Packing Christmas
Stories
Object:
Contents
Christmas Stories
A Story to Live By: "Packing Christmas" by John Sumwalt
Shining Moments: "The Christmas Tree: A Story of Synchronicity" by Jane Moschenrose
Scrap Pile: "The Songs of Christmas: The Song of the Least Likely" by J. Robert Stimmel
Christmas Stories
Looking for just the right story for Christmas Eve, the Sunday School Christmas program, or that special service in the nursing home? Several powerful Christmas stories are available in four free samples of StoryShare on the StoryShare website. These included four Sumwalt stories which have become Christmas favorites: "Christmas Trouble," "This Will Be a Sign," "Christmas Communion," and "A Dog Came for Christmas" (children love this one). You will love David Michael Smith's engaging true story of "An Unlikely Angel." This gem is destined to become a Christmas classic. It is the perfect story for Christmas Eve.
We invite you to forward this section of StoryShare to all of your friends who are looking for good Christmas stories. Invite them to click on http://www.csspub.com/storysample1.lasso and check out the sample editions of StoryShare (a password is not needed to view the sample editions).
New subscribers receive a year of StoryShare plus full access to the StoryShare archives for just $19.95. Subscribing online is convenient using our secure server -- or you can all CSS toll-free at (800) 537-1030 Monday - Friday from 8:00 AM - 5:00 PM (Eastern Time) or send an e-mail to orders@csspub.com, and our customer service team will be happy to assist you.
Check out John's commentary on this week's Gospel reading, "Favor with God," in last year's Advent 4, Cycle B edition of StoryShare. You can now access that story and more than 200 other stories, jokes, and sermons from the Cycle B editions of StoryShare in the StoryShare archives. Just go to the CSS website at http://www.csspub.com and click on the StoryShare icon, or go directly to the StoryShare homepage at http://www.csspub.com/story.lasso. When you fill in your user ID (your e-mail address) and your password, you can view the current installment -- and you can also search the entire archive of previous StoryShare editions by day, scripture, and/or keyword. (Look for the "Search StoryShare Archives" menu in the left-hand column.) Click the "submit" button, and you will see a brief summary of the StoryShare edition(s) relating to your query. Be sure to click on "more" to view the entire installment.
Keep sending us your stories. (Please send them to jsumwalt@naspa.net.) Your contributions have helped to make StoryShare one of the best preaching and teaching resources available.
A Story to Live By
Packing Christmas
by John Sumwalt
"My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant."
Luke 1:46b-48a
There was once an old woman who lived in a big, old Victorian house filled with the many treasures she had collected over her eighty-nine years -- antique furniture, original paintings, a twelve-piece setting of rose patterned china sent by her late daughter from Hong Kong, a silver tea set, and many more lovely knick-knacks and keepsakes that had been given to her by family and friends.
When the time came that the old woman could no longer care for herself, her relatives arranged for her to have an estate sale. They told her that every thing had to go, that there wasn't going to be much room in the nursing home.
Then after almost all of the old woman's lovely things had been sold, they packed her few remaining clothes and possessions into a big leather suitcase and an old chest of drawers that she had inherited from her grandmother. It had traveled with "grandma" across the plains in a covered wagon during the Oklahoma land rush. The woman also insisted on taking a very large battered wooden trunk, which she said her father had crafted from scrap lumber when he worked at the trunk factory in Kansas City. It had been a Christmas gift to her mother in 1913, the year before she was born. The trunk had originally been painted black, had once been dark as coal, or so she said, but was now faded and streaked with gray like the old woman's hair. They packed the suitcase, the chest of drawers, the trunk, and the old woman into the minivan and set out for her new home.
When they arrived at Pine Valley Manor they expected that she would be very sad; that, as it had been for many others before her, this would be a difficult day with many tears. But the old woman was smiling as they walked in the door behind the cart that carried her suitcase, the old chest of drawers, and the cherished trunk. She was absolutely beaming, as if this was one of the happiest days of her life.
Just then the load on the cart shifted and the contents of the trunk spilled out onto the floor. There were packets of carefully folded bright-colored Christmas wrapping paper, bundles of aged Christmas cards tied with string, a carolers songbook, hand-knit monogrammed Christmas stockings, a string of red, green, blue, and white lights, a porcelain angel in a yellowed plastic bag, more than a dozen Christmas ornaments in original boxes, and a miniature nativity set carved from ivory.
