I sat alone in church today, on Christmas. The familiar
story of the baby in the manger made me smile. Singing the carols gave me
Christmas joy. And tears. Twice I stopped singing to clear the lump in the
throat and wipe away the stray tear slowly making its way down my face. A
loved one is far away today, and I wonder if there’s a tree, or a special
lunch, or gifts, or love.
Walking out of the church, a young friend hugged me. Another
yelled “Merry Christmas, Kathy” across the parking lot. And I am headed to spend Christmas surrounded
by family.
In the car, I let go of the tears and cried and prayed aloud
that God will be present and bring Christmas joy and peace to the loved one on
my heart.
With prayers still on my lips, I wiped away the tears to
pull into the gas station. I can’t believe I forgot to fill my tank before
Christmas Day again, and I breathed a thank you to God that this station is
open today.
I pumped the gas and smiled at a lone black woman who
approached me. “Do you have anything to spare?” she asked. “It’s Christmas, and
sometimes times are hard.” I handed her two dollars and managed to get out a “Merry
Christmas” before she hurried across the street to the store there. I got back
into my car, my cheeks barely dry from my prayers, and I heard in my heart a gentle familiar voice, "When
you have done it unto one of the least of these, you have done it unto me.” The Christ Child had
come to me, and I breathed in peacefully, knowing my prayer had been heard.
As the story goes, it’s all about a baby boy, born to a
young couple on a journey by foot, a young carpenter and his teenage wife, a
working class quite ordinary couple whose hour came inconveniently when the inn
was filled to capacity. Born in a stable, perhaps the parking lot of the inn, where guests
parked and fed their donkeys; and laid in a feeding trough for a cradle.
What a humble beginning for a new life. Probably dark and
cold, maybe noisy with all the street clatter of so many travelers all
mandated there for the census, and the constant hee-hawing and the smell of the
donkeys. A couple probably feeling alone
and afraid, when lowly smelly shepherds appeared looking in on them. “We were
watching our sheep in the fields, and an angel appeared to us,” one explained. “The
angel told us not to be afraid, that he was there to bring us good news – that the
Messiah was born tonight right here, and we would find him lying in a feeding
trough.” The shepherds bowed in awe, and the couple pondered in their hearts this strange visit.
A week later, as was the custom, the couple took the new
baby to the temple to be circumcised and dedicated to God. There was an old man
in the temple named Simeon, righteous and devout, who, upon taking the baby in
his arms, prayed a thank you prayer to God: “Now I can die in peace, for I have
held in my arms the light and salvation of Israel and all people.” The couple
returned home, wondering silently at these words.
Back at home life likely became consumed with the day to day
happenings of any young family – feedings, diapers, first words, first steps,
maybe another baby on the way . . . but when the child was maybe two years old,
another unusual group of visitors showed up at the house, bearing expensive
gifts for the child. Astronomers who traveled by camel from foreign lands, who
had seen a bright new star and followed it there to see him whom they called
the new king, the long awaited Messiah.
The Jewish people for centuries had been watching for their
Messiah, one who would save them from their oppression. Was this Jesus the one?
The Christian faith was born on this premise, and Jesus the Christ is its entire
foundation. (“Christ” is the Greek equivalent of the Hebrew “Messiah,” both
meaning “anointed one.”)
Jesus grew to be a radical Jewish teacher, the leader of a
new movement with many followers. He gave sight to blind people, healed the
sick, turned water into wine, and raised the dead. He respected women, ate with
tax collectors, and cared for lepers. He taught about loving one’s enemies,
about seeing even Samaritans as one’s neighbors, about not judging anyone but
oneself, and about love taking precedence over the religious laws. He taught to
care for the poor, to welcome the foreigner, and to treat every human being as
one would like others to treat him/her.
This is the Jesus of Christian Scripture, of the Christian
faith, of Christmas. Will you celebrate him with me – this radical
Middle Easterner whose life and teachings have changed the entire world even to
centuries? Yes, with cultural traditions
of trees and gifts and children on Santa’s lap – for those can bring joy. But mostly,
can we visit the Christ, the one for whose birth the holy day was begun?
But let us be warned, you and me. Should we really see him, we will be forever changed, for to truly see the baby in the manger is to see the Love and Light of God. Jesus said when we feed the hungry, we feed him. When we clothe the naked, we clothe him. When we visit the prisoner, when we welcome the stranger, when we care for those who can give us nothing in return, we do these things unto him. And this, my friends, is Christ-mass.
He who loves is born of God and knows God. (1 John 4:7)
By this will all know that you are my disciples - that you have love one for another. (John 13:35)
For
stories of Jesus’ life and teachings, read the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.
“I hope you’re well.
Any chance I’ll see you during the holidays?” That was all the email said.
Really? During
the holidays? I have a semester to close, I thought, exams to grade, shopping to do, cards to address, and a calendar filled with Christmas
gatherings and events. Isn’t Christmas a
time to gather with those closest to us? This friend and I get together maybe twice
during a year, and she lives nearby, so there’s really no rush. I will send her a polite response: “So much
going on right now, but let’s plan to get together after the holidays.”
