If I shut up heaven that there be no rain, or if I command the locusts to devour the land, or if I send pestilence among my people; if my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.

II Chronicles verse 7:13-14

Five long days have passed. New Years is already a distant yesterday in the many yesterdays of forgetfulness. Few among us have been challenged by the little babe with sprouting wings who has supplanted old Father time with his grin and a sickle. Many of us have been too disinterested, too lethargic, or perhaps too wise to even make a New Year’s resolution. Others more visionary, more restless, who have perhaps imbibed of the crusader spirit, have made resolutions; we have made our resolutions in the light of our own dissatisfaction with ourselves, and the challenge of what we ought to be in 1947. But five days have dimmed our ardor. Our vision has been obscured by the grim realities of life with its desperate struggles. And now, we too, are ready to return to the status quo of 1946.

Much sorrow has made us hard. We have become calloused to the tears and blood of our broken world. The war is but a dim memory. No longer does the stench of death, the wailing of the wounded, the bursting of death dealing bombs and the devastation and utter obliteration of atomic destruction plagues our waking nights.

We have forgotten the plaintive plea of the dead:

Take up our quarrel with the foe
to you from failing hands we throw the torch
Be yours to hold it high: If you break faith with
those who die; we shall not sleep.

Yes, that’s all distant now. Time the great healer has been at work. We have so soon been made to forget.

Nor are we stirred by the things that happen round about us today. We have seen too much of tragedy to be stirred. The crashed airplane, the wrecked train, the starving millions, the mad crime-wave of youth, and the curious rumble of revolution, are all but cold and commonplace headlines in the daily press. Though the distant rumble of the guns is already heard.

The leaven of hate, which is the embryo of war, has already been planted afresh in our world. But we are too drunken with the cup of selfishness and pleasure to pay any attention to it. We are like that doomed people in Byron’s “Child Harold,” who oblivious to the cannon of the invader that rumbled at their very gate, cried out:

On with the dance: Let joy be unconfined;
No sleep till morn when youth and pleasure meet.

That was their night of destruction. This may be our night of destruction, also. But you say. Preacher, you are speaking to as Christian congregation.

What you say may be true of the rank and file of man, but have you any reason to believe that it is true of us. Let us ask ourselves a few questions. How seriously have we taken our Christian obligations which we assumed when we took our vow of allegiance to Christ. In what way have we truly taken up our cross and followed Christ. To what extent has our surrender, devotion and the laying down of our life approximated that of the utter abandonment of Christ to the will of his father, even though that will led to the furnace of affliction and the crucible of Calvary. We have stood with him as he said:

“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that stonest the prophets and klllest them that
came unto thee: How oft would I have gathered you in as a hen gathers her chicks
under her wings, but ye would not.” But when have we spent a waking moment, or
shed a passing tear for our neighbor, or even those of our own household,
because they have not come to Christ? We have heard his great commission: “Go
ye into all the world and preach the Gospel. But who among us has truly proclaimed
the glorious gospel of deliverance, even to those at our own doorstep.

What do you think Isaiah would say to us if he were to stand upon this platform this morning. I think his sermon would read something like this:

Ah, sinful people, in your fevered heaving worlds why think you can turn your backs upon your Maker and Ruler without suffering and bleeding for it? A horse knows its owner, and a dog its master, but you do not know, nor do you possess the good sense of your animals. You are a brood of evil doers; and in selfish arrogance do you imagine that you can live as though you were God himself? Nations are raping nations: man is at the throat of man. Multitudes are calling evil good and good evil, putting darkness for light, and light for darkness. But you have not regarded the word of the Lord, nor have you considered his working in this world. Has this present chaos no lesson for you to say to those who can see it; “See it not” and to those who can prophesy about it prophesy unto us smooth things that are “easy to hear!”

Hear the word of the Lord unto you. What unto me is the multitude of your religious services? Your many churches, your expansive organizations, your gold and your silver and your brass; your exclusive attention to the even operation of your churches, your desire to be nothing more than nice people, the lightness with which you regard your mission and commission — these things and many more have become offensive to the Almighty. Therefore, he will not hear you when you piously and pleasantly bow yourself down in prayer. Wash you and make you clean. Cease to do evil. Learn to do well. Seek justice. Relieve the oppressed. Let us reason this matter. If your sins be as scarlet, can they become white as snow? If they be like crimson, can they become as wool?

Many of you draw near to God with your mouth, and with your lips you honor him; but your hearts are far from him, and reverence of him is but a commandment of men that someone has taught you. Therefore, are the countries of this world desolate, and the cities devoured with fire| for upon the world has descended the Judgment and wrath of God. “Ho Berlin, you rod of my anger,” saith the Lord, “The staff of my indignation,” The sins of my people have reached my nostrils, and the stench of them is unbelievable.” Lying, rebellion, pride, dishonesty is on every hand. The punishment is sure—behold the present darkness and distress. For upon us is a day, a day of the Lord of hosts, upon everyone who is proud and haughty, upon everyone who is great in his own eyes and upon every high tower and upon every fortified area. And the loftiness of men shall be bowed down, and the haughtiness of men shall be brought low, and the Lord of Hosts shall be exalted.

But the Lord does not punish merely to quench an anger. It is clear that you on this earth will not learn except as you suffer and enter the door of hope through the valley of tribulation. Yet the Lord will not keep his anger forever; neither will he always chide. If you who now stumble in the darkness, see the great light. If you repent and say, “Come, let us go into the mountain of the Lord, that we may walk in his paths and that he may teach us his ways—then indeed it will the great day of his dawn, a day ushered in by the Lord of hosts among the remnant of the righteous. Then it will be that the Lord will judge between the Nations, and decide concerning the peoples; and they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning-hooks to this end that nation shall not lift up nation, nor shall they learn war anymore”

Take heed therefore and be quiet. Neither let your heart be faint, for in repenting and rest shall you be saved: in quietness and confidence shall he be your strength. Though the Lord give you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, your ears shall hear a voice behind you saying: “This is the way, walk you in it. And thine eyes shall see that the work of righteousness shall be peace, and the effect of righteousness, quietness, and confidence forever.

Is God impressed with the state of his church today? Is he filled with wonderment as he walks down the busy street of a large city, and sees the many giant churches and cathedrals spiring skyward? Is he moved by what the multitudes as they flock to the place of worship on the sabbath morning to sing the glorious songs of Zion? Does he sit enthralled and thrilled as the organ pedals bring forth the melodies of “Largo” or the choir makes the halls of the sanctuary echo with Handel’s triumphant “Hallelujah Chorus?”

No, God is not moved by emotions as is his creatures. He looks into the heart of the singer. He delves into the depths of the innermost being of the worshipper. He listens for the beat of the heart behind the organ, and the ring of the reality of God In the sermon of the preacher. When we speak of our magnificent church plant, and our school offices, and our beautiful auditorium, and our comfortable parlor. What must he think? And as he beholds our selfishness, our pride and our Pharisaism and our utter lack of the reality of communion with God, how his heart must melt with anger. Are we any better than the people of Babel. Are we not attempting the same impossible task as they? Are we not seeking to build our tower of works into the heavens to make a name for ourselves. And the judgment of God has visited us, and will visit us, and by chastisement and tribulation we shall be brought to our senses.

Then it is time for us to consider our ways. If we are engaged in the same senseless task as the people of Babel. If our religious life and endeavor is as hollow and as empty before God as that of Israel, it is high time we examine our lives and our program in the light of the purposes of God for us. What Is God’s purpose for his people? Why did God create men, when he knew that he would turn in rebellion, and pride and vanity, and live utterly unto himself? What is the purpose of God for his people?

I believe I see the answer in the first chapter of Genesis, where we have the record of a conference in the eternal council chamber of the trinity of Heaven. “And God said let us make men in our image, after our likeness.” In other words, God is saying: “I will make you a counterpart of myself. I will create a being capable of communion with me. That he may sit opposite to me in Heavenly places and enjoy the eternal fellowship and the glory that surrounds us.”

I see the answer again when God came to Abraham and said, “Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and from thy father’s house unto a land that I will show thee, and I will be thy God and thou shalt be my people.” Once more he is calling man for the midst of his fellows and saying, “Free yourself from the sinful society and the entangling alliances of the wicked. Go to a new land and start over again with a new race who will seek after me. That they may be my people and I, their God. I want a people with who I can walk and talk and fellowship.

It was the day of the dedication of Solomon’s great temple. The great building had been completed. The many sacrifices had been offered. The shekinah glory of God had filled the place. The people had feasted and sung psalms and prayed and worshipped for seven whole days. But when the excitement of the celebration was over, and God came to Solomon by night: he said unto him, “This has seemed a glorious occasion. But the hearts of the people are still far from me. There will come a time when I have to bring judgement upon people.

If I shut up heaven and there is no rain, or if I command the locusts to devour the land, or if I send pestilence among my people. If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways: then will I hear from Heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.

It’s the same message. Humble yourselves before me in your transgression and acknowledge your sin and your guilt and your unrighteousness which is as the stench of filthy rags before me. Seek my face. Seek to enter into communion with me. Pray, whisper what is in thy heart into my ear. Then will I hear. Then will I forgive. Then will I heal. And the communion between me and thee will be established. Than will thou be my true counterpart.

And then God came down to dwell in the midst of men. Jesus was the greatest and the fullest and the most complete revelation of the Great God himself, as well as the purpose of God. What was the big message that Jesus proclaimed to men? What was the overmastering secret of his life? I believe we see it in the first verse of the first chapter of the Gospel of John.

