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Sunday's Sermon
Jan 07, 2006
1054
ANOTHER BLUE DAY - The New Year
The Rev. Dennis Posno

 

On this first Sunday of this new year I have a story to tell.
It is a grand story, not unlike Charles Dickens “A Christmas Carol”,
where old Ebenezer Scrooge discovers the meaning of Christmas
and determines to keep Christmas alive, every day, for as long as he lives.
The truth revealed in the story I am about to tell ~ like all truth ~ shines through.
It’s a simple story about a man named George Mason.
It is a good story for us to hear today.
_____________________________________________

George Mason was a slim man in his late 30’s,
not conspicuously successful or brilliant,
but a good executive ~
he ran his office efficiently and well.

It was Christmas Eve and, as usual,
George Mason was the last one to leave the office.
He stood for a moment at the window,
looking out at the hurrying crowd
and the street lit up with Christmas lights.

And then, having taken it in,
he turned and walked over to a massive safe set into the far wall.
He spun the dials.
Swung the door open.
A light went on,
revealing a vault of polished steel as large as a small room.
He took a chair, propped it against the open door
and stepped inside.

Exactly one year ago ~
on a Christmas Eve that seemed a lifetime away ~
he had spun the dials, opened the door and entered the vault.
He had not bothered to prop the door open;
and the door, recently cleaned and oiled,
without his sensing it slowly, noiselessly, ponderously swung shut.

The springlocks clicked.
The automatic lights went out.
And George Mason was imprisoned
in a sudden and terrifying dark.

Panic seized him.
He tried to force the unyielding door.
He cried out, but there was no one there to hear him.

He remembered that there was no time clock to control the mechanism.
The safe would remain locked until opened from outside.
It would remain locked until the next morning.
And then the realization hit him.
The next morning was Christmas Day.
No one would come tomorrow morning.

Again he flung himself at the door …
shouting wildly …
beating with his hands
until he sank to his knees in exhaustion.
The silence roared.
Fear swept over him.
The thought of suffocating crowded his mind.

Except for the tiny luminous dial of his watch
the darkness was almost absolute.
The blackest starless night could not have been darker.

It was 6:15 P.M.
More than 36 hours would pass
before anyone would come to the office.
36 hours in a steel vault
3 feet high, 8 feet long, 7 feet high.
Would the oxygen last, or would …

Like a flash of light a memory returned, dim but intact.
What had they told him when the safe was installed?
Something about a safety measure for a crisis just like this.

On his hands and knees,
in that oppressive darkness,
his sweaty palms searched the floor;
and in the far right hand corner,
above the floor,
he found it:
a small, circular opening some 2 inches in diameter.

He could feel it …
faintly but unmistakably …
a cool current of air.

The tension left so quickly he burst into tears.
And when he had gathered his thoughts together, he sat up.
Surely he would not stay trapped for 36 hours.
Surely someone would miss him …
make inquiries …
look for him …
come to release him.

But who?
He was unmarried.
He lived alone.
The housekeeper who cleaned his house was just that,
and he had always treated her as that.
No less.
No more.

He had been invited to spend Christmas Eve with his brother’s family,
but the children got on his nerves,
and would be looking for presents.

A friend had invited him to go to a nursing home Christmas Day
to play the piano ~
George Mason was a fine pianist.
But he had made some excuse or other.

No.
He had other plans.
Sit at home with a good cigar.
Listen to some new recordings
he was giving himself for Christmas.

Who would remember him? Who would be looking for him? Who would miss him?
Nobody.
Nobody would come to let him out.
Nobody.

Time, lead-footed, moved on.
He felt no hunger, but he was tormented with thirst.
He slept a little, but not much.
Miserably, Christmas Day came, and went …
and the succeeding night.
And it was morning … the day after Christmas.

The head clerk arrived at the office as usual …
went to the safe …
opened the heavy, silent door,
but did not look inside …
and went into his private office.

No one saw George Mason stagger out into the corridor …
no one saw him run to the water cooler
and drink great gulps of water …
no one paid any attention to him
as he descended to the street
and hailed a taxi.
No one.

At home, he shaved, showered, dressed, ate some breakfast;
and then he returned to the office
where he was greeted pleasantly, but casually.

On his way to lunch he met several acquaintances,
but no one had noticed his Christmas absence.
He met his brother at a luncheon club both attended,
but he failed to ask if he had enjoyed Christmas.

It was then that the truth began to close in on George Mason.
A grim, inexorable, heavy truth:
he had disappeared during the great festival of love and joy
and no one had missed him at all.

And it was then that George Mason began to consider another truth.
He began to think about the true meaning of Christmas.
Was it possible that he had been blind all these years?
Blind with selfishness?
With indifference?
With pride?

Wasn’t Christmas the time
when people went out of their way
to share with one another
the joy of Christ’s birth?

Wasn’t giving, after all, the essence of Christmas
because it marked the time
God gave His own Son to the world He loved?