"Oh my," the old woman laughed, "I guess I need to travel lighter." She knelt down, picked up the tiny baby Jesus figure, and gently laid him in the manger. "You are all I need," she whispered, as if speaking to him alone. Then she gathered up the remaining pieces of the nativity set -- the stable, the donkey, the cow, the sheep and lambs, shepherds, wisemen, camels, Mary, and Joseph -- and tucked them all into the pockets of her coat. And turning to her nephew, the one who had driven the minivan, she said, "Jerry, why don't you take the trunk home. And if you don't want it, give it to one of your sisters. Maybe they can get some use out of some of this old stuff." She laughed again as Jerry helped her to her feet.
One of the aides who had come to escort the old woman asked her how she could be so happy on a day like this. She said, "You haven't even seen your room yet," in a tone of voice that suggested that it wasn't really very nice.
The old woman smiled and said, "Oh, I don't have to see it. I know it will be all right. I've learned to be content wherever I am. God has been so good to me. I feel so blessed."
All those years she had been packing Christmas in her heart, the kind of Christmas you can take with you wherever you go.
Shining Moments
The Christmas Tree: A Story of Synchronicity
by Jane Moschenrose
"He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty."
Luke 1:52-53
It was a week before Christmas. Both my husband and I are pastors, at different churches, and life was hectic. My family had agreed to not get a Christmas tree this year, because our schedules didn't allow us to enjoy it anyway, and we would be gone on vacation beginning on Christmas Day.
But for some reason my eyes were drawn to the ad on my church's bulletin board for the Lions Club Christmas Tree Sale every time I passed it in the hall. Finally, on the 23rd of December, I gave in and went down the street to the sale. I introduced myself to the volunteer Lions Club member at the cash register and confessed my inability to get his sale out of my mind. He sat up straight, with an excited look on his face. "Oh, do you know of a family who could use our help? We usually take care of Christmas for a couple of families a year. We get them gifts for everybody in the family, a Christmas tree, food basket, the whole thing. But this year we just couldn't get the cooperation from the town. They didn't give us any names. Do you know anybody?"
A family from the community, who probably hadn't sought or received any help, came to mind. They were very independent, private people, and worked hard to support their four children. The past year, though, had been full of illness for both of the parents, and there was nothing extra for a Christmas celebration. I gave the Lions Club member their name and address, took a tree home, and thought nothing more of it.
A couple of weeks later, my husband happened to run into the mother of this family. As it turns out, during the week before Christmas she had been having an extremely difficult time, to the point where she felt everyone would be better off without her. On the very night she planned to commit suicide, the doorbell rang. The Lions Club came in with everything the family needed to celebrate Christmas.
She told my husband, "I knew then that God was watching out for us, and we would make it through this rough time."
Was it a coincidence that I was oddly drawn to that ad for the Christmas Tree Sale at the very time the salesperson was seeking a family to help, and the family I thought of to help happened to include a person who needed hope and faith restored? Or was this the active hand of God, granting this woman hope during a time of hopelessness? I vote for the latter.
Jane Moschenrose has served since 1998 as pastor of Wellspring Church, an American Baptist congregation in Farmington Hills, Michigan. She is a graduate of Andover Newton Theological School, and is married to Phillip and mother to Karen. You can reach her at 1133 Elliott Court, Madison Heights, Michigan 48071.
Scrap Pile
The Songs of Christmas: The Song of the Least Likely
by J. Robert Stimmel
Luke 1:39-56
We have come to this lush oasis on our journey down to Bethlehem for the big birthday party. While so many are rushing about, attempting to accomplish all that needs to be done before the noise and crowds of the big party, we are taking time, making a time, to refresh ourselves with the joy of a moment of calm and quiet.
We have been looking at "the songs of Christmas" for a few weeks now, hoping to find some presence of God among the presents of the season. I think many of us have found what we need, even if it wasn't what we were looking for, and hoping for. It may be that simply looking, and hoping, will help us find what will most fill our lives with God's love and peace. This morning, we're listening in as the song of the day is sung during the visit of two pregnant women. It is not a song for weaklings. A pregnant young woman and a pregnant old woman are sharing intimate women's talk about their condition. Don't get up and leave, but children and men probably shouldn't even be here while this song is sung. This is seamy stuff, not meant for men's eyes or for children's ears. Against these extraordinary pregnancies, the world is turned around; it is turned upside-down.
Mary's story is a classic Cinderella story. You remember Cinderella: the heroine of the popular fairy tale, who is treated as a menial drudge by her stepmother and stepsisters but who eventually marries the prince. Each of the stepsisters is meaner and more ugly than the other one. Yet each one thinks the handsome and wonderful prince should choose her. But it is not so. The one most ignored, the one most mistreated, the one who is least likely is the one who is chosen.
Scripture doesn't report any pretense on the part of either Elizabeth or Mary, but Elizabeth is the one who should have been chosen. When people heard this story, the first time they heard the story they knew it should have been Elizabeth. Elizabeth is the aristocrat; Mary is a peasant nobody from a place unknown. Elizabeth has served her time, she is the senior; Mary is young and inexperienced. Elizabeth should be the central actor in this story; and Mary is chosen.
