The words of Scripture proclaim it.
The words of the carols affirm it.
Hearts that have been won embrace it.
All of them in response to the question: “What Child is this?”

What Child is this?
The words of Scripture proclaim it.
“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light;
  on those living in the land of darkness a light has dawned.”

The words of Scripture proclaim it.
“Do not be afraid.
I bring you good news of great joy which shall be for all the people.
Today in the town of David a Saviour has been born to you;
he is Christ the Lord.”

The words of Scripture proclaim it.
“The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.
We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only,
who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.”

The words of Scripture proclaim it:
light … good news … great joy … grace and truth … all wrapped up in a Child.

What Child is this?
The words of the carols affirm it:
“Joy to the world! The Lord is come: let earth receive her king!
Let every heart prepare him room, and heaven and nature sing.”

The words of the carols affirm it:
“O come let us adore him, I come let us adore him,
O come let us adore him, Christ the Lord.”

The words of the carols affirm it:
“Sacred infant, all divine,
what a mighty love was thine,
thus to come from highest bliss
down to such a world as this.”

The words of the carols affirm it:
joy … singing … adoration …mighty love … all wrapped up in a Child.

What Child is this?
Hearts that have been won embrace it.
Into our dark world  ~  light has come …
and into our sin  ~  forgiveness …
into our despair  ~  hope …
into our misery  ~  peace …
into our sadness  ~  joy …
into our hearts  ~  love …
into such a world as this God has come … all wrapped up in a Child.

But what does it all mean, really, that God has come to us all wrapped up in a Child?

One of my little friends from years ago
was having an Easter morning conversation with his mother.
There was Stephan, lying in bed, snuggled up under the warmth of his covers.
“Stephan, it’s time to get up.  It’s time to have breakfast and get ready for church.”
And the familiar refrain that I am sure is heard in many homes was heard.
“Ah, Mom, I’m tired.  Can’t I just stay in bed?”
“No, Stephan, it’s church day.  In fact it’s Easter Sunday.
Everybody goes to church at Easter.”
And then came this telling reply.
“Mom, why does everybody have to go to church at Easter?
They’ve heard that story so many times,
you’d think they’d have gotten it by now!”

Well, that could just as easily apply to Christmas Sunday,
and I’m sure Stephan could just as easily say:
“They’ve heard that story so many times,
you’d think they’d have gotten it by now!”

How many times have we heard the story and exactly what are we supposed to get?

For me, the story begins with Christmas and its good news of great joy
all wrapped up in a Child …
as it ends with Easter and its good news of great joy
all wrapped up in the resurrection.

But it is also the story between the birth and the resurrection,
the story of Jesus’ life lived out,
that we are supposed to get.
For in getting this, and in getting it right, we get the meaning of the whole story.

Let me tell you another story …
a story that points to this life lived out
and Jesus’ call to us to live out the love he proclaims for all people  ~
this good news of great joy.
It is a simple story of how love whispered its magic word to one man.
One desolate, disheartened man.
_____________________________
And so the story begins …

It is said that many people knew that Frank Hinnant had no use for Christmas,
but few understood the reasons why he had shut Christmas out of his heart.

As the head of a multi-million dollar contracting business,
Frank discouraged office Christmas parties each year.
He gave no Christmas bonuses.
It was enough that his employees received pay increases when merited
and fringe benefits more generous than any firm in town.

His wife, Adele, was of a different fabric.
She loved Christmas and longed to celebrate it fully,
with all the fuss she could stir up.
It was the one chronic disagreement the Hinnants had.
Each December they renewed the argument.
Adele wanted decorations, a tree, gifts, even parties for employees  -
and Frank said, emphatically, “No.”
Dutifully he would go along to other people’s parties …
he would go to Christmas services as usual …
and for Adele there would always be a string of pearls
or a costly, but tasteful, pin.
But beyond that?
“Nonsense,” Frank would say, “Christmas is for children!”

And that is precisely the reason Frank Hinnant
had locked Christmas out of his heart  -  children.

One morning, a brisk December day, Frank decided to walk to work.
He did this occasionally, varying his route each time.
Frank was a man with a giant curiosity, fascinated by people,
where they lived, and how.

On this particular morning, however, reaching mid-town,
he noticed a cluster of people
standing in front of Leeson’s Department Store.
They were looking at the Christmas displays, each on a different theme.

One window had a manger scene.
Frank looked at the crèche:
at Mary, Joseph and the shepherds in colourful costumes;
the donkey, cow and sheep  -  all were life-size.
And there was the Child.

Frank turned away.  He started to move on.
As he did, a sign across the street caught his fleeting attention.

“Holy Innocents Home” the sign read.
Huge golden letters framed the arched doorway to an old brown building
surrounded by a forbidding iron fence.
Frank had only half noticed this building before.
Even now it had a way of shrinking into the urban landscape.

“Holy Innocents … Holy Innocents …”
Frank repeated the name in his mind.
He stood there staring at the orphanage across the street,
and yet he was seeing something else, something far beyond,
a long ago morning in Sunday school.