“In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God, and the word was God.”

The word “with” in Greek is the word “Pros” which means face-to-face with or looking towards. In this little word we have the key that unlocks the great secret of Jesus’s life. He was eternally face-to-face with God. He was the eternal son of God who lived in the vital communion with the Godhead. But a the perfect man, he also entered into a new vista of communion. He became the perfect counterpart: the perfect image of God, the man who lived in constant communion with God. Jesus was the man who truly walked with God.

That is why he was able to do the perfect will of God even though it led to the Cross. And even in the darkest night, when the sin of the world nailed him to the cross of judgement, and caused him to stagger on the verge of the precipice when he cried out: “Oh God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” In his next breath, he could still reach out and touch his God and say, “Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit.”

And that glorious communion was translated into the lives and experiences of his disciples at Pentecost. How different from Babel this was. Here these faithful followers of Christ, waited, and fasted, and prayed and bowed in humility before God, confessing their sins: seeking his face. And the Heavens were opened: like a mighty rushing wind and a flame of fire, the Glory of God was revealed, and God came down to dwell in the hearts and lives of men. This was the true work of redemption. Man restored to fellowship with God. The intimate fellowship that was lost in the Garden of Eden when Adam fell.

This was the new life for the New Year. This is what the New Life program in our church means. Let us look ourselves. What is our goal? To build churches, to sing anthems? To listen to heavenly music? To hear the preacher’s platitudes. To build a great church? Or are all these but a means to an end? How many of us have tragically erred by making this a means to an end?

The end for the Christian is fellowship with God. To walk with him in the cool of the eve, and the brightness of the morning. To seek his face, to be his counterpart. To enter into communion with God eternally. Allow me to put it in the familiar words of the Psalmist:

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness
For his name’s sake.
Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil.
For thou art with me.
Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me In the presence of mine enemies.
Thou annointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely, goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.
And I shall dwell In the house of the Lord forever.”

This is the human counterpart of fellowship with God. This is our reward. We share in the glory and the Good. Communion’s benefits are reciprocal, and when we have drawn back the vail of flesh and sin and selfishness and have entered into fellowship with God in truth and Spirit, our freedom shall be full; our joy complete: and the glory and blessing of God will be revealed in us.

On Christmas Eve, the throngs jamming the streets of Saigon will have a temporary reprieve from the staccato of machine gun fire, and bursting of cannon shells. Instead, the night air will be filled with the melodies and carols of Christmas.

Saigon’s Roman Catholic cathedral will have strange bells to ring out the joyous message of peace on earth good will to men. For a whole year, an old monk in a monastery has been preparing for this joyous day. It all began with a dream in the heart of this old monk, a dream that came to him last Christmas Eve. It was not one of those dreams that come at night, but rather one of those dreams that comes at high noon when one has all their wits about them. His dream came in response to this question: “How could he, old as he was, do something to bring peace once more to his people.” Suddenly it dawned on him. Before he had become a monk, he had been a metal worker. He would employ his old trade to fashion a witness, to tell the world what Christmas was all about.

During the Tet offensive, he had the beggar boys of Saigon round up all the cannon shells they could find on the streets of Saigon. Each boy who brought in a shell got a warm bowl of soup and a penny. Soon he had a whole pile of shells of every assortment. Some had come out of China and Russia. Others had come out of the United States and Australia. Soon he began to work industriously on a metal lathe he had scrounged from an old metal shop that had been destroyed. Out of this strange collection of cannon shells, he fashioned a beautiful sounding set of bells, each cut and tuned to its own pitch. On Christmas Eve, the crowds would jam the Catholic cathedral in Saigon to hear the old monk take his xylophone hammers and play the sweet music of Christmas of peace on earth and goodwill to men—on his bells that were really converted cannon shells. This is one the old monk’s way of saying that cannon shells can be used for better things than killing men. They make beautiful bells to ring out the message of Christmas. As I read this story, I could not help but reflect on it. Is this not what Christmas is all about?

Then I remembered the words of Isaiah the prophet, which are later quoted by Micah as he proclaimed the good news of the Messiah:

The messiah shall judge between the nations,
And shall decide for many peoples.
And they shall beat their swords into plowshares,
And their spears into pruning hooks.
Nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
Neither shall they learn war anymore.
(Isaiah 2 vs 4):

While looking in my concordance to see exactly where this quotation from Isaiah was found, I made a strange discovery. Joel the prophet of doom, who wrote some two hundred years after Isaiah, turned these words completely around. He wrote:

Proclaim this among the nations.
Prepare war,
Stir up the mighty men.
Let all the men of war draw near,
Let them come up.
Beat your plowshares into swords,
And your pruning hooks into spears,
And let the weak say, I am a warrior.

The strange thing is that Joel too was talking about the day of the Messiah. But now instead of beating their “swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks,” they were going to do just the opposite. The plowshares were to be beaten into swords and pruning hooks into spears. Even the weak would study war and become warriors.

As I began to ruminate upon this whole thing, it suddenly dawned on me that in this beautiful story of the old monk who fashioned a set of Christmas bells out of old cannon shells, I had stumbled on a beautiful parable of what Christmas was all about. More than that I had opened up the door leading to one of the great mysteries of the Old Testament, prophets.

The great mystery of the Old Testament prophets was this: they actually had two opposite prophetic strains as to what the day of the Messiah would be. For prophets like Isaiah, the day of the kingdom of the Messiah would be one of great peace, when the whole world would be brought back into harmony. It would not only be a day “when they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks.” But:

There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse,
and a branch shall grow out of his roots.
And the spirit of the lord shall rest upon him the spirit of wisdom and understanding,
The spirit of counsel and of might,
The spirit of knowledge and the fear of the lord…
Righteousness shall be the girdle of his waist
And faithfulness the girdle of his loins….

His name shall be called wonderful counsellor,
Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace,
And of the increase of his government and of peace there shall be no end.           

And this will be the kind of lewdly the Isiah will usher in:

The wolf shall dwell with the lamb,
And the leopard shall lie down with the kid,
And the calf and the lion and the fatling together,
And a little child shall lead them.
The cow and the bear shall feed,
And their young shall lie down together.
The lion shall eat straw like the ox.
The sucking child shall play over the hole of the asp,
And the weaned child shall put his hand on the adder’s den.
They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain:
For the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the lord
As the waters cover the sea.

This was Isaiah^[I] s great dream for the future when the Messiah would come. War would be no more. God’s people would no longer be wanderers on the earth, nor would they need to keep their land by the sword. Even all nature would be brought into harmony and peace. Healing from the Messiah would make whole the vast expanse of the universe—the world of man and of beast and of nature. These would be made one by the Prince of Peace—who with his righteousness and wonderful counsel would rule the whole universe from Mount Zion.

But now let us look at the other side of the paradox: when we turn to the prophet Joel. He has just the opposite view as to what the day of the Messiah would be like. He sees the day of the Messiah as the last day when the grim reaper will put in his sickle and reap the wicked from the face of the earth. Instead of it being a day of salvation and peace it will be a day of war, bloodshed and ultimately doom.

Listen to his prophetic word:
Proclaim this among the nations:
Prepare war,
Stir up the mighty men.
Let all the men of war draw near,
Let them come up.
Beat your plowshares into swords,
And your pruning hooks into spears,
Let the weak say: “I am a warrior.”

Hasten and come,
All you nations roundabout,
Gather yourselves there.
Bring down thy warriors oh Lord.
Let the nations bestir themselves.
And come up to the valley of Armageddon
For there I will sit to judge and all the nations round about.

Put in the sickle,
For the harvest is ripe.
Go in, tread,
For the winepress is full,
The vats overflow,
For their wickedness is great.

Multitudes, multitudes in the valley of decision!
For the day of the Lord is near
In the valley of decision!
The sun and the moon are darkened
And the stars withdraw their shining

And the lord roars from Zion,
And utters his voice from Jerusalem,
And the heavens and earth shake.

Now how do we understand this strange paradox—this strange dream of two days of the Lord—directly opposite. The day of despair and doom—or it could be the day of hope and salvation and peace for all mankind?

I think the answer is very plain. The prophets of Israel did not have a closed future. The future could go either way—the day of despair and doom—or the day of hope and salvation and peace for all mankind.

Of course, the big question is this: what determines the future? Who is to say whether the day of the Lord would be the day of doom or the day of hope and salvation. As you study the prophets, you cannot help but realize that the answer is really in man^’s hand. In a real sense, what man does is all important. God has structured history that way. As a man sows, so shall he reap. If he sows righteousness, he shall reap peace. If he sows hostility and anger with his brother, the day of the Lord will be a day of doom.

Here then is the meaning of our parable: cannon shells can make wonderful Christmas bells. It all depends on what the metal worker wants them to be. They can either be fired from cannons to kill one another, or they can be struck with hammers and produce the beautiful music about peace on earth, goodwill towards man.

With each day, man has become the determiner of his own destiny. When man first learned to shape crude stone implements, he was the one who would determine whether that sharpened stone with a handle in it would be used as an axe to split wood for his fire, or as a tomahawk to bash in his brother’s skull. Only that primitive man could determine what that new world of the carved stone would be.

When man learned the trick of reducing the metal in rocks to bronze and iron—and then to shape it and put it to use—only he could determine if it should be turned into a plow to multiply his crops, and a pruning hook to hook the fruit off the vine, or whether he would shape it into a spear and a sword to destroy his brother, or perhaps for his brother to destroy him. Each new day—in a sense hastened the day of the Messiah. But the big question was this: Would the day of the Messiah be the day of doom, or would it be the day of salvation.