It's not a surprise to us, because we've heard this story so many times before. But time and again, God picks an outsider or an unlikely candidate for a special purpose: you recall Joseph and his multi-colored coat. His brothers were upset with Joseph because Joseph had not served his time. He was too young.
You recall the unlikely David, who was made to tend sheep while his brothers made speeches and collected contributions for the kingship campaign fund. He was ignored, until it was clear God chose him to slay Goliath over the more likely candidates.
Recall Jacob, who usurps the birthright of his brother. Think about tiny Israel -- biblical Israel -- a country of unknowns and nobodies, chosen by God. They weren't chosen because they were strong and powerful. No. They were chosen because they were weak and the least likely to be chosen for anything of significance. Look at Mary. She is an unknown peasant girl, and God chooses her to be the mother of Jesus the Christ, the king people were eagerly anticipating. Every one of them is chosen by God to be a sign that God can do a mighty thing through one who is least likely to be successful. God will do what God wants to do.
God constantly chooses the unlikely. When God chooses these unknown people, it demonstrates that by grace, not by merit, people find honor. So it is no surprise to us, two thousand years later, that God chooses unknown Mary over the deserving Elizabeth. Or is it?
We have grown too familiar with the story if we are not astounded and amazed by the happenings and by the prophetic message, which Mary sings:
The Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.
Luke 1:49-55
These words highlight a season of reversals. God turns our world around. Lowly Mary has found favor with God; God chooses her. She is a powerful sign of a world turned upside-down. Mary's song gives voice to a vision of a new world; a world in which the lowly, the unlikely, the outsiders are lifted to thrones, brought to important places, and given honor.
The Magnificat -- that's what this song is called -- the Magnificat is a hard song for us a few days before Christmas, because we want to hear songs that soothe. We're not expecting melodies that challenge us. But this is an authentic word from Mary, from one of the lowly. It's a song of great joy which Mary sings to God, who does great things in this simple servant of the Lord. One, who could so easily be forgotten, like so many others, has found favor in the sight of God. The advent of Christ, the birth of our Savior, is about God's care for the forgotten ones of our world.
I guess to appreciate the song, to appreciate God's miracle of salvation and redemption, we must either be among the poor and the forgotten or we must align ourselves with the poor and the forgotten. Because Mary's song says that in God's book, those who are on the bottom of society are going to come to the top and those on the top are going down to the bottom. The proud will be scattered, the powerful will be brought down from their thrones and lofty places, and the rich will be sent empty away. This is a constant theme in Luke.
There is judgment in this song. The cost of gaining food for the hungry will surely be harsh judgment on the people and the systems that allowed hunger when food was available. It's an old statistic, but I think it has not changed: "If Americans reduced their meat intake by just 10%, the savings in grains and soybeans would feed 60 million people -- the same number of people who starve worldwide each year." [Quoted in Bottom Line/Personal, December 1991; originally in The Student Environmental Action Guide by the Student Environmental Action Coalition, EarthWorks Press, Berkeley, California.] That's a word of judgment.
So, what are we to make of this song? We who are, I think, not among the poor of our world, but who are the proud and the wealthy and the powerful. What are we to do with a song that turns the world upside-down?
A real appropriation of these thoughts will keep Christmas from falling into some kind of syrupy sentimentalism that concentrates on the sensible shepherds, the cooing of a cute little baby, and the magnificent barnyard animals standing around wide-eyed like the smug papa.
Really understanding this morning's song will even keep us from concentrating on the most unfortunate character in the story -- that disagreeable innkeeper (who, despite his planned appearance in a Christmas Eve sermon, and his alleged insensitivity at the time of the arrival of the holy family, is nowhere to be found in Scripture).
This morning we encounter a Gospel song, which reminds us that God so yearns for reconciliation with us that God does for us what we cannot do for ourselves. God comes to live with us. God takes on human nature that we might come close and learn love. In fact, the love is so great that this Love will go all the way to the cross to show us how important we are. With these thoughts in mind we approach Christmas, not with the usual feelings of exhaustion born of hectic schedules and frustrating tasks and all the things we haven't yet done, but with the sense that God surprises us and renews us in improbable and unlikely ways. I don't think we can instantly make ourselves poor so we can get in on the joy of this song. Those who tell me the song, and the story, are about spiritual openness are only partially right.
The story is a word of promise to the poor, a promise to those who are literally poor. We are not likely to make ourselves poverty-stricken, so we need to align ourselves with the poor and with those in special need, now and for the rest of our lives. That's what God does.