All through the year that followed ~
with little, hesitant deeds of kindness …
with small, unnoticed acts of unselfishness ~
George Mason tried to prepare himself.
Now, once more, it was Christmas Eve.

Slowly he backed out of the safe.
Removed the chair that propped it open.
Closed it.
He touched the steel door lightly, almost affectionately,
as if it were an old friend.
He picked up his hat, and coat, and a few parcels.
Then he left the office and descended into the busy street.

There he goes … in black overcoat and hat …
the same George Mason as a year ago.
Or is he?

He walks a few blocks, then flags a taxi, anxious not to be late.
His nephews are expecting him to help them trim the tree.
Afterwards, he is taking his brother and sister-in-law to a Christmas play.
Why is he so joyful?
Why does his jostling against others,
laden as he is with parcels,
exhilarate and excite him so?

Perhaps the card has something to do with it …
the square piece of cardboard
he had taped inside the office safe last New Year’s Day.
On that card is written, in George Mason’s hand:

“To love people,
to be indispensable to someone, somewhere,
that is the secret of life.
That is the secret of joy.”
_________________________________________

And that’s the story of George Mason.

Like Mary, the Mother of Jesus,
who treasured all these things
and pondered them in her heart …
George Mason pondered these things in his heart
and began to treasure them.

Like the shepherds, that first Christmas,
who returned to their daily lives
glorifying and praising God
for all the things they had seen and heard,
George Mason had returned to his daily life
transformed by the Love of Christmas.

Like the Magi, that first Christmas,
who, being warned in a dream, and to avoid Herod,
went home by another way,
George Mason was a man born again
because he had chosen to live by another way:
a way which made every day count …
a way which made every day worth living.

And here we are, standing at the gate of the year.
Will it be the same old you entering into it
or will it be a new you, transformed by the Spirit of Christ?

We stand at the gate of the year.
Will it be a year full of resolutions which, made to be broken,
for the most part will fall by the way?
Or will it be a year born out of a revolution that has taken place in your heart?
A revolution that has overthrown all of the bad attitudes
and bad habits
and bad ways ~
a revolution which has deposed all of these things
and replaced them with the rule of love?

We stand at the gate of the year.
“This is the beginning of a new day,” the poet writes.
“God has given me this day to use as I will.
I can waste it ~ or use it for good,
but what I do today is important,
because I am exchanging a day of your life for it!
When tomorrow comes, this day will be gone forever,
leaving in its place something I have traded for it.
I want it to be gain, and not loss;
good, and not evil;
success, and not failure;
in order that I shall not regret
the price I have paid for it.”
Choose to live your life, beginning today, in such a way
that you will not regret the price you have paid for it.

We stand at the gate of the year.
You will never have this day again.
You will never have this moment again.
Let this be the time when you make a commitment
to the God of your life whom you know in Jesus Christ,
to open your heart more fully to Him …
to yield your will more completely to Him …
to give your life in truer measure.

We stand at the gate of the year.
Let your life be more about giving than getting …
more about forgiving than holding on to the hurts …
more about kindness than pettiness …
more about gentleness than bossiness …
more about listening than talking …
more about understanding than judgment …
more about tolerance than prejudice …
more about others and less about you.

My late mother loved poetry
and one sentence, written by Thomas Carlyle,
was said out loud every morning.
Standing at a window, facing east towards the morning sun, my mother would say,
“Here hath been dawning another blue day;
think, wilt thou let it slip useless away?”

Well, the sun has risen.
And here hath been dawning another blue day.
Don’t let it slip useless away.
You have this blue day to live.
It is God’s gift to you.
What you make of it is your gift to God.
Make of this day something wonderful, for yourself and others.
Make of this day something beautiful for God.

And if you don’t quite make it …
if you stumble along the way …
pick yourself up,
dust yourself off,
and start again.
But whatever else you do, start.

For, as George Mason discovered …
as every wise person of every age discovers …
as Paul meant when he wrote,
“if Christ’s love has made any difference in your life,”
it is ~
“To love people,
to be indispensable to someone, somewhere,
that is the secret of life.
That is the secret of joy.”

SOLI DEO GLORIA

SCRIPTURE
Philippians 2:1-4,14-16a

1-4 If you've gotten anything at all out of following Christ, if his love has made any difference in your life, if being in a community of the Spirit means anything to you, if you have a heart, if you care— then do me a favor: Agree with each other, love each other, be deep-spirited friends. Don't push your way to the front; don't sweet-talk your way to the top. Put yourself aside, and help others get ahead. Don't be obsessed with getting your own advantage. Forget yourselves long enough to lend a helping hand.
14-16a Do everything readily and cheerfully—no bickering, no second-guessing allowed! Go out into the world uncorrupted, a breath of fresh air in this squalid and polluted society. Provide people with a glimpse of good living and of the living God. Carry the light-giving Message into the night (so I'll have good cause to be proud of you on the day that Christ returns.)

 

Footnotes

The Man Who Missed Christmas, by J. Edgar Parks, adapted by Arthur Gordon
A Prayer For Today, W. Heartsil Wilson