Now we are living in this fast advancing and most exciting twentieth century. In our lifetime we have mastered the land, sea, and air. However, once more we are faced with the agelong question: “Will we hasten the day of despair and doom, or will we further the age of hope and peace?” The mastery of the atom has opened wide two doors into the future. The one is a door of listless power to be turned to the advantage of man—it is a power that can drive a submarine under the ice of the North Pole, to emerge safely on the other side of the ice. It is a power that may provide all the energy to feed and clothe man as he is faced with an age of overpopulation and scarcity. It is a power that can be loosed on a human body ravaged by disease, and it can actually destroy the disease. The atom has and can, as we learn more about it and master it, open the door to a new day. But herein lies the paradox of the atom, with it we have produced hydrogen bombs by the thousands—which if we loose them upon the earth will destroy us.

Take another example. We have produced giant planes that will be in the air travelling at twice, three times and even four times the speed of sound. They can do two things—they can bring our brother closer, even if he lives at the other end of the world. They can bring him closer so that we can come to know him and love and appreciate him. On the other hand, they can also bring our brother closer, so that we can hate him and destroy him. We can even carry our hydrogen bombs in these giant planes—bombs that will destroy both our brother and us.

In this exciting day, we have learned different kinds of germ warfare. We have learned how to destroy germs that destroy us. We have also learned germ warfare, where we can use the world of germs to destroy our brother. You see, its always the paradoxes. Tomorrow is the future — tomorrow is open. It can either spell Armageddon or the kingdom of peace—Mount Zion.

Now this is what the story of Christmas was all about. God sent his son into the world to show us how to make bells from cannon shells, to ring out the good news of peace on earth goodwill to men. How did God tell this story? He told it through the living word of his only begotten son. And the Apostle John could write: “And the word became flesh and dwelt among us—and we beheld his glory as of the only begotten of the father.”

What was this word that God spoke through Jesus Christ. It was the word about love in the world. Even in the people around the life of the living Lord there was this kind of love. Joseph had enough love for Mary, that he did not push her away, when he found that she was of child by someone besides himself. I recently heard someone say: “We have really been too hard on the innkeeper.” he could have turned this young couple away from his door. He did the best thing he could. In deep compassion, he took them out to the stable and put fresh hay in a manger, so that the weary and expecting parents could spend a comfortable night. Loving parents spirited the child away from the wrath of the jealous, crazed Herod.

But love takes the center stage in the child of Bethlehem, the man of Nazareth, the crucified one of Golgotha—the resurrected one on the road to Emmaus. He not only taught that you should love the poor and the downtrodden—he also lived that love among them—creating the miracle of bread for the hungry—and someone has astutely pointed out that perhaps the great miracle of the feeding of the five thousand was that it inspired a lad to share his meager lunch with so many, even at the risk of not getting any himself.

He spent most of his time loving the unloved. He not only taught: “love your enemies,” he literally loved them, asking forgiveness for those who had degraded the name of justice by falsely accusing him —and falsely condemning him, and turning him in his innocence over to the crucifiers—asking forgiveness for the Roman soldiers who drove the nails—and perhaps hardest of all, preparing a breakfast for his disciples the day after his resurrection—after they had let him down and fled on the day of the cross.

He could have taken the other route. On Palm Sunday, they wanted him to be a king. They wanted him to take the sword and the spear. The wanted him to use the guns and the shells against the enemies and the oppressors. But he chose the other. His kingdom was not of this world or of war and hate and power struggles and all the rest.

Instead, he took the low road of humility, riding into Jerusalem on the lowly donkey. He chose the suffering of Gethsemane— sweating it out alone, when he could have had the acclaim of the crowd if he would only become their strong, warring Messiah. Instead of reigning from David’s throne—he chose to reign from a cross. Greater love has no man than this that a man lay down his life for his friends.

The cross is strangely shaped like a key. Indeed, he was giving to the world their key to the future of hope. This is what Christmas means. That is why wisemen followed a star so far to come to pay him obeisance. He came to show the world how to make a Christmas bell out of a shell.

You know the other night I succumbed to the temptation to accompany my wife on a shopping tour of the local mall. At one point while I stood waiting for her for a few moments, I just watched the crowd. I could not help but ask: “Why all this madness at Christmas time?” People were tearing things from the tables, grasping at things from their neighbors—slowly but surely emptying the shelves of everything worthwhile and useless. Why all this madness? Was it the madness of guilt on the part of over-indulgent parents who were trying to make it up to their children at Christmas for what they had not given them of themselves during the past year? Was it the last gasp of a generation feeling the impending doom, and this was their last chance to spend—to grasp — to get?

I do not know just what this madness means, but this I know. Somewhere or other we have lost the star. We are as anxious as the Magi when the lost the star and stumbled around the court of Herod. The tragedy is this: if we lose this star too long, it may be too late. Armageddon may be upon us. This is the paradox of life. But Christmas opens the door to hope.

Robert Frost put it this way:

So, at times when the mob is swayed
To carry praise or blame too far.
We may choose something like a star,
To stay our minds on and be stayed.

This is the message of Christmas —follow the wise men. Zero in on a Star. It will lead you to Bethlehem.

For in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting light
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee tonight.

It’s not too late. Let’s turn our cannon shells into Christmas bells.

---

 

There is a marvelous description of God, in the Book of Deuteronomy Chapter 32 verse 11:

“Like and eagle that stirs up its nest that flutters over its young spreading out its wings catching them bearing them on its pinions.”

The picture that the verse presents is really this. The mother eagle builds a nest with twigs and down for her young. When she judges them ready to fly, she flaps her wings which span almost six feet directly on front of the nest. The force created by her fluttering causes all the soft down lining to be blown from the nest. The sticks then poke into the tender bellies of the young, making their once comfortable home too uncomfortable to stay in any longer. Those who can take their first flight. Those who cannot, crawl onto their mother’s wings and glide with her. She will then suddenly dive down causing those perched on her wings to fall away from her. They will flap their wings until they take flight. She hovers nearby ready to pick than up and carry them on her wings when they tire.

The writer of the Book of Deuteronomy saw God acting just like the mother eagle in pushing Israel out of the nest in Egypt and teaching them to fly into the land of freedom. He did not abandon them after they began to fly. He was always there to sustain them and rescue them when they were about to falter. There is a sense in which this is a wonderful model for a description of the church. It is a place where people learn to grow and spread their own wings. A place from which one can chart one’s own flight. From time to time the prophet or preacher must stir the air around those who are seemingly unwilling to take their first flight. Last Sunday’s sermon was a nest stirring time. But I do hope that the pastor and other Christians are always there undergird those who are taking their first flight or those who grow weary along the way.

Today we are talking on what it means to be a saint. Last Sunday I identified Pope John XXIII and Mother Theresa as models for what it means to be a Christian. I think I could have included a Protestant in that group—namely Dag Hammarskjold, the first Secretary of the United Nations.

I would like to say that this simile of the eagle is certainly a beautiful description of what it means to be a saint. Saints were indeed people with wide wing spans. Like the mother eagle, saints knew just when the world was ready to fly, and they too flapped their wings and blew the soft down out of the nest, awaking the world out of its lethargy and causing those who followed them to fly to new heights and catch a new vision of what the world could be.

Last week I told you about the young custodian in Coventry who went out into the ruined Cathedral the morning after the city was firebombed and almost totally destroyed—that young man took two charred beams and tied themtogether in the form of a cross and planted it where the Cathedral’s high altar had been. He then took another charred piece of wood and used it as a giant pen to write on the wall behind the cross he had just planted: “Father forgive them.” Later as the people of Coventry came to view the ruins of the Cathedral, they were deeply moved by the cross and the inscription. It turned the hatred of the whole town into the spirit of forgiveness. He was the person of the moment who transformed the attitude of the whole city and gave impetus to a new day of rebuilding, forgiveness, and reconciliation. Today their new cathedral stands as a monument to this kind of reconciling and forgiving love. This to me is another beautiful vignette of a saint.

While traveling to Coventry, our group was able to participate in the noon vigil for peace. I was very impressed with the litany for peace used in the service. They did not have extra copies of the little booklet at the time, so I gave the leader a pound and she promised to send me a copy when they replenished their supply. This week I received this little booklet. In it I discovered another beautiful example of what it means to be a saint. It comes from a prayer found at the Ravensbrook Concentration Camp where 92,000 women and children died in the gas chambers. The prayer went like this:

“Lord, remember that not only the men and the women of goodwill, but also those of ill-will. But do not only remember the suffering they have inflicted on us. Remember the fruits we bore thanks to in this suffering:

Our comradeship

Our loyalty

Our humility

Courage the generosity.

The greatness of heart which has grown out of this. And when they come to judgment let all the fruits which we have borne be their forgiveness.

They had learned well from their crucified Lord whose first prayer from the cross was for his crucifiers: “Father forgive them for they know not what they do.” It suddenly dawned on me that those who wrote this beautiful prayer were probably Jewish martyrs and not Christian martyrs. It is a dramatic illustration that we Christians do not have a corner on sainthood.

It is in this setting that I would like you to look once more from the Scripture lesson for today taken from the 7th Chapter of the Book of Revelations reading from verses 9 to 17.

9 After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people, and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. 

10 And they cried out in a loud voice: “Salvation belongs to our God,who sits on the throne,and to the Lamb.”

11 All the angels were standing around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures. They fell down on their faces before the throne and worshiped God, 12 saying: “Amen!Praise and glory and wisdom and thanks and honor and power and strength be to our God for ever and ever. Amen!”