This conversation with myself all transpired in about 2
seconds. Then it was interrupted by
another voice. “You missed the whole message,” it said.
I read the email again, and indeed I had missed it. This time it said, “The holidays are such a
lonely time, sometimes unbearable. Since
my nephew died last year, I have no family left, and everyone is very busy with
their own families. I know you are busy
too, but I was just hoping maybe we might share some Christmas tea or bake some cookies together.”
I realized that not only had I missed the real email
message, but I had missed the whole Christmas message. The message of the baby in the manger is one
of spreading love, mending the broken, comforting the lonely, feeding the
hungry, and sharing hope with those whose hope seems lost. Sadly I bowed my head, wondering how many
similar messages I had missed. Thank you, God, for not letting me miss this one.
“I would love to get together,” I typed, and suggested some
times, including both private times and events we could enjoy together. Suddenly I realized I had plenty of time, and
as joy filled my soul, I think the baby in the manger smiled.
On Christmas Day 1863, amidst the backdrop of the American
Civil War, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow penned the words that would later become
one of our beloved Christmas carols. Two
years earlier his wife had died tragically when her dress caught fire in their
Massachusetts home. And just a few
months prior to this Christmas Day, his son, 17-year-old Charley, ran away from
home, hopped a train, and joined President Lincoln’s army, where soon, as a
soldier, he contracted typhoid fever and malaria and was shot in the shoulder
and sent home to recover. His father
stayed by his bed for weeks, nursing him slowly back toward health.
On this Christmas Day, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote the
words to “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.”
Two verses, dealing specifically with the war, the hatred, and the thundering cannons, have now been omitted from the version we usually sing, but the first verses
we have preserved reflect the hopelessness in Longfellow’s heart. Longfellow on this Christmas Day was
surrounded by the Christmas carols and all the festive sights and sounds of the
season, but, also surrounded by war and sadness, the bells rang hollow and
meaningless to his ears. Empty joys,
empty words. He wrote these verses:
I heard the bells on Christmas day their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat of peace on earth, good will to men.
And in despair I bowed my head: “There is no peace on earth,” I said,
For hate is strong, and mocks the song of peace on earth, good will to men.
This song brings tears to my eyes, not because I can personally
relate to the horrors of war or the depth of Longfellow’s personal suffering,
but because I too hear an emptiness in the sound of the bells. I too see a mocking, almost a hypocrisy, in our songs of peace on earth, good will to men. I see a Christian generation embittered by
battles, trying desperately to hold onto the fading memory of the baby in the
manger, and looking to blame others for losing him. Yet we know that we are the keepers of the
love born in Bethlehem, and that love, peace on earth, not blame or bitterness,
is our entrusted key.
Perhaps we have celebrated so many Christmases that they
have become routine and watered down in meaning to us. We enjoy the family fellowship, the exchange
of gifts, decorating our homes, the break from work and school, but does the
remembrance of that first Christmas still bring wonder and awe to our
souls? Are we still amazed that a
helpless little baby could be the swaddled love of God? Are we still astounded by those who came to
greet him? We love the story and maybe even recite it from memory, but has it become so familiar to
us that it has detached from our souls?
Have we unknowingly exchanged the true spirit of the Christ Child for
just words of a sweet story we love to retell once a year?
If so, if true meaning has been lost, can we find it again? I think yes, with prayer. The Christ Child was a
gift of love, unselfish and unconditional love, love that knows no bounds. And the message this baby would proclaim to
the world was a message of sharing such love with all of humankind. If we take the time to pray, not in mere
words, but in the depths of our spirit, we will find that love within us. It’s a compassionate love, a love that brings
peace. It will open our eyes to the
wounds of those around us. We will see
our own reflections in the eyes of the oppressed. We will remember those in our lives who are
facing their first Christmas with an empty seat at the table. We will remember those who are lonely every
day of the year, but most painfully so during the holidays. We will remember those who have lost their
jobs or whose jobs have been cut back so much that Christmas gifts for the
children will be difficult this year. We
will remember the coworker, the neighbor, the family member who needs a touch
today. We can reclaim the compassionate
love that was given to us that first Christmas in Bethlehem. It is meant to transform us.
Longfellow’s carol didn’t end in despair. One of the final verses goes like this:
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: “God is not dead, nor does He sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail, with peace of earth, good will to
men.”
The peace is here.
The love of the Christ Child is not lost, but it is we, the followers of
the Child, who have lost sight of it, and it is we who can bring it back. May we this Christmas season remember the awe
and wonder of Bethlehem. May that wonder
rekindle the true spirit of Christmas within us. May the love and compassion of that first
Christmas live anew in us, touching those around us with healing and grace. For that is the meaning of the season.
An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” (Luke 2:9-14)