On days symbolizing the twelve days of Christmas, a certain family I know gives special presents. On each of those days, as a way of sharing their Christmas love, they give a gift to a family with special needs; usually a family in what we would think is poverty. There's a turkey one day. There's other food for the table on another day. On one of the days, there are gifts for each family member, something for the home another day. There's some special gift for each of the twelve days of Christmas. The gifts are given silently, and anonymously, because the intention is not to call attention to the givers, but to incarnate God's love in our world today, to make God's love real. It's one small way in which we may align ourselves with the poor and with those who suffer. It's that kind of love which can keep us from a canned and sugary sweet Christmas, which won't get us what we want most desperately.
What we want most desperately, I think, is a part in the story. Oh, we may not yet know that's what we want. But what we want is the opportunity to be part of God's story. At Christmas, a number of unexpected people, people like Mary and Joseph, are pushed onto the stage of human history. They are called to act major parts in the transformation of the world. Some must be coaxed, some come more willingly, and some step out in faith, without any hesitation when the invitation is made. A preacher-writer shares:
Not long ago a friend told me about a church drama troupe that presented, as a special event on the weekend before Christmas, a "dessert and drama" production of Charles Dickens' classic A Christmas Carol. The church fellowship hall was transformed into a theater, folding chairs clustered around tables, all facing a makeshift stage fitted with painted backdrops of the tenements and sooty chimneys of nineteenth-century London.
When the audience gathered and were handed their programs, some were amused to note that the part of the tightfisted Ebenezer Scrooge was being played by the chairman of the church board, a gentle man of quite un-Scrooge-like generosity. They were impressed, though, by the skill and energy he brought to his part. He growled his way through the opening scenes, ringing out every "Bah! Humbug!" with miserly ill will. He shivered with fright and dreadful self-recognition as he was encountered by the series of Christmas ghosts.
The final scene called for a transformed and jubilant Scrooge to chase the shadows of the remorseful night and to greet the light of Christmas Day by flinging open his bedroom window and bellowing festively to the startled city street below, "Me-e-r-rr-y Christmas, everyone! Me-e-r-ry Christmas!" Then Scrooge, wishing to bestow Christmas gifts upon the needy of London and looking for someone to help dispense his cheer, was to act as if he had spied a street urchin passing by. "Hey you, boy, you there!" the mirthful Scrooge was about to shout, pointing vigorously at this imaginary figure. "Come up here, boy. I've got something wonderful for you to do!"
But something beautiful and unexpected happened. When the radiant and transformed Scrooge beckoned from the window "Come up here, boy, I've got something wonderful for you to do," a six-year-old boy in the audience, seated with his family who were members of the congregation, spontaneously rose from his chair in response to this jubilant and generous call and walked on stage, ready to do "something wonderful."
The actor playing Scrooge blinked in disbelief. There was now an unscripted child from the audience standing on center stage. What to do? The audience held its breath. Then the person of faith beneath the veneer of Scrooge took charge. Bounding down from his window perch, he strode across the stage and cheerily embraced the waiting boy. "Yes, indeed," he exclaimed, his voice full of blessing. "You are the one, the very one I had in mind." Then he gently led the boy back to his seat in the audience, returned to the stage, and resumed the play. When the curtain calls were held, it was, of course, this boy, the one who had felt himself personally summoned from his seat, who received, along with old Ebenezer himself, the audience's loudest and warmest applause.
[Thomas G. Long, Whispering the Lyrics, Lima, Ohio: CSS Publishing Co., 1995. Quoted in Will Willimon's Pulpit Resource, December 21, 1997. Used here by permission of CSS Publishing Co.]
That's why we remember Mary, too. In fact, it's why Mary is chosen. Because without any hesitation, when the invitation is extended, she will walk to center stage and take her place in God's story. "My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant." (Luke 1:47-48b).
That's what it takes -- a heart waiting for God to fill it with love. With God's love filling our hearts, then we'll have a part in the Christmas miracle. We'll be the Christmas miracle when we give away what we have, that God might give us what we need -- a little child who needs the warmth of our lives, the love of our hearts, and just a tiny place in which love can grow and prosper in our world.
Pray with me: Fill us, O God, with your love song. And then, help us, O God, to fill this world with the love that grows in us. Amen.
J. Robert Stimmel was born and raised in southern California. He received his Doctor of Religion degree in 1972 from Claremont School of Theology. Bob has been a member of the California-Pacific Conference of the United Methodist Church since 1969, and he is pastor of Downey United Methodist Church, 10801 S. Downey Avenue, Downey, California 90241. E-mail: stimmelbob@earthlink.net
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StoryShare, December 21, 2003, issue.
Copyright 2003 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., P.O. Box 4503, Lima, Ohio 45802-4503.