13 Then one of the elders asked me, “These in white robes—who are they, and where did they come from?”

14 I answered, “Sir, you know.” And he said, “These are they who have come out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. 

15 Therefore, “they are before the throne of God and serve him day and night in his temple; and he who sits on the throne
will shelter them with his presence.

16 Never again will they hunger; never again will they thirst.
The sun will not beat down on them,’ nor any scorching heat.

For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd: “He will lead them to springs of living water. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.”

It is evident from this passage that these saints had a deep commitment to God which caused them to be willing to suffer “terrible persecution” at the hands of the Roman Empire in order that the church would survive. They were the ones who put their lives on the line and stood in the breach to secure the life of the church at a time when Rome had vowed to destroy it. There was no power in Heaven or Hell that could cause them to recant their faith. They had the courage—the God who inspired courage to withstand any power in Heaven, Earth, or Hell that would oppose the lesson of their Christ and the bringing in of the future Kingdom of God.

In our scripture in I John, we see a second characteristic of saints described. It is an incarnation of agape love that makes one Christlike in nature. The Romans marveled at how these “Christians” love one another.

The Beatitudes in Matthew Chapter verse 5 to 10 tells the qualities of Sainthood:

3 “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

4 Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

5 Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

6 Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

7 Blessed are the merciful,  for they will be shown mercy.

8 Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

9 Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

10 Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Have you ever thought of the persons who are called “saints” in your life? As I think of those I call saints, to a person, they were deeply committed to Christ, but they also had a tremendous openness and compassion to and for people around them. This Christlike spirit was clothed in humility. You felt they were interested in you. They were approachable and willing to listen to your concerns.

I always think of Uncle Jess Halsey. I often wonder if my long pastorate at Savage Memorial was unconsciously modelled after his for, he spent 35 years as pastor of Seventh Presbyterian Church in Cincinnati. I remember him telling of an incident that occurred when he was attending the funeral of his seven-year-old son who was run over by a truck. As he pulled up into the minister’s parking place at the church, he was told in no uncertain terms to move out and find another parking place. He never said a word to the officer but moved out and found another place.

Sometime later he saw that same officer stop all traffic and help a blind lady across the street. He wrote a letter of commendation to the police chief who singled out this officer for special honors the next day at roll call and read Jess Halsey’s letter before the whole police force. That afternoon the officer stopped by the church to thank the pastor. When he entered the study, he was very embarrassed to find it was the old, bald-headed gentlemen he had moved out of the minister’s spot on the day of the funeral.

I was a student minister in Covington, Indiana. Since I was not ordained and could not officiate at communion, I invited him down to Covington to not only preach and officiate at communion, but also to baptize our oldest son Dave. It just happened that it was also the Sunday after the death of Franklyn D. Roosevelt, and the whole American nation was shaken. I will never forget how in a very beautiful way he brought hope and comfort to that little congregation and sent them out feeling that the future was still ahead, and God would raise up a leader namely Harry Truman who would lead us out of war int peace.

The church gave him $25.00 for his weekend. Out of that he had to buy a two-way ticket to Danville, Illinois a distance of some 140 miles. About Thursday I went to my mailbox at the Seminary and found an envelope with my name on it in my box. In it were two ten-dollar bills and a five. There was nothing to Indicate where the money came from. I knew that it came from Uncle Jess. He knew that I was struggling to make ends meet and this was his way of making a gracious gift to us.

Saints are made of this kind of stuff. As we think of the great saints who have made a difference they have always stepped into the breach in a time of crisis. They were men and women of deep dedication and compassion. They were also prophets in their time. The great French philosopher Henri Bergson defines the prophet as the person of the future who stands out ahead of his or her time and is able to lead the masses into a new day.

They always come as a breath of fresh air because they are an open hand to loving and wise and caring, and they seem to be able to sense what is needed and to inspire those around them to-do what is necessary to bringing the future. I cannot help but refer once more to Pope John 23. They put him in because he was an old man, and he was sick. They wanted him to be a care­taker pope who would do nothing until the council of Cardinals could agree on a strong Pope to succeed him.

Little did they know that this caretaker Pope would change the face of the church. He would leave the Vatican at night and go down int the Ghettoes of Rome and move among the poor and administer to them. Up until now, the Roman Church had adjudged all Judaism as guilty of the crucifixion of Christ. He went to the Jewish leaders of the world and asked for their forgiveness and at Vatican III through his lead took this curse off the back of the Jews. He also began to establish relationships with the separated brothers and sisters in the Protestant community.

He included Protestants as a part of the Holy Catholic Church, beginning the healing process for a church that had an open sore for over 400 years. He was also a bridge over troubled waters to a world of the sixties that was torn by brokenness and protest. Because of all of this, he became a great symbol of healing and hope for all the world.

Beloved God has called all of us to be saints. I know that it is not a very popular word today. None of us would really like to be called a saint. But we are all called to be God’s people saints, people who are loving and caring, people who are out ahead of the herd becoming the world to a new day. We may not possess all these qualities of sainthood I have enumerated this morning, but if we possess some of these qualities—let us cultivate them and share our lives in love with the world.

I know the Lord will make a way for me,
I know the Lord will make a way for me.
If I live a holy life
Shun the wrong and do the right
I know the Lord will make a way for me.

The saddest thing in life is to feel we have no gifts, or the gifts we have are slowly oozing out from our grasp.

We all know our “Dear Friend” who intrudes obnoxiously into every conversation and sets himself up as somebody he really isn’t. The gifts he gives, the contributions he makes, are most often inappropriate. All the while, he buries the real person within. The real gifts he possesses barely show. He does not show his true person to anyone.

One of the most beautiful traits of personhood is to receive a gift from another, openly, graciously, and thankfully and then incorporate that gift into one’s life. When we receive a gift from another, we are beholden to that person for giving us part of their life, both what was given and received.

True human life is like a river. The inflows are the gifts we receive and incorporate into our lives as part of us. The outflows are the gifts we give to others. The gifts we give are the part of our life we share with others to their enrichment.

Paul Tournier in his book “The Meaning of Gifts” points out that some gifts are given for the giver’s sake with an ulterior motive in view. Some people give to make others love them, because they feel unloved. Some give because they feel guilty and want to make it up to another. Some give to make a person beholden to us, so we can dominate them. Think of the Political Action Committees that make candidates beholden to them. Some give because they enjoy giving. God loves a cheerful giver. Some give to express love. Some give simply to share their gifts with another. It is most important to recognize gifts as gifts.

In a meeting with our Representative Ron Wyden Monday night, someone expressed that this Earth is not ours, because we have not created it. This Earth is a gift from God and one he shares with us. It is not ours to ruin.

Paul’s lesson from Epistles talks about gifts that flow into our lives from the Holy Spirit and flow out of our life into the lives of others.  There are a variety of ecstatic gifts that come from the Holy Spirit. There are a variety of “divine acts” or energizers that God keeps working through in all kinds of ways in everyone. Each one of us is given the gift of one’s own enlightening of and by the Holy Spirit, always towards a beneficial end.

To one person is given, through the Holy Spirit, the word of wisdom. To another, the word of discernment, given by the same Spirit. To another, believing is the gift of acceptance (trust) given by the same Spirit. To another, the gift of healing is given by the same Spirit. To another, the ability is given to perform wonderful works through the power of the Spirit. To another, the gift of preaching the message of God is given. To another, the ability is given to judge all kinds of Spirits. To another, the ability to speak in different kinds of tongues is given. All of these are the workings of one and the same Holy Spirit, differing in each, as the Spirit wishes.

There are variety of ministries and ways to serve the Lord. The word for giving in Greek is diakaneo which means to wait on a table or break the bread of life. We recognize this word as the root word for Deacon. We can be servants, serving as a waiter at the table of life. We can find the gift of ecstasy, from the Greek word ekstasis, which means to stand outside of or transcend oneself. This gift is the experience of an inner vision of God or of one’s relation to or union with the divine. We can find the gift to serve as an energizer, from the Greek word energeia which means energizer or ministry.

Remember story of the wedding in Cana. Cana was a small-town some miles northwest of Galilee. The wedding was held by a family of moderate income, in the same bracket as Mary and Joseph. The family could not afford enough for the wine and the wedding. For Jews and the Rabbis, wine was essential for the wedding. “Without wine, there is no Joy!” Running out of wine would have brought embarrassment. Mary, the mother of Jesus, was at the wedding. Jesus was also invited with some of the disciples. When the wine ran out, Mary instinctively turned to Jesus. Mary said to Jesus, “They have no wine! Do something.” Jesus says, “Let me handle this in my own way. My hour of emergence as Messiah has not yet come.” (Mary may have thought different as mothers often do.) His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you to do.”

There were 6 stone water pots needed for the Jewish purifying customs. Each pot held about 20 to 30 gallons. Jesus said, “Fill the water pots with water. The servants filled the pots to the brim. Jesus said, “Draw from them now, and take what you draw to the steward in charge.” They did so. When the steward tasted the water, it had become wine. The steward did not know where the wine came from. The servants who had drawn water knew. The steward called the bride and groom. He said to everyone, “Normally you set before your guests the good wine, and when they have drunk their fill, you bring the inferior wine. But you have kept the good wine until now.” Jesus had performed the first of his signs of all his glory in Cana of Galilee, and his disciples believed in him.

