Celtic Advent Day XXXIV December 19

 

Celtic Advent - Day XXXIV  -  December 19

“When the song of the angels is stilled,

when the star in the sky is gone,

when the kings and princes are home,

when the shepherds are back with their flocks,

 

the work of Christmas begins:

 

to find the lost,

to heal the broken,

to feed the hungry,

to release the prisoner,

to rebuild the nations,

to bring peace among the people,

to make music in the heart.”

~  Howard Thurman

 

Would you have known Jesus was the Christ, the Messiah, when he was a baby?

 

Will you be able to recognize him when he comes again?

 

I was driving our youngest daughter home from jr. high school. I was tired and crabby and the last thing I wanted was to go home and cook supper. So, I tried to get some ideas from her, a fool’s errand if there ever was one.

 

“So, I’ve had a really tough day, sweet heart. I’m really exhausted. What would you like for supper? Chinese? Italian? McDonalds? Wendy’s? KFC?”

 

“I don’t know, Mom,” she said in her bored teen way, “Whatever.”

 

“So, there’s a KFC up ahead. We could do fried chicken and mashed potatoes, and . .. “

 

“Ewwww,” she said, “it’s so greasy.”

 

“Okaaaay . . . how about McDonalds?”

“No, I had McDonalds last Tuesday.”

 

“Wendy’s, then?”

 

“Same stuff, different package.”

 

If any of you have had a teen you know where this conversation is headed.

 

Trying not to show my exasperation, and aware that I was going to have to downshift my VW Bug because a stop light was coming up pretty fast, I said, “So, just tell me.”

At that point, I was in a long line at the stoplight. I could see a pan handler weaving his way from car to car, asking for spare change. He was filthy and disheveled and clearly in an altered state of conscience. 

 

I could feel my grip on the steering wheel tightening as he got closer to my car. He tried to make eye contact with me but I stared straight ahead. Mercifully, he walked right by. 

 

After I had taken my foot off the break and slowly shifted my foot to the gas pedal and shifted my car into gear, our youngest daughter said, “So, Mom, why didn’t you give that many some spare change?”

 

“Well, because I don’t have any,” I said.

 

She reached into the shelf under my radio and dug out four quarters. “Here’s a dollar right here that you didn’t even know you had. So, if you gave it to him, you wouldn’t even have noticed that it was gone.”

 

Now, I was annoyed. “Did you see him? The man was drunk. Clearly. Intoxicated. If I gave him that money, he’d just spend it on booze.”

 

“Oh,” she said, “so I guess it turns out that the real difference between us and them is that we get to choose how to spend our money. We can choose to spend it on good, home cooked food or we can spend it on junk fast food.”

 

“But,” she continued her sermon, feeding me words she had heard me preach, “If the poor want to spend their money on something we don’t think they should, they don’t get out money, but they do get our judgment.”

 

Yeah. So, as if that wasn't enough to learn from, God sent me another story. 

 

I have a dear friend who, years ago, was going through a very difficult time which included bankruptcy. The meeting with her lawyer was running overtime and he was rushing to attend a special annual mass at the Roman Catholic Cathedral for lawyers.

They continued their conversation as he walked her out to the parking garage where they ran into a homeless man who was begging for spare change.

 

The lawyer stiffened and sneered at the man as he walked by. My friend stopped and talked with the man for a few moments. Then, she reached into her purse and gave him what she had: three quarters.

As she caught up with the lawyer, he was clearly annoyed and said to her, “Why did you do that? He’s only going to spend it on booze.”

She looked at him and said, “You’re a Christian, right?”

“Of course,” he said, “I’m a Roman Catholic.”

“But,” she said, “You’re a Christian, right?”

“Yes,” he answered, getting more annoyed, “and I’m going to be late for mass.”

“Let me ask you something,” she continued. “You believe that Jesus is going to come again, right?”

“Sure,” he said, “What has that got to do with that drunk?”

“Well, she said, “Suppose that man was Jesus? Suppose he came back as a homeless man? Suppose he comes back as a homeless man to see whether or not you’ve been listening to him when he said, ‘And I, when I am lifted up, I will draw all to me’? All, he said. Not some. All.”

The lawyer grew quiet as she continued.

 

“If that man was Jesus, how do you think you passed the test? Have you never been broken before? What is it that keeps your life from being completely shattered like his? What might make the difference in his life? I gave him a few minutes of my time, a few kind words and three quarters. Are you willing to risk your salvation – and, possibly his – for three pieces of silver?”

Now, that woman was not rich. Indeed, she was filing for bankruptcy. She was both broke and as broken as communion bread. She was not ordained. She was not a priest or a deacon or a member of a religious order.

He was a fairly successful lawyer. Fancy office downtown. A devoutly religious man who was rushing off to church. He was Roman Catholic. She happened to be an Episcopalian.

But, I ask you, which one was the better Christian?

I’ll leave you with the two questions with which I began:

 

Would you have known Jesus was the Christ, the Messiah, when he was a baby?

 

Will you be able to recognize him when he comes again?

 

And, this to consider:

 

The only way we can see Jesus in others, in the hunger and thirst and nakedness and estrangement and imprisonment of others, is to have known him ourselves and to have met him in those very places in our own lives.

 

The only way we can touch Jesus in others is to have touched him in the broken places of our own lives, the very places where he has come to seek us out and to offer us salvation.         ~ Br. David Vryhoff, SSJE