Christmas Stories
A Story to Live By: "Packing Christmas" by John Sumwalt
Shining Moments: "The Christmas Tree: A Story of Synchronicity" by Jane Moschenrose
Scrap Pile: "The Songs of Christmas: The Song of the Least Likely" by J. Robert Stimmel
Christmas Stories
Looking for just the right story for Christmas Eve, the Sunday School Christmas program, or that special service in the nursing home? Several powerful Christmas stories are available in four free samples of StoryShare on the StoryShare website. These included four Sumwalt stories which have become Christmas favorites: "Christmas Trouble," "This Will Be a Sign," "Christmas Communion," and "A Dog Came for Christmas" (children love this one). You will love David Michael Smith's engaging true story of "An Unlikely Angel." This gem is destined to become a Christmas classic. It is the perfect story for Christmas Eve.
We invite you to forward this section of StoryShare to all of your friends who are looking for good Christmas stories. Invite them to click on http://www.csspub.com/storysample1.lasso and check out the sample editions of StoryShare (a password is not needed to view the sample editions).
New subscribers receive a year of StoryShare plus full access to the StoryShare archives for just $19.95. Subscribing online is convenient using our secure server -- or you can all CSS toll-free at (800) 537-1030 Monday - Friday from 8:00 AM - 5:00 PM (Eastern Time) or send an e-mail to orders@csspub.com, and our customer service team will be happy to assist you.
Check out John's commentary on this week's Gospel reading, "Favor with God," in last year's Advent 4, Cycle B edition of StoryShare. You can now access that story and more than 200 other stories, jokes, and sermons from the Cycle B editions of StoryShare in the StoryShare archives. Just go to the CSS website at http://www.csspub.com and click on the StoryShare icon, or go directly to the StoryShare homepage at http://www.csspub.com/story.lasso. When you fill in your user ID (your e-mail address) and your password, you can view the current installment -- and you can also search the entire archive of previous StoryShare editions by day, scripture, and/or keyword. (Look for the "Search StoryShare Archives" menu in the left-hand column.) Click the "submit" button, and you will see a brief summary of the StoryShare edition(s) relating to your query. Be sure to click on "more" to view the entire installment.
Keep sending us your stories. (Please send them to jsumwalt@naspa.net.) Your contributions have helped to make StoryShare one of the best preaching and teaching resources available.
A Story to Live By
Packing Christmas
by John Sumwalt
"My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant."
Luke 1:46b-48a
There was once an old woman who lived in a big, old Victorian house filled with the many treasures she had collected over her eighty-nine years -- antique furniture, original paintings, a twelve-piece setting of rose patterned china sent by her late daughter from Hong Kong, a silver tea set, and many more lovely knick-knacks and keepsakes that had been given to her by family and friends.
When the time came that the old woman could no longer care for herself, her relatives arranged for her to have an estate sale. They told her that every thing had to go, that there wasn't going to be much room in the nursing home.
Then after almost all of the old woman's lovely things had been sold, they packed her few remaining clothes and possessions into a big leather suitcase and an old chest of drawers that she had inherited from her grandmother. It had traveled with "grandma" across the plains in a covered wagon during the Oklahoma land rush. The woman also insisted on taking a very large battered wooden trunk, which she said her father had crafted from scrap lumber when he worked at the trunk factory in Kansas City. It had been a Christmas gift to her mother in 1913, the year before she was born. The trunk had originally been painted black, had once been dark as coal, or so she said, but was now faded and streaked with gray like the old woman's hair. They packed the suitcase, the chest of drawers, the trunk, and the old woman into the minivan and set out for her new home.
When they arrived at Pine Valley Manor they expected that she would be very sad; that, as it had been for many others before her, this would be a difficult day with many tears. But the old woman was smiling as they walked in the door behind the cart that carried her suitcase, the old chest of drawers, and the cherished trunk. She was absolutely beaming, as if this was one of the happiest days of her life.
Just then the load on the cart shifted and the contents of the trunk spilled out onto the floor. There were packets of carefully folded bright-colored Christmas wrapping paper, bundles of aged Christmas cards tied with string, a carolers songbook, hand-knit monogrammed Christmas stockings, a string of red, green, blue, and white lights, a porcelain angel in a yellowed plastic bag, more than a dozen Christmas ornaments in original boxes, and a miniature nativity set carved from ivory.
"Oh my," the old woman laughed, "I guess I need to travel lighter." She knelt down, picked up the tiny baby Jesus figure, and gently laid him in the manger. "You are all I need," she whispered, as if speaking to him alone. Then she gathered up the remaining pieces of the nativity set -- the stable, the donkey, the cow, the sheep and lambs, shepherds, wisemen, camels, Mary, and Joseph -- and tucked them all into the pockets of her coat. And turning to her nephew, the one who had driven the minivan, she said, "Jerry, why don't you take the trunk home. And if you don't want it, give it to one of your sisters. Maybe they can get some use out of some of this old stuff." She laughed again as Jerry helped her to her feet.
