s evil inclinations, solves one murder mystery after another. You can’t believe the statistical improbability that so many lives had gotten snuffed out in the tiny fictional village of Kembleford, England. Only Cabot Cove, Maine boasts more murders per capita. It’s a good thing Jessica Fletcher lives there.
The greatest mystery of all times, however, had much more do with a life than a death. Why not come out on Christmas Eve as we probe the mystery surrounding the Incarnation of the Christ Child?