Another marvelous little story is what happened before Jesus took the disciples away from their nets. He gave them a miraculous catch of fish, where there had been no fish before. They had a great fish story to tell about all the “whoppers” they caught and would bear retelling for the rest of their lives.

God’s greatest gift was the gift of his son. No longer separated by God, Jesus gave his own person, his own solitude, his own suffering given unto death. He lay down his life for his sheep. He gave the gift of eternal life. We remember the two people on the road to Emmaus. Think of the gift they received. “And I gave unto them eternal life, and they shall never perish.” There was the gift of recognition as Jesus said, “I know my own, and my own know me.”

There was the gift of intimacy. Jesus gathered the disciples and drew them into the intimate moments of his life. He shared his dreams, his fears, his disappointments, his victories, his death, and his resurrection.

God in Christ enters into the world. He is ceaselessly concerned about the smallest details of every person at every moment of life. God does not hold anything in our lives in contempt. For all is the mirror of the ultimate life we have with God. As Jesus was concerned about the egos of his fishermen disciples, he gave them a good catch before he took them away. Often, he brought them back to the same shores and talked about the beautiful symbols of nature. Consider the lilies of the field. Consider the birds of the air. He taught his children to enjoy the many gifts of earthly life.

Today, Jesus calls us to our gifts. He calls us to receive. He calls us to flow in and out of giving and in and out of the flow of the river of life. He wakes desires we will never forget. He shows us the stars as we have never seen them before. He makes us share with him, forevermore, the burden of the world’s divine regret. How wise we were to open that door, and yet how poor if we should turn him from the door.

Behold I stand at the door and knock. If anyone opens the door, I will come in and break bread. Open your eyes to the flow and discover his eternal gifts.

Ralph W Sockman once said: “The hinge of history is on the door of Bethlehem’s stable.” This statement almost blows your mind with its possibility. Today, I would like you to go with me and make the hinge squeak and open the door to explore these possibilities. First of all, I liked the article in the December A.D. magazine that stands up for the innkeeper in the Christmas story. Paul Trudinger asks: “Was the innkeeper really that stupid?” His answer is beautiful.

It is very easy to read our modern western customs into the Bible story. This place was not a modern hotel, nor even an 18th century English inn. This was a typical Eastern traveler’s resting place in the first century AD or BC. For that matter there are parts of the East where things haven’t changed that much.

There was probably just one large room where everyone stayed. They all bedded down, where dressed and washed was a luxury of whatever water was available. At a busy time, such as during a census, this room would be packed. This place was no proper place for the delivery of a baby. Surely at such a time, the mother should be allowed some sheltering from public gaze. Surely some privacy was demanded. The landlord, I suggest, was a human sensitive enough to know that this was not the kind of place or company suitable for such a moment in Mary’s life.

The scriptural text may simply conclude: “For there was not a place for them in the inn.” The landlord may have very well been compassionate. He may have sensed the awkwardness and possible embarrassment of a delivery in a crowded inn. He may have offered the only other accommodations available, the animal stalls located at the back of the inn.

Here at least Mary and Joseph could have sheltered privacy. Here Mary needed not to be stared at, nor did she need to hear the course remarks from the uncouth characters they would be among, with the crowd coming in the time of the census.

Thus, she gave birth to her first-born son and laid him in a manger thanks to the thoughtfulness and sensitivity of an innkeeper who felt it was not an appropriate place for Mary to have a baby.

Now, the more I thought about this interpretation of the innkeeper’s act, the more I agreed with it. As a boy, I spent much time around a stable. Our stable used to be about 100 feet from the house. In a cold winter, many times I would play in the stable. There’s something about the smell of hay that is romantic. Have you ever jumped from the rafters of a barn into the hay? It is so soft. The hay just seems to open its arms to receive you and just hug you all over. In fact. The image of the article set my memories leaping into my past consciousness. Have you ever sat in the hay in a manger and watched the cow eat? The cows have such big ears. When I was a boy, the cows were all my friends. I used to sit and watch the cows. I used to like to hear the crunch of the hay in their teeth. Many times, I’d reach out and pat them on the nose. They put their cold nose against my arm. In fact, I was just thinking last night, so I began to look back, there’s something even about the smell of manure in the stable that is nostalgic.

So, I come to the door of the Bethlehem stable this morning. I pull it open and hear the hinge squeak. (By the way, hinges on the stable door always squeak in the winter period as I open the door.) I feel I’m entering the stable of this history and I feel right at home. In fact, I feel like a little third grader from Portland, Maine who had his little poem published in January issue of A.D. magazine.

A Key
There was a key
And a door
I opened it up and found
A whole new world
I want to see
And I found that
I belong there.

I feel like this when I open the door of the stable of Bethlehem.

I opened it up
And found
Her whole new world
How much you see
That world
And I found that

I belong there just because I like the feel of hay and the Manger. I sat there as a boy. I felt it. The softness and warmth of the hay in the winter. The hay in my mouth and the taste of it. I like the cows too. They were my friends. It must have been fun to watch Mary Joseph as they rejoiced over their first son.

I can still remember the November day when our first son was born. It was such a wonderous thrill. The long days were over for the mother, and now you are holding the baby in your arms. I felt some of the thrill again last night when I talked to my son David on the phone. I had not heard his voice for four months. He was faraway and his voice was wonderful. Then, there was this baby. As Howard Thurman put it, the symbol of Christmas. What is it? It is the cry of life from the newborn babe born for its mother and claiming its right to live.

Here’s a little baby crying for its right to his future. The world he is born in has the potential to give him his future. And the future of the little baby is a wonderful thing. It is so unpredictable. It is so full of possibilities and potential. Is the future unclaimed. There’s a possibility of life yet to come and to be lived meaningfully. There are possibilities of loving, hoping, believing, and risking. And there are possibilities of changing things. These are all built into the life of a baby.

And this little baby was particular wonder. His parents had received a message from an Angel about this baby. Truly, he was to hold the hinge of the door of history in his hand. He was to be Emmanuel. God with us. He was to be Jesus, which means “God saves his people.” Our Lord. Commanding the respect from all whom he called. He is Christ. Messiah. Appointed for destiny. Appointed by God to lead his people through the day of history. He is also a baby, with soft skin, a dimple, a smile, a little butterball. The baby is a thing that brings tears into Mary’s eyes when she touches him. Joseph’s face lights up when he sees that tear. This child is theirs and it is made of something beautiful. Then there are the other ones, who see the babe in that stable. There is a strange blending of cows, and people, and straw. There are the smells and sights of the world around, all blending together in the dim glow of a candle. This speaks to us of nature and ecology and beauty.

A beautiful illustration was written by a lady correspondent who writes of recently having to adapt to living alone she writes:

One of the toughest things to face is not having someone with whom to talk over things at the point of things happening. The disappointments and happy discoveries of each day. I was thinking of this the other afternoon as I drove home across a low bridge that spans the Bay. There was a spectacular show of clouds, and I realized that my enjoyment of it was diminished, because I couldn’t say to anybody “Isn’t it great?” Then came the thought: “God is present, and I could share it with him.” That helped me some but not much. Then, it really hit me it’s the other way around. God is sharing this beauty with me. He wants someone, me you, or anybody to see that he’s created this world with water, earth, and light with splendid glories that he paints every day. “Look,” he says. “It’s for you. Isn’t great?” So, it was greater than it ever had been before, and I knew the moment had been truly shared.

That’s how I feel about the stable in Bethlehem with the baby in the straw and the animals and the wise men and the shepherds. God is sharing this with us. This marvelous coming together of people and animals in earth and sky and God and man. The whole creation is represented there celebrating the birth of this child, for me or anybody to see what he’s created with water, earth and light, and it’s all there in the stable.

I like to think of the people who came to this stable. There were rich people and poor people together. The magi brought their rich gifts. I wonder what the shepherds brought. I’m sure the gospel writer Matthew was so excited about the gold, frankincense, and myrrh that he forgot what the shepherds brought. I wonder if a little shepherd boy brought him a fuzzy, soft little lamb. So, they came together. The Jews and gentiles in the stable. The wise men were gentiles, and the shepherds were Jews. So were Mary and Joseph. I like to think that the baby was just an everyman created to show us all what it means to be human. In his stable, the rich and poor, wise and simple, adult and child and baby all come together with one thing in mind, to see the newborn baby and bring him a gift. And that is really why we’re here together today. We are all different. From different homes, different backgrounds, different families, and different origins, but we are all here one with one purpose to talk about a baby in a Manger and bring him a gift.

Finally, there was a star shining on this stable, shining a mystery. I saw a beautiful illustration of that the other night, when I went to see the Singing Christmas tree at the Civic Auditorium. It was soloist by the name of Paul Bergen, who made me wonder about the mystery. I had never before heard the song of the Jesus story sung with such a beautiful bass voice. He talked about the mystery when he said: “Hold your hand in front of you and wonder at your fingers. That is a great miracle. It’s a great miracle to be able to quickly move your fingers.” I looked at the bearded man who was telling us to wiggle our fingers and watched him wiggle his fingers. Then, I saw his crutches and his dangling legs, which were paraplegic with no movement from his hips down. He knew that it was indeed a miracle to be able to wiggle one’s fingers and to walk.

That is what the star says to me. The mystery stands over the stable pointing up where the child was born. It says this is a miracle. You look at the world around him. Herod had heard about the Christ child who would lead in love. He threatened to have all the little babies put to death. His fear was that this little baby in the Manger would be a threat to his throne. I think the people who crucified him. They were afraid of him because he wanted to change things from what they were. He caused a man with a withered hand to stretch it out be healed, but it was the Sabbath. He said to the prostitute on the temple steps and said: “Neither do I condemn you, go and sin no more.” Yes, but the law says she should be stoned to death. He said to the thief beside him on the cross: “Today you shall be with me in paradise.” Yes, but the law says: “The wicker shall be cast into hell.”

