Christmas Eve, 2005:

      A four-year old boy was asked to give the blessing over the food before the family Christmas dinner.  Everyone bowed their heads in expectation.  He began his prayer, thanking God for all his friends, naming each one of them.  Then he thanked God my Mommy, Daddy, brother, sister, Grandma, Grandpa, all his aunts and uncles, and those who couldn’t be there.  Then he began to thank God for the food.  He gave thanks for the turkey, the dressing, the fruit salad, the cranberry sauce, the hot rolls, the pies, the cakes, and even the Cool Whip.  Then he paused, and everyone waited…and waited…and waited.  After a long silence, the boy looked up at his mother and said, “If I thank God for the broccoli, won’t he know that I’m lying?”

     I also found out something about how this night happens.  According to the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, while both male and female reindeer grow antlers in the summer each year, male reindeer drop their antlers at the beginning of winter, usually late November to mid-December.  Female reindeer retain their antlers until they give birth in the spring.  Therefore, every one of Santa’s reindeer, from Rudolph to Blitzen, every single one of them, had to be female.  We should’ve known. Only women would be able to drag an overweight guy in a red velvet suit all around the world in one night and not get lost.

     I pray that you are neither lying nor lost this night.  Christmas 2005 has arrived.  It really doesn’t matter whether Jesus was actually born at this time of the year; it just matters that he was born.  Whether shepherds were keeping watch over their flocks by night in the cold of winter or not is not as important as the fact that God revealed this “Good News of great joy” to them.  It doesn’t particularly undermine my faith that the Wise Men may not have arrived just after the shepherd’s departed, like we depict in our Christmas pageants.  It matters far more that they made this journey of faith expecting to see something of God.

     And why should we journey all the way to Bethlehem?  Why venture out on a night like this?  Babies do that sometimes.  Newborns are looked at a lot by family, friends, and neighbors.   Toddlers have not yet learned to be afraid of strangers.  So, we stand and gaze into a manger bed.  Some perhaps can’t resist the gentle pinch of the cheek, a comment about what side of the family the little one favors, or wondering aloud what this one might be when they are all grown up.  That’s what babies do to those who still have some hope that the world can be improved.

     I want to share a story about another baby boy this night.  It is an account from a mother about her family as they ate dinner on Christmas Day in a small restaurant many miles from home.  The miles and the cost of travel and the one-income made it impossible for them to be with their larger family.  So, Sally the mother told this story.  They were the only family with children in the restaurant that evening.  She sat her two-year old son, Erik, in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly eating and talking.  Some would enter as others were leaving and would exchange, “Merry Christmas,” greetings with each other.  Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, “Hi!”  He pounded his fat toddler hands on the highchair tray.  His eyes were wide with excitement and his mouth was bared in a grin that showed both rows of upper and lower baby teeth.  He wriggled and giggled with excitement.

     Sally looked around and saw the source of his merriment.  It was a man with a tattered coat, dirty, greasy, and worn.  His pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out of would-be shoes.  His shirt was dirty and hair was unwashed and uncombed.  His whiskers were too short to be called a beard, but it was obvious that a week or more had passed between shaves.  His nose was so varicose it looked like a road map.  Sally was grateful to be far enough away not to smell him.

     The old man waved his hand and flapped them about on loose wrists.  “Hi, there, baby!  Hi, there, big boy!  I see you, buster!”  Then he played a little peck-a-boo with Erik and Erik played right back.  Sally exchanged glances with her husband.  “What do we do,” they both thought?

     Erik continued to laugh and play and say, “Hi,” to his new playmate.  Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at them and then at the man.  The old geezer was creating a nuisance with their beautiful baby boy.

     Their meal came and they ate a while in silence.  Suddenly, the old fellow yelled across the room, “Do you play patty cake?”  “Do you like peek-a-boo?”  Nobody thought the old man was cute.  He was obviously still high from his last drink.  Mom and Dad were embarrassed.   They ate in silence, all except Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skid-row bum, who in turn, returned with his own comments.

     They finally got through the meal and headed for the door.  The husband went to pay the check and told Sally that he would meet them outside in the parking lot.  The old man sat poised between the mother and Erik and the door.  “Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik,” Sally prayed.

     As she rose and walked toward the door, she turned her back a little trying to sidestep the old man and avoid breathing any air around him.  As she did, Erik leaned over her arm, reaching out with both arms in a baby’s “pick-me-up” position.  Before she could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from his mother’s arms to the arms of the old man.

     Suddenly a very old, smelly man and a very young, fresh-smelling baby expressed their love.  Erik in an act of total trust, tenderness, and submission laid his tiny head on the man’s ragged shoulder.  The man’s eyes closed, and tears hovered beneath his lashes.  His aged hands full of grime, pain, and hard labor gently, so gently, cradled a baby’s bottom and stroked his back.  No two human beings ever looked any more natural than those two for that short period of time.  Sally was awestruck.  The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms for a moment, and then his eyes opened and set squarely on Sally.  He said in a firm commanding voice, “You take good care of this baby.”

     Somehow Sally managed to say, “I will,” from a throat that contained a stone.  The man pried Erik from his chest, unwillingly, longingly as though he was in pain.  Sally took the boy, and the man said, “God bless you, ma’am.  You’ve given me the best Christmas present I’ve had for a long, long time.”  Sally said nothing more than a muttered thanks.

     With Erik in her arms, she ran to the car.  Her husband was wondering why she was crying and holding Erik so tight.  He didn’t understand why Sally kept saying, “My God, my God, forgive me.”  She had witnessed Christ’s love shown through the innocence of a two-year old boy who saw no sin, who made no judgment.  Erik saw a soul.  She had seen just a suit of clothes.  Sally would say later that she was a Christian who was blind and was holding a child that day who was not.  It was, she said, as if God was asking, “Are you willing to share your son for a moment?  After all, I’ve shared mine for all eternity.”

     So, dear friends, look down in the manger cradle.  A baby boy will be reaching out loving arms to you and to me.  We’re not worthy to pick him up.  We’re like the old man in the restaurant.  We are made worthy by what he will do for us.  That’s the gift that gives us the proper suit of clothes. Merry Christmas.  Amen.