You are probably familiar with the story of the woman who went to the post office to buy stamps for Christmas cards.
She said to the clerk, “May I have 50 Christmas stamps?”
The clerk said, “What denomination?”
The woman said, “God help us. Has it come to this? Give me 6 Catholic, 12 Presbyterian, 10 Lutheran and 22 Baptist.”
It never ceases to amaze me that around this world on this night among Christians of every nation, and yes, every denomination, people of every age and race and language are bowing and giving thanks for a babe born long ago in Bethlehem of Judea.
Christmas Eve means different things, depending on your age. For our children it is the most exciting evening of the year as you await the arrival of Santa. For parents it might mean something more. One unknown mother sent her own requests to Santa:
Dear Santa,
I’ve been a good mom all year. I’ve fed, cleaned, and cuddled my two children on demand, visited the doctor’s office more than my doctor, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground and figured out how to attach nine patches onto my daughter’s girl scout sash with staples and a glue gun.
I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases, since I had
to write this letter with my son’s red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I’ll find any more free time in the next 18 years.
Here are my Christmas wishes:
I’d like a pair of legs (in any color, except purple, which I already have) that don’t ache after a day of chasing kids . . . and arms that don’t flap in the breeze, but are strong enough to carry a screaming toddler out of the candy aisle in the grocery store.
I’d also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy.
If you’re hauling big ticket items this year I’d like a car with fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays big-people music; a television that doesn’t broadcast any programs containing talking animals; and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.
On the practical side, I could use a talking daughter doll that says, “Yes, Mommy” to boost my parental confidence, along with one potty-trained toddler, two kids who don’t fight, and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools. I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting, “Don’t eat in the living room” and “Take your hands off your brother,” because my voice seems to be just out of my children’s hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.
And please don’t forget the Play-doh Travel Pack, the hottest stocking stuffer this year for mothers of preschoolers. It comes in three fluorescent colors and is guaranteed to crumble on any carpet, making the in-laws’ house seem just like mine.
If it’s too late to find any of these products, I’d settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container.
If you don’t mind I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable? It would clear my conscience immensely. It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family; or if my toddler didn’t look so cute sneaking downstairs in his pajamas to eat contraband ice cream at midnight.
Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my son saw my feet under the laundry room door. I think he wants his crayon back. Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the chimney and come in and dry off by the fire so you don’t catch cold. Help yourself to cookies on the table, but don’t eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet. Yours Always, Mom
P.S. One more thing: You can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young . . . (1)
Ah, that would be nice . . . to keep our children forever young, forever joyfully anticipating the arrival of Santa, forever believing that the world is a place completely filled with beauty, and love and joy and peace. But they must grow up and learn about life in the real world. The real world sees Christmas merely as a time to turn a profit on a year’s commerce. So, yes, in a sense we would like to keep them forever young.
There is another temptation, however. That is to keep the babe in the manger forever the same. This is the temptation to come to church on Christmas eve and worship this babe and then to return to our real world lives and to ignore the fact that the Bethlehem babe became a man a man who turned over the money-changers’ tables in the temple, the man who lived his life for others, the man who loved the unlovable, cleansed the leper, washed the feet of his disciples, gave his life for the ungodly and on the third day was raised from the dead.
There is the temptation to forget that this man Jesus calls us to follow him all year long, to love our enemies, to do good to those who mistreat us, to seek to live the kingdom life every day that we walk this earth, always seeking to live as he would have us live. It’s all right if sentimentally we want our children small so they can forever be a delight to us, but it is not all right if we want to forever keep the Christ child small so he won’t inconvenience us, make demands on us.
In Luke’s version of the Christmas story some shepherds were living out in the fields near to the place that housed the manger in which the Christ child lay, keeping watch over their flocks at night. 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.”
When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.” So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger.
I don’t know about you, but I sure would have loved to have been on that hillside that night to hear the angels sing. What an amazing sight and sound that must have been.
Almost everywhere you look today it sometimes seems that everyone is plugged into some kind of music. On the street, in airports, walking alone, people are listening to music. Some people are listening, believe it or not, to religious music. Some are listening to church hymns. Many more are listening to contemporary Christian praise songs. But all the music on all the iPods in the world cannot compare to the music that the angels were making that holy night as they sang, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”
No wonder then that the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”
They went to where the angels had told them and when they had seen the Christ child for themselves, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about him, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them.
Probably their friends listened to them with skepticism. I know I would have. I mean, shepherds? Really? You mean those unsophisticated rubes with no education, no breeding? Who could take their words seriously? And angels? Who’s ever seen an angel in real life? A baby lying in a trough where donkeys fed? Sounds very Third World to me! Separate these events from the life of the historical figure Jesus, and they would never stand on their own. But because of who he was and what he taught and how he died and how he rose from the grave, it becomes the most beautiful story ever told.
Luke tells us Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. As for the shepherds, “they returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.”
What a night that must have been! I wonder what happened to those shepherds? There is no mention of them again in the scriptures, but undoubtedly they were changed men.
In his book The World of Serendipity, Marcus Bach tells about a sixteen-year-old boy from Bishop, Texas, named Mark Whitaker who discovered a new comet. Mark accomplished this feat with a home-made telescope that measured just four inches and cost him seven dollars and fifty cents.
One night about 2 a.m. this would-be astronomer spotted something in the heavens. The next night he traced the object again, and on the third night he telephoned the Harvard Observatory. "I think I've found a new comet," he said.
The Smithsonian Observatory and the Lowell Observatory of Flagstaff, Arizona, confirmed Mark's report and named the comet Whitaker-Thomas, adding to Mark's name the name of a professional astronomer who helped in the confirmation,
“There is a law,” comments Marcus Bach. “It says that if you engage in a skywatch you may see something. It does not say that you will see something, but that you might.” (2)
These shepherds weren’t even star-gazing. Later, when the magi came, they were astrologers. They did skywatch. They studied the heavens for signs. So they saw the star that led them to Jesus. But for the shepherds it was completely out of the blue, as we say. They were simply going about their everyday lives, watching over their sheep, when the angels’ song burst into their lives. But that’s the way life is and that’s the way God works. Sometimes we find God, or better said, God finds us because we are searching for Him. At other times God takes us totally by surprise.
Some of you came this evening sincerely searching for God. Others of you came for the singing of the carols, to be with your family in a safe and loving place. Or maybe you came simply to keep the warm glow of the Christmas season alive just a little longer.
I pray that whatever your reason for being here, something might happen this night that will cause you to hear the voice of an angel saying, “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.”
And then suddenly I hope you will hear in the quietness a great company of the heavenly host . . . 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.” And I hope you will leave this place a changed person. That is my prayer for you this night.
1. Monday Fodder
2. (Marina del Rey, CA: DeVorss & Co. Publishing, 1970), pp. 36-37.