This is the baby that was born in the stable. The star stood still over the stable and said: “This is the baby who have been looking for.” You have been for this child for a long time. His name is Jesus meaning “God saves his people.” He is Emmanuel, meaning “God is with us.” This is the mystery and the miracle. You go to the stable. The hinge of history is on the door. You pull the door open, and the hinge squeaks. You go into this stable, and you look at the baby. You feel you are standing in front of God in human flesh. You cry out “Emmanuel!” Then you look again, and you see a new mystery. You see a little baby, and you say: “I was like that once.” You see how he will grow into a beautiful man. You say, “I wish I was like him. I can be like him. Behold the man!”

This whole bundle of life is all there in that stable.

Christmas can never live in past tense. Advent means “the coming” and is in the future tense, which represents the set of mind of the Christian. Advent is not a return to the manger and to stay there. The manger is the place where we find our bearings to begin our pilgrimage. We are on a continual Exodus out of bondage to the Promised Land, where bondage equals broken dreams. The Promised Land is the hope of new dreams fulfilled. Jesus lived in the future tense. 

The Kingdom was always coming. At Bethlehem, the world was born again. Born with new dreams and new hopes, with real possibilities for the future. These possibilities were not fulfilled in Jesus’s time but the coming of Christ was still the future.

What does Christmas in the future tense mean today? It means Christ is still coming. We are still in Advent. God is still brooding over our world with the creative possibilities and the future in mind. The 21st chapter of Revelations is still ahead. The new window and the new Holy Spirit are at work. Each of us must live in the future tense. Like the Jewish house, our house is a house of promise. No one is too old to have hope. Think of Zechariah and Elizabeth and Simeon and Anna. One is the forerunner of the forerunner. The other pronounces the benediction on the coming of the affirmer.

There are times when the best laid plans of mice and humans go awry. There are also times when the best laid plans of preachers go awry. That time comes when one is ready to prepare the sermon only to find that he is grasp by another sermon. He is grasp so firmly by the new ideas, that the sermon topic that was announced must be laid aside even though that topic appears in print in the Sunday morning bulletin. That is the dilemma I find myself in this morning.

I think there are two things that caused me to change my sermon this morning. The first is the haunting part of her own Christmas story this year, a part that cannot be ignored or forgotten. It is the story told to us dramatically through the hollow eyes of little, starving children as they stare at us from our television screens. Indelibly we are imprinted with the unfolding tragedy of hungry people throughout our world today.

The second thing that caused me to change my sermon words a book brought to me by a friend. The book was by Barbara Tuchman called the March of Folly from Troy to Vietnam. This book analyzes a certain kind of perversity that seems to pervade history and causes nations to go awry. It is the kind of self-destruction that Tuchman calls wooden-headedness. It is a perversity that causes a nation or leader go down the wrong road, a road that leads to ultimate destruction. 

I find this a most apt illustration of the trait of wooden-headedness in the Christmas story we know so well. It is the story of Herod who is really the villain of the Christmas story. I’m somewhat amazed and chagrinned that to the best of my recollection I have never preached the Herod story. The Herod story as told by the gospel writer Matthew is part of the story of the coming of the Magi. The Magi were astrologers from Persia, who saw the long looked for star of the great king in the sky. They followed it all the way to Jerusalem. They went to the palace of King Herod to inquire as to where the royal child was to be born. Herod was threatened by the news that a king baby was born within his realm. The Magi tuned in on this right away.

Herod called on his own magi and inquired of them if they had ever heard that the Messiah was to be born, and if so where. They were familiar with the prophecies, and they told him that the child was to be born in Bethlehem. Then, Herod summoned the Magi from Persia back into the throne room and told them to go to Bethlehem and find the baby. Trying to disguise his negative feelings, he told them that when they did find the child, they should bring him word and he would pay his homage to the child. He did not fool the Magi one bit. They knew what his designs were and did not return. The did not give in to Herod’s wooden-headedness.

This reminds us of the Trojan horse of Agamemnon and Helen of Sparta. It reminds us of the Pope’s provocation of the Protestants and their secession from the church. It reminds us of the British loss of America and America’s betrayal of herself in Vietnam. It reminds us of the nuclear arms race. It reminds us of our betrayal of the poor as ultimate wooden-headedness.

We have fallen into the trap that Dwight Eisenhauer warned that our world would be seized by the military industrial complex. Our arms sales in our world exceed all other sales. The profile of poverty in the world is revolution and inflation. Productive land is taken for exports to get money to pay for more arms. The farmland is wearing out from overuse. The remaining land and distribution of wealth is held by a few. What can we do about this? There are awful signs for us in our increased awareness of hunger in the world. There’s beginning to be more hope of the mobilization of a middle class in the world to explore the possibilities of a world beyond war and end our wooden-headedness.

I shall never forget the first time I stood at the point where the Metolius River is born. Suddenly, before my very eyes, a full-grown river burst out of the mountainside. I could hardly believe my eyes. I climbed down the steep bank to the very source of the river. I knelt down and drank of the water. It was fresh and clean and cold—the most refreshing drink I have ever had. The river was born totally alive.

Last March I stood at Caesarea Philippi where to ay amazement I saw the same kind of miraculous birth of a river. There it was the Banias river—one of the two sources of the of the Jordan River that bursts into full flow out of the mountainside. There too the river is clear and cold and refreshing. This time I did not drink of it, for there were too many people cooling their warm and dusty feet in its refreshing flow. I too cooled ay feet and enjoyed its therapeutic renewal.

In my travels in Israel, I have become so aware of the importance of geography. At Caesarea Philippi, I was overwhelmed by the myriads of insights that burst in around me. I was standing at the place where Peter made his great confession: “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.” At this place I witnessed the waters of the Jordan River bursting out of the mountainside, and the image of the great confession of Peter bursting out of the great river of faith. The place I was standing was where for the first time Peter and his co-disciples began to look at Jesus through eyes of faith and not only through their physical eyes.

For the first time, they began to look at him with insight and faith. They began to affirm who he really was and what he really meant to then. It Is no coincident that the Gospel writer Mark begins this section with a miracle story, where Jesus restores sight to a blind man. At the end of this section following the story of the Transfiguration, which will be the center of our focus this morning, he ends with another miracle story of the restoration of sight. This time he is on the road to Jericho, when Blind Bartimaeus calls out: “Jesus of Nazareth, have mercy on me.”  Why does Mark put these stories at the beginning and the end of this section? The answer is quite obvious. This section begins with the story of Peter’s confession at Caesarea Philippi. It ends with the story of the Transfiguration. These for Mark are the two great experiences where the disciples have their spiritual blindness healed and they begin to see Jesus through eyes of faith.

There is another fascinating insight you gain here from knowing the geography and seeing what is at this place. Immediately above the point where the Banias river springs out of the mountainside, there is an ancient and important alter to the God Pan who is the God of the Shepherds—the ancient God of pastoral peace. It is at this very point that

Peter affirms Jesus as Messiah and Son of God. He affirms him in his shepherd’s role—as the good shepherd who is willing to give his life for his sheep. Once again, Mark uses the place to affirm who Jesus really was—the Messiah who come as Second Isaiah saw the messiah—as the shepherd—the suffering servant who gives his life for his own. He brings in the future not by the sword but through vicarious and redemptive suffering.

Now we move to the Mount of transfiguration. I must now tell you of one of the things I settled in my mind on this last trip to Israel. There are actually two sites reputed to be the Mount of Transfiguration. The one is Mount Tabor, south and west of Tiberius. Last March we had the privilege of spending some time on the top of Mount Tabor. I felt quite sure at the time that this was really the site of the Transfiguration. This time as we stopped once more at Caesarea Philippi and then travelled through the Golan Heights to Mount Hermon. Our very knowledgeable guide pointed out that both the proximity of and the height of Mount Hermon made it much more logically to conclude that this was the sight of the transfiguration of Jesus. Mount Tabor is only a thousand feet high. Mount Hermon is 9200 feet high and has snow on it the year round.

Just imagine Jesus and his three beloved disciples climbing up the mountain. Suddenly they reach the top and they are filled with the exhilaration that only one can have as they stand at the peak. I had this experience a few years ago when I climbed the South Sister in central Oregon. The air Is thin— the sun Is ever so bright, and you suddenly are overawed by the panoramic view around you. You suddenly are aware that you are on top of the world and only those who are with you can really appreciate the experience.

I am sure the three disciples had a new appreciation of who Jesus was just by climbing this high mountain with him. Now, they were alone at the top of the world. I am sure as he stood off from them in the snow with the sun shining in all its brightness behind him, he must have looked almost translucent. It was then that God decided to add the extra touches by drawing back the veil and allowing the blinders to fall from their eyes so that the three disciples could see Jesus in his glory.

As we move to the story as it is recorded by the Gospel writers, let is take note of the interesting variations that appear in the stories told by Matthew, Mark and Luke. First of all, Matthew and Mark begin the story with the words “After six days.” Luke begins the story with the words “After eight days.” This was dating the experience after the moment of Peter’s confession at Caesarea Philippi. We must remember that these disciples were drawing from either their memory, or the story as they heard it from others. The fact that they differed as to how many days elapsed perhaps validates the story, because it shows each was telling it as he remembered or heard it.

