I don’t know why I was thinking of this particular song
at the particular time I was.
I was unloading some things from the car
and my aching back was letting me know
that I shouldn’t be doing what I was doing.

The song that came to mind was a song from the 1927 musical “Show Boat,”
        the song sung by the late Paul Robson  ~  “Old Man River.”
                And the part I was thinking about and humming along was not the
"Tote that barge!  Lift that bale!
Git a little drunk, An' you land in jail...” part, but the
"Ah gits weary An' sick of tryin';
Ah'm tired of livin' An skeered of dyin'” part.

Maybe my aching back prompted me to think of those words.
But upon reflection, I think it was the ache
I have been feeling in my heart these days  ~
these wonderful Advent days as we prepare
our hearts and our minds for the celebration of Christmas.

The ache that my heart carries around
is that the hope and joy and peace and love
which we celebrate with the coming of the Christ Child
are the real things of the heart that so many miss …
are the real things of living that so many never experience …
are the real things that pass so many by.

When it comes to the Advent theme today which is Peace,
for too many weary people in our weary world,
peace is not their possession.

I think of a young mother, Mary, cradling in her arms her Child  ~  Jesus.
I think of the wonder and joy that must have been hers
as she held her this Child of Promise.

And I think how Herod, in his raging,
fearful because the wise men had told him of a king
that was to be born in Bethlehem,
ordered the slaughter of every child under the age of two in that town.
The love of power struck against the power of love.
And there was no peace.

I think of a young mother, Mary, cradling in her arms her Child,
the One who would be our Emmanuel  ~  God with us.

And I think of other mothers, holding their newborns in their arms,
wondering if they will make it because they don’t have the resources to make it.
Little money.  Little support.  Little encouragement.  No one to remember them.
And there is no peace.

I think of a young mother, Mary, cradling in her arms her Child,
the One who would proclaim the justice of God for all people.

And I think of little ones in other parts of the world
who are without mother and father because of the AIDS pandemic,
being raised by older siblings or grandparents
who themselves have little to eat and smaller portions of hope.
And there is no peace.

I think of a young mother, Mary, cradling in her arms her Child,
the One who has become for us our Peace, the One we call The Prince of Peace.

And I think of the misery in the world …
and I think of the hatred that leads to violence …
and I think of the devastating consequences of war
that claim the lives of the innocents …
And there is no peace.

I think of a young mother, Mary, cradling in her arms her Child,
the One who would become The Light of the World, our light.

And I look at all of the darkness around us
and all of the darkness within us.
And there is no peace.
       
And those words from Old Man River still ring in my heart:
"Ah gits weary An' sick of tryin';
Ah'm tired of livin' An skeered of dyin' ….”
People everywhere do get weary.
People everywhere do get sick of trying.
People everywhere do get tired of living.
And people everywhere, most people, are scared of dying.

And then Advent comes …
and it comes with the reminder that we are not called to despair. 
We are called to embrace the belief that peace will come:
the peace that will pass all understanding
the peace that will end the struggle
and the fighting
and the hatred
and the cruelty
and the suffering
and the injustice and oppression …
the peace that will find its genesis in a Child,
cradled in the arms of his mother, Mary.

I’ve told the following story almost every year since the early 1980’s.
It’s not a once upon a time story but a true story
written by Taylor Caldwell about a very difficult time in her life.

“For many of us,” she begins …
“For many of us one Christmas stands out from all the others,
the one when the meaning of the day shone clearest.

“Although I did not guess it, my own ‘truest’ Christmas
began on a rainy spring day in the bleakest year of my life.
Recently divorced, I was in my 20’s, had no job,
and was on my way downtown to go the rounds of the employment offices.
I had no umbrella, for my old one had fallen apart,
and I could not afford another one.
I sat down in the streetcar, and there against the seat
was a beautiful silk umbrella with a silver handle
inlaid with gold and flecks of bright enamel.
I had never seen anything so lovely.

“I examined the handle and saw a name engraved among the golden scrolls.
The usual procedure would have been to turn in the umbrella to the conductor,
but on impulse I decided to take it with me and find the owner myself.
I got off the streetcar in a downpour
and thankfully opened the umbrella to protect myself.
then I searched the telephone book for the name on the umbrella and found it.
I called, and a lady answered.

“Yes, she said in surprise, that was her umbrella,
which her parents, now dead, had given her for a birthday present.
But, she added, it had been taken from her locker at school (she was a teacher) more than a year before.
She was so excited that I forgot I was looking for a job
and went directly to her small house.
She took the umbrella, and her eyes filled with tears.

“The teacher wanted to give me a reward, but  ~
though $20 was all I had in the world  ~
her happiness at retrieving this special possession was such
that to have accepted money would have spoiled something.
We talked for a while, and must have given her my address.
I don’t remember.

“The next six months were wretched.
I was able to obtain only temporary employment here and there,
for a small salary, though this was what they now call the Roaring Twenties.
But I put aside 25 or 50 cents when I could afford it
for my little girl’s Christmas presents.
(It took me six months to save $8.)
My last job ended the day before Christmas,
my $30 rent was soon due, and I had $15 to my name  ~
which Peggy and I would need for food.
She was home from her convent boarding school
and was excitedly looking forward to her gifts the next day,
which I had already purchased.
I had bought her a small tree, and we were going to decorate it that night.

“The stormy air was full of the sound of Christmas merriment
as I walked from the streetcar to the small apartment.
Bells rang and children shouted in the bitter dusk of the evening,
and windows were lighted and everyone was running and laughing.
But there would be no Christmas for me, I knew,
no gifts, no remembrance whatsoever.
As I struggled through the snowdrifts,
I just about reached the lowest point in my life.
Unless a miracle happened I would be homeless in January, foodless, jobless.
I had prayed steadily for weeks, and there had been no answer
but this coldness and darkness, this harsh air, this abandonment.
God and people had completely forgotten me.
I felt old as death, and as lonely.  What was to become of us?