One of the aides who had come to escort the old woman asked her how she could be so happy on a day like this. She said, "You haven't even seen your room yet," in a tone of voice that suggested that it wasn't really very nice.
The old woman smiled and said, "Oh, I don't have to see it. I know it will be all right. I've learned to be content wherever I am. God has been so good to me. I feel so blessed."
All those years she had been packing Christmas in her heart, the kind of Christmas you can take with you wherever you go.
Shining Moments
The Christmas Tree: A Story of Synchronicity
by Jane Moschenrose
"He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty."
Luke 1:52-53
It was a week before Christmas. Both my husband and I are pastors, at different churches, and life was hectic. My family had agreed to not get a Christmas tree this year, because our schedules didn't allow us to enjoy it anyway, and we would be gone on vacation beginning on Christmas Day.
But for some reason my eyes were drawn to the ad on my church's bulletin board for the Lions Club Christmas Tree Sale every time I passed it in the hall. Finally, on the 23rd of December, I gave in and went down the street to the sale. I introduced myself to the volunteer Lions Club member at the cash register and confessed my inability to get his sale out of my mind. He sat up straight, with an excited look on his face. "Oh, do you know of a family who could use our help? We usually take care of Christmas for a couple of families a year. We get them gifts for everybody in the family, a Christmas tree, food basket, the whole thing. But this year we just couldn't get the cooperation from the town. They didn't give us any names. Do you know anybody?"
A family from the community, who probably hadn't sought or received any help, came to mind. They were very independent, private people, and worked hard to support their four children. The past year, though, had been full of illness for both of the parents, and there was nothing extra for a Christmas celebration. I gave the Lions Club member their name and address, took a tree home, and thought nothing more of it.
A couple of weeks later, my husband happened to run into the mother of this family. As it turns out, during the week before Christmas she had been having an extremely difficult time, to the point where she felt everyone would be better off without her. On the very night she planned to commit suicide, the doorbell rang. The Lions Club came in with everything the family needed to celebrate Christmas.
She told my husband, "I knew then that God was watching out for us, and we would make it through this rough time."
Was it a coincidence that I was oddly drawn to that ad for the Christmas Tree Sale at the very time the salesperson was seeking a family to help, and the family I thought of to help happened to include a person who needed hope and faith restored? Or was this the active hand of God, granting this woman hope during a time of hopelessness? I vote for the latter.
Jane Moschenrose has served since 1998 as pastor of Wellspring Church, an American Baptist congregation in Farmington Hills, Michigan. She is a graduate of Andover Newton Theological School, and is married to Phillip and mother to Karen. You can reach her at 1133 Elliott Court, Madison Heights, Michigan 48071.
Scrap Pile
The Songs of Christmas: The Song of the Least Likely
by J. Robert Stimmel
Luke 1:39-56
We have come to this lush oasis on our journey down to Bethlehem for the big birthday party. While so many are rushing about, attempting to accomplish all that needs to be done before the noise and crowds of the big party, we are taking time, making a time, to refresh ourselves with the joy of a moment of calm and quiet.
We have been looking at "the songs of Christmas" for a few weeks now, hoping to find some presence of God among the presents of the season. I think many of us have found what we need, even if it wasn't what we were looking for, and hoping for. It may be that simply looking, and hoping, will help us find what will most fill our lives with God's love and peace. This morning, we're listening in as the song of the day is sung during the visit of two pregnant women. It is not a song for weaklings. A pregnant young woman and a pregnant old woman are sharing intimate women's talk about their condition. Don't get up and leave, but children and men probably shouldn't even be here while this song is sung. This is seamy stuff, not meant for men's eyes or for children's ears. Against these extraordinary pregnancies, the world is turned around; it is turned upside-down.
Mary's story is a classic Cinderella story. You remember Cinderella: the heroine of the popular fairy tale, who is treated as a menial drudge by her stepmother and stepsisters but who eventually marries the prince. Each of the stepsisters is meaner and more ugly than the other one. Yet each one thinks the handsome and wonderful prince should choose her. But it is not so. The one most ignored, the one most mistreated, the one who is least likely is the one who is chosen.
Scripture doesn't report any pretense on the part of either Elizabeth or Mary, but Elizabeth is the one who should have been chosen. When people heard this story, the first time they heard the story they knew it should have been Elizabeth. Elizabeth is the aristocrat; Mary is a peasant nobody from a place unknown. Elizabeth has served her time, she is the senior; Mary is young and inexperienced. Elizabeth should be the central actor in this story; and Mary is chosen.