All three Gospel writers have them go together up to a high mountain. Only Luke tells the reason for their going to the high mountain. He says they went up on the mountain to pray. Each one of them says that he was transfigured before them. Matthew says that his face shone like the sun. Luke writes that the appearance of his countenance was altered, and his raiment became dazzling white. Luke writes that his garments became glistening Intensely white as no fuller on earth could bleach. Each remembers a different part of the transformation that took place. Each story had noted different aspects of the transfiguration

All three have Jesus suddenly joined by Moses and Elijah. Now you must remember who these people were. Moses was the great lawgiver, the father of Israel, and the one who was called by God to lead the children of Israel out of the bondage of Egypt into the freedom of the promised land. Elijah was the first of the Prophets. He was the beginning of a long line of prophets who called the people back to God. They had come here to affirm the Christ who was revealed to his disciples at this time.

At this point Luke alone makes an interesting addition to the story. First of all, Luke alone tells what Jesus talked over with Moses and Elijah. He spoke to them of his coming departure to go to Jerusalem and do what he had to do there, speaking of course of his impending crucifixion. The implication is that they affirmed him in this. Luke also tells how while Jesus was talking with Moses and Elijah, the three disciples had problems keeping awake. This was almost like the experience in the Garden of Gethsemane, when the same three had problems keeping awake when Jesus was praying under the olive tree.

Peter suggests that they could build three booths there and stay on the mountain forever. He wanted to arrest the story at that point and make the transfiguration experience the ultimate religious experience. Sometimes we too want to stay at the high points in the religious experience and arrest history at the point of the moment of ecstasy. He did not want to have anything to do with Jerusalem and crucifixions and all of that story. He did not realize that at this moment Jesus was being affirmed before their very eyes so that at the moment of his crucifixion their faith may be sustained, and they would realize that this was not the last word in history. He did not realize that Jesus would have to pass through suffering and death before he could be Son of God for all of us.

Finally, a cloud overshadows them. From the Old Testament we know that God normally appears to his prophets in a cloud. It was the cloud that led the children of Israel through the wilderness. When Moses went up on Mount Sinai, God spoke to him out of a cloud. Now the holy cloud of God appears again, and God speaks out of the cloud to the disciples with words of affirmation of Jesus. Each of the Gospel writers report the words of God differently. Matthew has God say: “This is my beloved son with whom I am well pleased. Listen to him.” Mark deletes the words “with whom I am well pleased form his narration.” Luke has God say: “This is my Son, my Chosen.” One must note that God directs his message to the disciples, rather than to Jesus. This experience at this point is for their affirmation.

Mark has the story of the transfiguration at the very center of his gospel. He seems to indicate that the transfiguration was an annunciation of the central them of the Gospel—the theme being that Jesus as true Messiah had come to be obedient unto death and that by suffering and dying. He would be vindicated by resurrection. This was to be an experience of illumination for the three in his inner circle. The rest of the gospel seems to indicate that the transfiguration message did not get through to them. The disciples seemed bound in incorrigible blindness.

Not so the two blind men who frame this story. Both of these receive their total sight—spiritual and physical vision. It took the two charges from the healing hands of Jesus to cure the first blind man. But when Jesus got through with him, Mark reports that his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly. When Bartimaeus was healed he too received spiritual as well as physical vision and Mark reports: “He immediately received his sight and followed him on the way.”

There is a marvelous line at the end of the Transfiguration. Each of the Gospel writers puts it a little different way. I like the way Matthew tells it: “And when they lifted up their eyes, they saw no one but Jesus only.” I would like to say that this is the sum of all Christian theology. When all is said and done, we who are Christians must focus our eyes on Jesus. He Is central to our faith. He is God’s word to us made flesh.

He calls us today to walk in his pathway. His road to Jerusalem was one he walked in obedience to his Heavenly father. He accepted the role of the suffering servant. He carried his cross—the world’s cross up the via dolorosa to the mountain called Calvary. There he gave his life for the life of the world.

Today in our jumbled world, the Christ affirmed by God on the mount of transfiguration is still trying to lead us down the road to the future. He is still the word made flesh for us. He is asking us to follow him into his future kingdom.

In our day when we seem hell-bent on self-destruction in the arms race in which we are engaged—when we are so blinded that we call the greatest killer we have ever invented—the MX Missile the peacekeeper—we need to hear the master say again—love your enemies —do good to those that despitefully use you. If your enemy hungers feed him or her.

Yesterday, Mark Hatfield told the 400 men who attended the breakfast that the answer to the problem of Central America is that we begin to use our material wealth and power to bridge the gulf between the very rich and the very poor and begin to create a middle class in central America once again. In this way, we will empower the weak to be strong and in so doing they will throw off the yoke of the oppressor.

Today we are a privileged people. Never In all history have we had the resources at our disposal to cure the worlds Ills. We can solve hunger in our time if we will but follow the Christ. We have possibilities in our world for a good life for all. Friday morning, I met Jack Nash on the fishing stream. He had just had a new hip joint put in a few months back. It transformed him from a severely handicapped person to a whole person. He was saying itis a wonderful day to be alive.

But the new day will never come if we do not have our incorrigible blindness cured, so we can see the Christ transfigured before us—that we may see him as the word of God made flesh for our time and our generation. Then and only then will we have the vision to follow him into the new day.

The world was looking for a king
To slay their foes and lift them high
Thou earnest a little baby thing
That made a woman cry.   
George MacDonald

Every baby-thing is brought into the world by the birth pangs and tears of a mother. With the coming of each new baby, the future of humanity is born. The pain and suffering borne by a little child speaks more eloquently than any other voice of how we have violated the future of humankind.

This week I listened as two congressman being interviewed after returning from the refugee camps in Ethiopia. As they were leaving the camps, the starving children sang to them through pinched and hungry little faces that even starvation could not prevent from smiling. These strong men told how they just broke down and wept, as they looked into the faces of these children smiling through their pain. Then and there, they decided the top priority of this Nation under God must be to respond to the painful cry for bread being lifted from the hungry children of the world.

This week, once more, I was called to minister to a family whose wife, mother, daughter, and sister had been taken in the most tragic circumstances. It is so difficult to find words of comfort and help when such a stark tragedy strikes. But there was one who brought comfort and smiles without saying a word. It was the little child of the family that flitted in and out among the crying ones—with her winsome smile, her complete obliviousness to what had happened. With a beautiful simplicity about her she was saying with a clarity that could not be mistaken: “Its O.K. to cry but look at me through your tears. All is not lost. Look, I am here, and I am the one who brings in the future.” I had shared deep moments with the ones so tra­gically taken. I too was all torn up inside. As I was riding home, I remembered the little child who had moved in and out among us that night. I felt strangely warmed. It was almost as if the Christ child had been with us.

Suddenly my mind flitted to words from the Prophet Isaiah spoken in a very dark time. Israel had lost her last great and good king. The Assyrian conquerors were knocking at the door, and there was every indication that these were the last days in the history of Israel. All at once the Prophet Isaiah hears a word from God that these were not really the last days. Though they were days of deep travail for Mother Israel, she was giving birth to the future. Her pain was her birth pangs. The people who were really troubled and depressed said to Isaiah, if this is the word of God, give us a sign that it is so. And the Prophet Isaiah answered:

Therefore, the Lord himself shall give you a sign.
Behold a young woman shall conceive and bear a son,
and shall call his name Immanuel (Meaning God with Us).

What did the prophet mean by this? Could he have meant this? “As long as God allows little children to be born into the world, God must still have a future for us.” And then, every once in a while, things seem to be just right, and a special child is born who seem especially invested with power to bring into being the dreams of the world’s best prophets.

Isaac was such a child. God called Abraham to leave the Land of Mesopotamia and go to a land that God would show him. God promised Abraham he would be the Father of a great nation, and in his seed all the nations of the earth would be blessed. (There was a ringer in that promise.)

Abraham and Sarai did not have a son. They were past the normal age to have a child. When Abraham broke the news to Sarai that three heavenly messengers came to his tent to tell him that Sarai would conceive in her old age and bear a son, she laughed and thought it was a joke. When Isaac was born, she laughed again, but it was a laughter filled with joy because God had given her a son. With the birth of that son the future was born. To memorialize her laughter for joy she called the name of her son Isaac which means laughter.

Moses was such a child. When the children of Israel were enslaved by a threatened pharaoh in Egypt’s land, the pharaoh decided he would wipe out the future of this threatening minority within his realm, by killing all the male children and their families. By killing their baby boys he knew he would destroy the future of this people. But there were mothers who were strong, and they would not allow their boys to be killed. One mother made a little seaworthy cradle and put her child in it. She hid him in the bulrushes in the Nile River. By an act God the pharaoh’s daughter came down to the Nile to bathe, at the very spot where the baby was hid. She heard the the cry of the child and took him home with her. By crafty design, she even hired the child’s mother as a nursemaid. When the appropriate time came, Moses was the one who called on God to lead the exodus of the people of God from slavery of Egypt into the promised land. Once again the future was brought in by a very special baby.

Samuel was such a child. In the lesson about Samuel in the Old Testament, we are told about the birth of Samuel. Once more, a child was born to a childless one. This child brought in a new future. When Samuel was born, there was the high priest of Israel who with his sons had gone sour. The future of the spiritual leadership of Israel had gone sour. Hannah had the stigma of being childless. In her day, a childless woman was thought to have let her husband down, by not producing a child to carry the lineage. She also let down the nation by not producing a citizen to carry on the future of the nation. It was a time when a little was known of life after death. To carry on in the future of the nation, a person was counted on through the progeny of the children. Children were the future.