“I looked in my mailbox.  There were only bills in it, a sheaf of them,
and two white envelopes which I was sure contained more bills.
I went up three dusty flights of stairs, and I cried, shivering in my thin coat.
But I made myself smile so I could greet my little daughter
with a pretense of happiness.
She opened the door for me and threw herself in my arms,
screaming joyously and demanding that we decorate the tree immediately.

“Peggy was not yet six years old, and had been alone all day while I worked.
She had set our kitchen table for our evening meal, proudly,
and put pans out and three cans of food which would be our dinner.
For some reason, when I looked at those pans and cans, I felt brokenhearted.

“We would have only hamburgers for our Christmas dinner tomorrow, and gelatin.
I stood in the cold little kitchen, and misery overwhelmed me.
For the first time in my life, I doubted the existence of God and God’s mercy,
and the coldness in my heart was colder than ice.

“The doorbell rang, and Peggy ran fleetingly to answer it,
calling that it must be Santa Claus.
Then I heard a man talking heartily to her and went to the door.

“He was a delivery man, and his arms were full of big parcels,
and he was laughing at my child’s frenzied joy and her dancing.
‘This is a mistake,’ I said,
but he read the names on the parcels, and they were for me.
When he had gone I could only stare at the boxes.
Peggy and I sat on the floor and opened them.
A huge doll, three times the size of the one I had bought her.
Gloves.  Candy.  A beautiful leather purse.  Incredible!
I looked for the name of the sender.
It was the teacher, the address ‘California,’ where she had moved.

“Our dinner that night was the most delicious I had ever eaten.
I could only pray in myself, ‘Thank You, Father.’
I forgot I had no money for the rent and only $15 in my purse and no job.
My child and I ate and laughed together in happiness.
Then we decorated the little tree and marveled at it.
I put Peggy to bed and set her gifts around the tree,
and a sweet peace flooded me like a benediction.
I had some hope again.
I could even examine the sheaf of bills without cringing.

“Then I opened the two white envelopes.
One contained a check for $30 from a company
I had worked for briefly in the summer.
It was, said a note, my ‘Christmas bonus.’  My Rent!

“The other envelope was an offer of a permanent position
with the government  ~  to begin two days after Christmas.
I sat with the letter in my hand and the check on the table before me,
and I think that was the most joyful moment of my life up to that time.

“The church bells began to ring.
I hurriedly looked at my child, who was sleeping blissfully,
and ran down the street.
Everywhere people were walking to church
to celebrate the birth of the Saviour.
People were smiling at me and I smiled back.
The storm had stopped, the sky was pure and glittering with stars.

“’The Lord is born!’ sang the bells
to the crystal night and the laughing darkness.
Someone began to sing, ‘O come, all ye faithful!’
I joined in and sang with the strangers all about me.

“I am not alone at all, I thought.  I was never alone at all.

“And that, of course, is the message of Christmas.
We are never alone.
Not when the night is darkest, the wind coldest,
the world seemingly most indifferent.
For this is still the time God chooses.”

For that woman, and for her little girl, peace came.
It came in many ways:
it came in the things you can touch and put your hands on
and in the things that only the heart and soul can comprehend;
it came in real gifts and real opportunities
and in carols on a Christmas Eve and glittering stars and church bells;
and it came with the overwhelming knowing  ~ that deep inside knowing  ~
that whatever the time, whatever the place,
no matter how dark or cold or indifferent the world might seem,
in the midst of it all the God-is-with-us Child came to her.
He came.  And there was peace.  It was the time God chose.

And for you, whatever time and place you may find yourself in,
this is still the time God chooses to be for you  ~  peace.
Open your heart to it. 
Let the Child of Peace be born again in you.

And for others who know no peace,
let us pray that in their times and places
people, people like you and me,
changed by the Spirit of this Christmas Child,
will be not only the messengers of peace but the givers of peace;
that they will experience peace
in the things you can touch and put your hands on
and in the things only the heart and soul can comprehend;
that they will experience peace in real gifts and real opportunities;
that they will experience peace with the overwhelming knowing  ~
that deep inside knowing  ~

that whatever the time, whatever the place,
no matter how dark or cold or indifferent the world might seem,
in the midst of it all the God-is-with-us Child is with them;
that the “peace on earth to all people” song
which the angels sang on a Bethlehem hillside
will be the song that fills their very being.
For this is the time God chooses  ~  for us all.

 

SOLI  DEO  GLORIA

 

 

 

 

 

SCRIPTURE

Luke 2:8-20 (The Message)

An Event for Everyone

There were shepherds camping in the neighborhood. They had set night watches over their sheep. Suddenly, God's angel stood among them and God's glory blazed around them. They were terrified. The angel said, "Don't be afraid. I'm here to announce a great and joyful event that is meant for everybody, worldwide: A Savior has just been born in David's town, a Savior who is Messiah and Master. This is what you're to look for: a baby wrapped in a blanket and lying in a manger."
At once the angel was joined by a huge angelic choir singing God's praises:

   Glory to God in the heavenly heights,
   Peace to all men and women on earth who please him.
As the angel choir withdrew into heaven, the shepherds talked it over. "Let's get over to Bethlehem as fast as we can and see for ourselves what God has revealed to us." They left, running, and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in the manger. Seeing was believing. They told everyone they met what the angels had said about this child. All who heard the shepherds were impressed.
Mary kept all these things to herself, holding them dear, deep within herself. The shepherds returned and let loose, glorifying and praising God for everything they had heard and seen. It turned out exactly the way they'd been told!