It's not a surprise to us, because we've heard this story so many times before. But time and again, God picks an outsider or an unlikely candidate for a special purpose: you recall Joseph and his multi-colored coat. His brothers were upset with Joseph because Joseph had not served his time. He was too young.
You recall the unlikely David, who was made to tend sheep while his brothers made speeches and collected contributions for the kingship campaign fund. He was ignored, until it was clear God chose him to slay Goliath over the more likely candidates.
Recall Jacob, who usurps the birthright of his brother. Think about tiny Israel -- biblical Israel -- a country of unknowns and nobodies, chosen by God. They weren't chosen because they were strong and powerful. No. They were chosen because they were weak and the least likely to be chosen for anything of significance. Look at Mary. She is an unknown peasant girl, and God chooses her to be the mother of Jesus the Christ, the king people were eagerly anticipating. Every one of them is chosen by God to be a sign that God can do a mighty thing through one who is least likely to be successful. God will do what God wants to do.
God constantly chooses the unlikely. When God chooses these unknown people, it demonstrates that by grace, not by merit, people find honor. So it is no surprise to us, two thousand years later, that God chooses unknown Mary over the deserving Elizabeth. Or is it?
We have grown too familiar with the story if we are not astounded and amazed by the happenings and by the prophetic message, which Mary sings:
The Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.
Luke 1:49-55
These words highlight a season of reversals. God turns our world around. Lowly Mary has found favor with God; God chooses her. She is a powerful sign of a world turned upside-down. Mary's song gives voice to a vision of a new world; a world in which the lowly, the unlikely, the outsiders are lifted to thrones, brought to important places, and given honor.
The Magnificat -- that's what this song is called -- the Magnificat is a hard song for us a few days before Christmas, because we want to hear songs that soothe. We're not expecting melodies that challenge us. But this is an authentic word from Mary, from one of the lowly. It's a song of great joy which Mary sings to God, who does great things in this simple servant of the Lord. One, who could so easily be forgotten, like so many others, has found favor in the sight of God. The advent of Christ, the birth of our Savior, is about God's care for the forgotten ones of our world.
I guess to appreciate the song, to appreciate God's miracle of salvation and redemption, we must either be among the poor and the forgotten or we must align ourselves with the poor and the forgotten. Because Mary's song says that in God's book, those who are on the bottom of society are going to come to the top and those on the top are going down to the bottom. The proud will be scattered, the powerful will be brought down from their thrones and lofty places, and the rich will be sent empty away. This is a constant theme in Luke.
There is judgment in this song. The cost of gaining food for the hungry will surely be harsh judgment on the people and the systems that allowed hunger when food was available. It's an old statistic, but I think it has not changed: "If Americans reduced their meat intake by just 10%, the savings in grains and soybeans would feed 60 million people -- the same number of people who starve worldwide each year." [Quoted in Bottom Line/Personal, December 1991; originally in The Student Environmental Action Guide by the Student Environmental Action Coalition, EarthWorks Press, Berkeley, California.] That's a word of judgment.
So, what are we to make of this song? We who are, I think, not among the poor of our world, but who are the proud and the wealthy and the powerful. What are we to do with a song that turns the world upside-down?
A real appropriation of these thoughts will keep Christmas from falling into some kind of syrupy sentimentalism that concentrates on the sensible shepherds, the cooing of a cute little baby, and the magnificent barnyard animals standing around wide-eyed like the smug papa.
Really understanding this morning's song will even keep us from concentrating on the most unfortunate character in the story -- that disagreeable innkeeper (who, despite his planned appearance in a Christmas Eve sermon, and his alleged insensitivity at the time of the arrival of the holy family, is nowhere to be found in Scripture).
This morning we encounter a Gospel song, which reminds us that God so yearns for reconciliation with us that God does for us what we cannot do for ourselves. God comes to live with us. God takes on human nature that we might come close and learn love. In fact, the love is so great that this Love will go all the way to the cross to show us how important we are. With these thoughts in mind we approach Christmas, not with the usual feelings of exhaustion born of hectic schedules and frustrating tasks and all the things we haven't yet done, but with the sense that God surprises us and renews us in improbable and unlikely ways. I don't think we can instantly make ourselves poor so we can get in on the joy of this song. Those who tell me the song, and the story, are about spiritual openness are only partially right.
The story is a word of promise to the poor, a promise to those who are literally poor. We are not likely to make ourselves poverty-stricken, so we need to align ourselves with the poor and with those in special need, now and for the rest of our lives. That's what God does.