When Samuel was born, he gave meaning to Hannah as a woman in Israel. He gave meaning to Hannah’s husband Elkanah and to Israel. Samuel was also a special child who brought in a new day for the priesthood. Hannah was so thankful to God that she gave her son to be a temple boy and to train for the priesthood. A priest and prophet, Samuel brought in a new day for Israel. He brought in a priesthood that truly stood between God and the people as a prophet, pastor and spokesman for God.

This brings us to a beautiful segment of the Christmas story that is the focus of our reading today. The young woman Mary, while betrothed to Joseph, was visited by a heavenly messenger who told her she would be the mother of a very special child, who would be implanted into her womb by God himself. With her pregnancy over, she was in a stable in a strange town called Bethlehem, where her baby had been born. On the night of his birth, angels proclaimed the good news by spoken word and in song to the shepherds on the Judean hills. They came exultantly to the stable to see this baby who had been announced by angels. They went away exultantly to tell the whole town about it.       Mary was alone with her baby. As she looked into his big brown eyes, she thought of all of the events of the past year and of all the miracle things that had happened to bring this baby into being. Then the Gospel writer Luke says: “And Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart.”

I like the way the today’s English Version translates these words: “Mary remembered all these things and thought deeply about them.”

Have wondered what thoughts went through her mind as she remembered all the things that had happened? Do you suppose she said this? “I can hardly believe what has happened. Today I hold the long-looked for Messiah who will save Israel and bring a new future.” The unbelievable had happened. She was the one given the privilege of bringing the Messiah into the world. And in her arms, she held the future of the world.

Yesterday my December Psychology Today magazine came. I was taken aback when I saw this picture of a very beautiful baby on the cover and over its head it had this caption: “Whose baby am I?”

Under the caption is this teasing sentence: “High-tech conception: multiple parents, multiple problems.” The title of the lead article on this subject is: “Yours, Mine and Theirs.” Under the title is this captions “With pioneering techniques.”

In our time, science has brought about the conception of new babies—and delivered new emotional dilemmas for all involved. With invitro fertilization, artificial Insemination, embryo transfers, and surrogate motherhood, science opened a whole new bag of ethical, psychological, and legal questions that has caused turmoil in the world of law, ethics, and religion. It has caused upheaval in the lives of mothers and fathers of children born in these new ways. Strangely, we have also produced many virgin births, with the only difference being that God implanted the fertile seed in Mary and the gynecologist is now doing the implanting of a fertile egg or an embryo.

This new science reminds us that though these babies have something special about them, there is a real sense in which every child born into the world, by any means, is a child that brings in a new future. Because of Jesus the Christ Child, who blazed the new way, every child born into the world today is a potential Christ-child that has a potential to bring the good news of God by word and deed. This speaks to us as we present our children for baptism when the hand of empowerment and the water of new life is placed upon their head. We say to all, today we are entrusted with a new life—a potential Christ Child that brings in the future. These children are not only God’s special gifts to the parents but to all of us within the church

It also says something else. Each one of us has a resident within us with the possibility of bringing in a new future for our world. Perhaps until now, we have not fulfilled our potential in this regard. But there is a gift—the calling that is still within us. More than that, there is a possibility for renewal and rebirth within all of us. Our lives can be renewed, and we can still fulfil our potential.

Perhaps God is saying to us what he said to Nicodemus, so long ago: “Nicodemus you have the possibility of being born anew—being born again.” It will be just like entering, once again, your mother’s womb and being born all over again as a new person. Regardless of how old you are, you still have the potential of being born of God, of being born from above. That, I believe, is what the Christmas story is all about.

Today we are sitting around a table that has special symbols on it. They are symbols of the incarnation—of the enfleshment of God in the world. As we eat the bread and drink the blood of the grape, we are symbolizing the great reality that the eternal Christ has entered our life. Our heart is in reality the manger—and the Christ is being born in us today. As we partake, let us be quiet and feel his presence within us. May we not turn him away from our door as the innkeeper did so long ago. But may we pray simply:

0 come to my heart Lord Jesus.
There is room in my heart for you.

I am the stable boy at the Bethlehem Inn in Jerusalem. It was my job to take care of the camels and donkeys of the guests in the Inn. I would take the camels to the stable and securely tie them in a stall and see that they had hay to eat and fresh straw on which they could bed down for the night. This was a very busy night in the Inn. It was the time when the emperor had decreed that everyone must return to the city where they were born and register for the new taxes that were to be collected. Many people were returning to Bethlehem to register. The Inn was about full. In fact, I had only one stall left in the stable. I had already filled the manger with hay and spread out the straw in the stall.

I went back to the Inn to bring back another camel or donkey. A young couple had just come to the Inn to find lodging. I heard the man say that his wife was about to have a baby. They had travelled a long way that day and needed lodging. I saw a sad look come over the Innkeepers face. He told them he had just rented the last room in the Inn. He could not give them a room. The man who said his name was Joseph pleaded with the Innkeeper, and finally the Innkeeper said: “The only thing I can do is put you up in the stable.” At least you will be out of the cold. I will have the stable boy put down some extra straw so that you can make a comfortable place to sleep. I can also give you some extra blankets to keep warm. The young couple decided that this was probably the best they could do, so they accepted the innkeepers offer. It was my job to take them to the stable and make them comfortable.

I soon discovered that this was a very tired family. They had come a long way that day. In fact, the donkey was so tired that he did not want to move another step. The young woman who sat on the donkey was not only very tired, but she seemed to be in deep pain. Her husband had told the innkeeper that she was about to give birth to a baby. The husband was also so tired I wondered if he could make it to the stable. I took some sweet sugar cane that I carried for this very purpose. I placed a piece of it in the donkey’s mouth. I held the second piece just beyond his nose and I managed to bribe him into walking to the stable.

I dragged in several extra bundles of straw. Soon, one of the maids came from the Inn with a sheep skin and some warm woolen blankets. We soon had a nice comfortable bed fixed for them. Fortunately, it was not a very cold night and with all the animals, the stable was quite warm. I even shoved several bundles of straw into the open doorway of the stable shutting off some of the draft. Before I left, the husband had taken a Bedouin blanket and placed it over the hay in the manger preparing a place to lay the baby when it came.

I was now through with my work. The stable was full. The animals were all fed. It looks as though our human guests could take care of themselves. I went over to the large pile of straw on the east end of the stable and I prepared to sleep in its soft, gentle reaches. I was used to sleeping on a few bundles of straw, as I have done so ever since I was stable boy. As I tried to sleep, I noticed how quiet it was. The animals were all bedded down for the night. The family seemed to be preparing for bed, and they moved ever so quietly. I fell asleep rather quickly, but I did not fall into a deep sleep. I slept somewhat fitfully. At one time I thought I saw a big flash of light. I was not sure whether I had dreamt it or if it really happened. A little later I thought I heard voices singing, but then again, I was not sure if I really did or if I was just dreaming.

I woke up very early as I usually did. It was time to make the rounds and feed the animals. They were already making their noises. There seemed to be a restless spirit about the stable. I thought I would check on the family first. Lo and behold, while I was sleeping the wife had given birth to a little baby who was all tucked in the Bedouin blanket in the hay manger.

It was a large manger, made to hold food for two animals. The mother was half sitting and half lying in the hay in the manger her body almost completely surrounding the baby. They seemed so excited and happy. They were also so thankful for the little things I had done for the night before. They asked me if I did not want to see the baby. Before that I had not come near because I was not sure what to do.

I had not seen a newborn baby for a long time. I was the youngest in our family, so I did not see any of my brothers and sisters when they were born. I was surprised at how small newborn babies really are. He had dark hair and a brownish complexion.

While I was looking at him, he suddenly opened his eyes. I saw the most beautiful brown eyes and they seemed to look straight at me. I also noticed the beautiful hands of the mother. Her fingers were long and thin. They seemed to move and touch him with such gentleness. I thought: “Those hands must have done many loving deeds.” Then I noticed that the baby had the same long fingers, and his hands too spoke of gentleness. I thought: “Surely this one, born in my stable, will grow up to do many loving deeds.”

While I was standing there a group of shepherds came bursting through the door. They were all excited. They said they were minding their flocks in shepherds’ field, when suddenly the Angel of the Lord appeared to them in the sky and told them that the Messiah the Son of God was born in Bethlehem town, and they would find the baby in the stable behind the inn. When the angel stopped speaking a whole choir of angels appeared behind then and they sang the most beautiful song: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace, goodwill towards men.”

When shepherds sit around the fire at night, many of them carve little treasures out of the acacia wood that is abundant in the desert area. Each shepherd seemed to carry a bag of treasures that he has made with his own hands. As each shepherd knelt before the baby, each one took a special treasure from his bag and laid it at the child’s feet.

Not long after they left, some Magi from the East came to the stable. They told how they had been travelling for many days, following the star that the astronomers said was the natal star of the Messiah. They too brought rich and beautiful gifts to lay at the baby’s feet.

One brought a gift of gold. The other two brought rich spices—frankincense and myrrh. As each one of them came to the baby they knelt and pledged their allegiance to him as the new King of the Jews.

Just then I thought that I too must also give him a gift. I remembered the beautiful star of David that my mother had given me when I left home, to remind me I must always be true to the God of our people who delivered us from bondage in Egypt so we could be his people in the world. This was my most treasured possession, but this was my King, and I must give him my richest gift.