There was Miss Raymond, a skinny woman
with black hair pulled back in a knot,
and Miss Raymond was telling the class about King Herod
and all the male children under two, living in Bethlehem,
“ … and the wicked king,” she had said,
“had these little children slaughtered
because he was afraid of the Baby Jesus …”

“The Holy Innocents,” Frank said to himself.
“That’s odd, you don’t hear much about them.
Christmas is just this sentimental mush,
like Adele’s joy-on-earth stuff.
There’s more to Christmas than syrup.
There’s misery, too.”

Frank turned back to the window at Leeson’s.
He looked at the smiles and benign faces of Mary and Joseph.
But what about the parents of the infants who died?
What about their faces?

And for the millionth time Frank remembered
the desolation of the day that his son David had died.

David had been eighteen months old.
In the 22 years since then, Frank had not been able
to bring himself to mention his son’s name.

Frank walked on towards his office.
At the corner he turned and looked back.
“The Holy Innocents,” he said, almost out loud.

Impulsively he struck out on a new course.
An idea had come to him.
Quickly he covered the four blocks to the public library,
then up the stairs and in, arriving at the information desk
to fairly demand one reference book after another.
Librarians began to heap tomes in front of him …
and one stayed by his side to render assistance.

He discovered that the Bethlehem children killed by Herod’s men
were celebrated by the church as early martyrs.
And although there were conflcting accounts
it was estimated that there were about 20 children … 20 “Holy Innocents” … killed.
“Imagine that,” he thought, “20 children.”

When Frank left the library that day he did not go to his office.
He headed back to the Holy Innocents Home.

That evening, Frank and Adele dined alone.
It was a leisurely dinner, yet Frank was ill at ease.
He was searching for the right moment, the right phrases to use
when he told Adele what, sooner or later, he had to tell her.

“I had an odd kind of day,” he plunged in finally, “I went to visit an orphanage.”
Adele wouldn’t have been more taken aback
if Frank had said he’d flown to the Hebrides for lunch,
but, having lived with Frank a long time,
she registered only a mild curiosity.

“It’s that bastille of an orphanage across from Leeson’s,” Frank ambled on.
“Really a dungeon, dear, cramped and dismal …”

Adele was fascinated.
Frank was building up to something.
Now he told about the walk downtown, about the crèche at Leeson’s.
At last he told her about his visit to the orphanage itself.
“It made me realize how little I really know about kids,” he said.
“What strange little ugly creatures they are!
When I went in they stood around looking at me like I was a movie star,
not one of them saying anything.
Later one of them came up to me  -  I’ll never forget it  -
this little boy came up to me and he stood there
and he stroked the sleeve of my coat.”

Adele was quiet.
It was her eyes that urged him to continue.
But Frank was embarrassed now.
“You know full well what I’ve always said about Christmas,” he blustered,
“Christmas is for children.”

“Yes, you’ve always said that,” Adele answered.

“Well, it’s about time people started doing something for them.
Today I gave that place some money.
They’re going to build a new wing with it.”

Adele was simply swept away by the kindness of this man she had loved so long.
She thought she knew him completely,
but she was unprepared for the next announcement,
“They’re going to name the wing for David.”

It was the first time in 22 years
that Adele had heard Frank mention their only son’s name.
It made her do something she never did when Frank was around.
She wept.

Frank never told her about that moment.
He never told her how, as he held her in his arms,
he saw again something he had envisioned for the first time that afternoon.
He saw a room full of children.
There were 20 of them playing in a bright new wing at Holy Innocents.
But now, suddenly, instead of 20, there were 21. 
_____________________________

That’s the story we’re supposed to get …
the “It’s about time people started doing something for them”part.

One of my favourite Christmas poems appeared in last Sunday’s bulletin …

“When the song of the angels is stilled,
when the star in the sky is gone.
When the kings and the princes are home,
when the shepherds are back with their flock.
The work of Christmas begins:
to find the lost, to heal the broken,
to feed the hungry, to release the prisoner,
to rebuild the nations, to bring peace among all,
to make music in the heart.” 

As one man did the work of Christmas for 20 boys  ~ make that 21  ~
        because he had opened his heart to the Christ
and made room for him,
Jesus calls us to do the work of Christmas:
              to be for others all that he has been for us
                                        in order that love
may
not
simply
whisper
                                                but fairly shout its blessing to the world.

That’s the story we’re supposed to get …
the “It’s about time people started doing something for them”part.
That’s the kind of life we’re called to live:
to make music in the heart for those who have lost the song.

As God loves the world …
as God through Jesus loves us and gives us worth …
because we can love ourselves …
we are called to that same love  ~
              a love that shouts its blessing to the world.

Every time love finds expression in our kindness
we do the work of Christmas.
   Every time we care for those whose hearts are aching
           we do the work of Christmas.
                   Every time we translate our love into positive action
                           we do the work of Christmas.
                                   Every time we sing the songs of hope, peace, joy, and love
                                           not just with words but also with deeds,
                                                   we do the work of Christmas.

So let us do just that.
Let us do the work of Christmas.
For it is in the doing of it as well as the believing in it
that the story of God, who loves and saves us in this Christmas Child, comes to life.
And then, in company with others, we can truly sing “Joy to the world.”

 

SOLI  DEO  GLORIA