On days symbolizing the twelve days of Christmas, a certain family I know gives special presents. On each of those days, as a way of sharing their Christmas love, they give a gift to a family with special needs; usually a family in what we would think is poverty. There's a turkey one day. There's other food for the table on another day. On one of the days, there are gifts for each family member, something for the home another day. There's some special gift for each of the twelve days of Christmas. The gifts are given silently, and anonymously, because the intention is not to call attention to the givers, but to incarnate God's love in our world today, to make God's love real. It's one small way in which we may align ourselves with the poor and with those who suffer. It's that kind of love which can keep us from a canned and sugary sweet Christmas, which won't get us what we want most desperately.
What we want most desperately, I think, is a part in the story. Oh, we may not yet know that's what we want. But what we want is the opportunity to be part of God's story. At Christmas, a number of unexpected people, people like Mary and Joseph, are pushed onto the stage of human history. They are called to act major parts in the transformation of the world. Some must be coaxed, some come more willingly, and some step out in faith, without any hesitation when the invitation is made. A preacher-writer shares:
Not long ago a friend told me about a church drama troupe that presented, as a special event on the weekend before Christmas, a "dessert and drama" production of Charles Dickens' classic A Christmas Carol. The church fellowship hall was transformed into a theater, folding chairs clustered around tables, all facing a makeshift stage fitted with painted backdrops of the tenements and sooty chimneys of nineteenth-century London.
When the audience gathered and were handed their programs, some were amused to note that the part of the tightfisted Ebenezer Scrooge was being played by the chairman of the church board, a gentle man of quite un-Scrooge-like generosity. They were impressed, though, by the skill and energy he brought to his part. He growled his way through the opening scenes, ringing out every "Bah! Humbug!" with miserly ill will. He shivered with fright and dreadful self-recognition as he was encountered by the series of Christmas ghosts.
The final scene called for a transformed and jubilant Scrooge to chase the shadows of the remorseful night and to greet the light of Christmas Day by flinging open his bedroom window and bellowing festively to the startled city street below, "Me-e-r-rr-y Christmas, everyone! Me-e-r-ry Christmas!" Then Scrooge, wishing to bestow Christmas gifts upon the needy of London and looking for someone to help dispense his cheer, was to act as if he had spied a street urchin passing by. "Hey you, boy, you there!" the mirthful Scrooge was about to shout, pointing vigorously at this imaginary figure. "Come up here, boy. I've got something wonderful for you to do!"
But something beautiful and unexpected happened. When the radiant and transformed Scrooge beckoned from the window "Come up here, boy, I've got something wonderful for you to do," a six-year-old boy in the audience, seated with his family who were members of the congregation, spontaneously rose from his chair in response to this jubilant and generous call and walked on stage, ready to do "something wonderful."
The actor playing Scrooge blinked in disbelief. There was now an unscripted child from the audience standing on center stage. What to do? The audience held its breath. Then the person of faith beneath the veneer of Scrooge took charge. Bounding down from his window perch, he strode across the stage and cheerily embraced the waiting boy. "Yes, indeed," he exclaimed, his voice full of blessing. "You are the one, the very one I had in mind." Then he gently led the boy back to his seat in the audience, returned to the stage, and resumed the play. When the curtain calls were held, it was, of course, this boy, the one who had felt himself personally summoned from his seat, who received, along with old Ebenezer himself, the audience's loudest and warmest applause.
[Thomas G. Long, Whispering the Lyrics, Lima, Ohio: CSS Publishing Co., 1995. Quoted in Will Willimon's Pulpit Resource, December 21, 1997. Used here by permission of CSS Publishing Co.]
That's why we remember Mary, too. In fact, it's why Mary is chosen. Because without any hesitation, when the invitation is extended, she will walk to center stage and take her place in God's story. "My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant." (Luke 1:47-48b).
That's what it takes -- a heart waiting for God to fill it with love. With God's love filling our hearts, then we'll have a part in the Christmas miracle. We'll be the Christmas miracle when we give away what we have, that God might give us what we need -- a little child who needs the warmth of our lives, the love of our hearts, and just a tiny place in which love can grow and prosper in our world.
Pray with me: Fill us, O God, with your love song. And then, help us, O God, to fill this world with the love that grows in us. Amen.
J. Robert Stimmel was born and raised in southern California. He received his Doctor of Religion degree in 1972 from Claremont School of Theology. Bob has been a member of the California-Pacific Conference of the United Methodist Church since 1969, and he is pastor of Downey United Methodist Church, 10801 S. Downey Avenue, Downey, California 90241. E-mail: stimmelbob@earthlink.net
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StoryShare, December 21, 2003, issue.
Copyright 2003 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., P.O. Box 4503, Lima, Ohio 45802-4503.
