Meditation
for the Fourth Sunday of Advent 2017
Scriptures:
First reading
- Psalm
- Second reading
- Gospel
The readings this week all point to “the
child.” So below I share with you
something I wrote recently for a local news feed; “A Little Child Shall Lead
Them.” The article contains my two
favorite, personal Christmas Stories.
Merry Christmas.
Also if you want a family/children
centered poem for Christmas you can pull up my post from last year (2016) “Twas
the Night Before Christmas: The Real
Story”
And a Little Child Shall Lead Them
Christmas
contains both joy and pain. The joy
seems to always have something to do with childhood. Everyone has a childhood and even if
Christmas did not produce everything our childhood longings desired there was
at least the simplicity of anticipation that something good was coming. The pain comes from growing up and away from
such childhood. We often spend our adult
years shopping for children or grandchildren, in part as an effort to get back
to the joy of childhood.
I
reach back for that Christmas morning when our youngest child’s eyes caught me
as I turned over in bed. She was just
tall enough to look at me at the edge of the mattress. She was barely two and daily discovering the
ability to use language.
The
Christmas Eve pageant was still looming in her mind. She had heard her father say at the end of
the bath-robbed drama that “tonight is the eve of Jesus’ birth.” My wife and I had made sure there were
cookies and milk next to the tree and a carrot for Rudolf. Our two year old Amanda would awaken and
discover only cookie crumbs and a partially eaten carrot. Santa and company had made their visit.
But
her eyes were full of questions. I was
to discover that she had already visited the Christmas tree and she had
witnessed the remains of Santa’s visit.
Then came the question, “Daddy, where is baby Jesus?”
I
am a minister. I am supposed to be able
to answer religious sounding questions.
The cookies were gone. The nibbled on carrots were evidence that Santa
and Rudolf had been to the house. What
was I to say about the advertised arrival of baby Jesus? Before I could collect my thoughts her eyes
and little mouth asked another question, “He is up at the church?”
Perhaps
I spend my living and my life trying to answer Amanda’s Christmas
questions. All of those who seek to
follow the child of Bethlehem are seeking to live into Amanda’s questions.
Years
later another child answered a Christmas question. Christmas came on Sunday that year. I was serving a large, predominantly young
adult congregation. I knew how tempting
is was going to be to let Santa Claus win the battle of Christmas morning. I bribed my people to get them to church.
I
told them we would have doughnuts and coffee. I told them to bring the kids
with their pajamas on if need be. I told
them I would not “preach” but would tell a Christmas story. I asked them to witness to their children
that it was the birthday of Jesus and not just the dawn of the arrival of a
jolly old elf.
Christmas
miracles happen because they came. The
church was full. I dawned a make shift
outfit and became the innkeeper in the Christmas story. I was telling the story from his point of
view. I had already spoken of the many
tales I had heard from people who were trying to get into my inn on that busy
night.
I
had long since bolted my door and refused to respond to the constant
knocks. It was late. Most of my residents were sleeping when I
heard a solitary knock at the door. For
some reason I went, perhaps to let some cool air into the stuffy
surroundings. There they were, a shabby
looking couple. She was leaning over the
neck of a tired looking burro. The man
holding the rein then offered the wildest story I had heard all evening,
“Sir,
could you please let us have a room. My
wife’s about to
have
a baby?”
Then
I looked out at my very attentive congregation and said, “was I supposed to
believe such a crazy story…” Before I
could finish my prepared line, Teddy, who was four years old and whose mother
later told me had been standing on his toes at the edge of the pew with his
eyes trained on the scene shouted, “yes!”
There
was silence at first. You know that kind
of silence that can only be felt by a group of people in church who do not
quite know what to do. Then there was a
solitary laugh, and then the place erupted in Christmas joy.
Teddy
had stolen the show and told the story.
Today in a world of crumbling towers and threats of bioterrorism and
war, there comes a shout, “Yes, believe!”
I
am older now, but Amanda’s questions and Teddy’s answer give me hope and
joy. The story then and the story now
are the same, “and a little child shall lead them.”
Jody
Seymour
