The children in a small Sunday School were putting on the
annual pageant. A small girl was chosen to be all the Magi.
They practiced and practiced until everyone had the story ready
to perform for the whole congregation. When it came time for the
Magis' entrance - she majestically swept up the aisle - draped
in all the jewels from many garage sales and robes of bits and
pieces of all the fine fabrics collected from the remainders box
at the local discount store. Pausing and bowing before the
infant's crib she announced, "Greetings, baby, I bring you gifts.
Gold, Circumstance, and Mud."(1)
Now, ain't that the truth! That is exactly what life brings
us. Some "gold" - not just money, but the precious moments we
occasionally encounter; circumstance - lots of that, and most
unpredictable; and mud - more of that than we want, the bad
patches where we and our world sometimes get stuck.
"Gold, circumstance, and mud." Tonight, all in the same
place. Hmm. Think about that for a moment.
The mud is surely all around us. The news from Iraq today
is that three more of our young troops died this morning. They
were killed by a roadside bomb as they traveled in a convoy near
Samarra, a town north of Baghdad. How many is that now? And
this year the soldiers don't even get Bob Hope for at least a
little taste of Christmas back home.
Think any of them are humming "White Christmas" tonight? It
is the most popular song ever written - recorded more, sung more,
played more, listened to more, than any music ever. Irving
Berlin wrote it in 1941 and knew immediately that he had created
something special. In fact, when he met with his colleagues the
morning after he wrote "White Christmas," he reportedly said,
"Fellas, I just wrote the best song in the history of the
world."(2) It was very popular during World War II when so many
young Americans were separated from their families and living and
fighting in difficult, dangerous circumstances far from home, and
it is no doubt equally popular in Iraq tonight. But it is just a
dream for them this year. This year it's Mud.
Here in the US we get the wonderful news that Mad Cow
disease has reached America, and already a number of countries
have snapped into action and prohibited any imports of US beef.
Agriculture officials tell us not to worry, but what would we
expect them to say? Stop eating at McDonald's? We hope the
Christmas turkey or goose is safe. More Mud.
Speaking of safe, are we? We in the United States are at
Alert Stage Orange tonight. No one outside of Washington seems
to know what that means exactly - they keep telling us to go
about our business as if nothing were wrong, but... If nothing
else, the Orange Alert does remind us that this globe is a
dangerous place. Other parts of the world know this better than
we, of course. The news from Bethlehem today is that about 1,000
people gathered in Manger Square listening to carols playing
through loudspeakers and watching the annual Christmas Eve
procession into the church that holds the traditional birthplace
of Jesus. Hundreds of thousands of tourists used to throng
Bethlehem in the weeks before Christmas, and the large square by
the Church of the Nativity would fill with people on Christmas
Eve. But during the past three years of violence, most potential
pilgrims, like most potential tourists, have stayed away.(3) Mud,
mud, and more mud.
And we get circumstance. There is a lot to our lives that
never makes the national news, but is no less real, and in many
ways is incredibly more important, at least to us. This is the
first Christmas since Dad died, the first since the divorce, the
year that the cancer came back, the year the plant closed down
and everything got put on hold because, even though they say the
economy is turning around, there are still no jobs out there.
Circumstance.
Listen to Barbara Brown Taylor:
I know...this is a hard time of the year. There is
that empty chair to deal with, that stocking that stays
folded in the box. All the rituals that were designed
for two or more are now up to you alone, and it is like
the sound of one hand clapping. Christmas is the
season you wait to see if the hurt has let up any since
this time last year -- and you want it to, so you can
get on with your life -- and you don't want it to,
because that might mean you have stopped caring.
Meanwhile, the memories rise up to meet you swamping
you with a melancholy so sweet you can almost taste it
in the back of your throat.
For good or ill, every Christmas Eve functions like a
kind of time machine for us, taking us back to every
other Christmas Eve we have spent on this earth. For
some, it is a reminder of the way life used to be, back
when we were on the front row of the holiday show and
not the stage managers of it...For others, this night
is a reminder of the way life should have been, but
never was -- those who have looked all their lives
through other people's windows at such scenes of
domestic bliss, but always as a peeping tom and never
as an insider.(4)
Hmm. Mud. Circumstance. But there is the GOLD too. The
children that have returned home for the holiday. The Christmas
card from a friend not heard from for a decade. The acceptance
letter from the first-choice college that came in the midst of
the cards. The new puppy out in the garage who will enchant the
children tomorrow morning while making a huge mess, but so what!
The Christmas Carol that triggers a memory from long, long ago.
The hug you got tonight from the one whose friendship you had
feared was lost forever because of some stupid, petty words that
had slipped out in a moment of frustration. Yes, along with the
circumstance and mud, there is gold, all jumbled up together.
In a way, we have known that for years. As we hear the
Christmas story and listen to the familiar drama unfold, as we
travel in our mind back to Bethlehem, we sing it over and over:
"the hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight."
On this one night of nights, everything bad and everything good
come together. Hopes. Fears. The gold, the circumstance, the
mud.
We can choose which of those will influence us most. For
me, I choose the gold. I hear the angels gathered above saying
"Do not be afraid. I bring you good news..." while we bring the
gold, circumstance and mud or "the hopes and fears" of this past
year...really, all the hopes & fears of our lives. They are not
extra baggage. They are who we are and what we are. What we do
with them is up to us.
Would you like some help with them? Ultimately, that is why
we are here tonight, isn't it? We remember why that baby came,
and as we gather at the table, those fears we carry are suddenly
wrapped in the swaddling clothes of hope.
Gold, circumstance, mud. We bring them all the Jesus, and,
"Glory to God in the highest," we are saved.
Amen!
1. From an e-mail note from Ann Fontaine, to the "CHRISTMAS ILLUSTRATIONS"
meeting on Ecunet, December 20, 2003
2. John Buchanan, "Just Like the One I Used To Know," sermon,
http://www.fourthchurch.org/120802print.html, 12/8/02
3. Lara Sukhtian, "Palestinians Mark Christmas in Bethlehem," Associated Press, 12/24/03
4. Barbara Brown Taylor, "Past Perfection," Home By Another Way, (Cambridge, Boston: Cowley Publications, 1999), p. 21
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