A children’s story...
Once upon a time, in that vast, cosmic, neck-and-neck struggle between good and evil, it seemed like the devil had won. In fact, the devil had become so powerful, he had locked God up in prison, and bound and gagged him so he couldn’t move or speak. For a long, long time, God could not tell us how much he loved us, could not dry our tears, or make us laugh, or show us how to be kind.
And with God locked away, the world became very cold. People hated themselves and were mean to each other. They were so sad they couldn’t enjoy the birds singing, or puppies licking their faces, or all the beautiful sunsets, or the fragrant flowers. All they could do was walk around with big frowns.
Well, one day, the devil went to visit God in prison. Now God, you remember, had not been able to speak for a long, long time. And he was so anxious to speak that he thought he’d propose something to the devil. So God held up one finger, like this....
"One?" the devil said. "You want to say one word? Just one?"
God nodded his head eagerly. At first, the devil just sneered, but he was very curious about what this one word could be. So he thought out loud, "Well, God, you surely can’t do much damage with just one word. So, well, OK, I’ll let you say one word. Just one."
Slowly the devil removed the gag from God’s mouth. And suddenly God’s face grew very bright. Suddenly, all of the love that he had felt for us for all those years, all the joy and compassion, all his hopes and dreams for the world he made found their way into one word. Just one word.
Do you know what it was?
That one word was "Jesus". St. John tells us this morning that "the word became flesh and dwelt among us." And so it was, through that word, Jesus, that we came to know what was in God’s heart.
So many words surround us, bombard us all day long. Driving up Market Street with the radio on can be like traveling through one big dictionary. So many words.
They tell us how we should look, what to buy, what kind of Vodka to drink, what to eat, what to wear, how to make big bucks, be wrinkle-free and have flat abs.
There are so many words, we can’t possibly absorb them all, so we have to sort through them, decide which ones we listen to, and which ones to shut out.
Which of those words speak of reality, and which represent only illusions, dead ends? Of this vast array of words, which ones will shape how we feel, what we think, how we respond to the people and events in our lives? Which ones we can we build our lives on? We have to choose.
In 1914, the guns of August sounded, sending Europe into war. As Christmas drew near, the Pope called for a cease-fire. Both sides replied: "Impossible!" The German High Command told their troops "to let their hearts beat to God during the coming season, and to keep their fists on the enemy."
But on sundown of Christmas Eve, the generals were not heeded. The firing stopped. Troops on both sides came out of the trenches, sang carols, exchanged gifts. On Christmas Day, they ate together and played soccer. Then, as evening fell, they embraced each other and said good-bye. Christmas was over. The next day it was war as usual. It was a one-time event; it never happened again.
A young English soldier wrote home that the Germans were friendly, "jolly good fellows." At the end of his letter he stated simply the puzzling thing about that Christmas truce: "Both sides have started firing and are enemies again. Strange it all seems, doesn’t it?"
This strangeness is a door to what some call the miracle of Christmas. For a moment, he glimpsed a truth beneath everyday logic, a bond with the enemy soldiers that ran beneath all the conflicts and struggles. And then the vision was gone, and anger and isolation returned once again. "Strange it all seems, doesn’t it?"
When such conflicting visions alternate rapidly, we become confused. Which one is true? Which one is real? Which one can I build a life on? If I say that the communion the soldiers experienced is what is most true, then I’ll be at odds with the majority of people in the world around me, as strange as a Christmas truce. If I choose the vision of isolation and separateness as true, then I can explain the Christmas truce as a mere blip on the radar screen, a freak occurrence. I can then go about the acceptable business of protecting myself and what I have, living with my hands clenched.
Ultimately, we must choose—each day we must choose— which vision, which word, to embrace, which one to build our lives on. Whether to live with our fists clenched, protecting as much as we can gather in the time we have on this planet, or to relax our grasp, trust. No more need for fear, no more recoiling from life. We can forget ourselves, find room for joy, spend ourselves and be spent for the sake of others.
This is not the lure of an ideal, a pious wish that things were different. We’re talking about something real and undeniable: We are all interdependent, members of one another, one body, one family, a communion.
The isolation that we know in our everyday experience—-whether in our families, or here in our parish, or in our larger world—is not the truth of who we are. No, this experience of isolation simply tells us that we are out of touch with our deepest selves, estranged from the more basic truth.
The Christmas miracle is not one of naivete and pious idealism in a year of unrelenting realism. Just the opposite. This holy day of Christmas is the one day of reality in a year of illusion.
And the question on this sacred morning is whether we, if only for a moment, will let that vision, that word, Jesus, take root in our hearts, seek to build our lives on it.
Perhaps the greeting card that symbolizes this Christmas choice has already been written. Fra Giovanni put it this way back in the 14th century:
I salute you!
There is nothing I can give you which you do not already have;
but there is much, that, while I cannot give it, you can take.
No heaven
can come to us unless our hearts find rest in it today. Take Heaven.
No peace
lies in the future which is not hidden in this present instant. Take Peace.
The gloom of the world is but a shadow; behind it, yet within our reach is
joy. Take Joy.
On this holy day, God spoke for us a new Word, one on which we could build our lives, gave us a new way of seeing ourselves and our world.
It’s as though there were a beautifully wrapped package under the tree. It is a gift for a beloved child. It has your name on it. And the question you must wrestle with on this holy day and every day of your life is whether to open that gift.
