The Renovating Reverend

Several years ago, Steve and I were attending a small neighborhood church. One December, we were very surprised to hear that, for various reasons, neither the organist nor the ministers were going to be available on Christmas Eve. A Christmas Eve service had not been planned at all. Many felt it was unthinkable not to have a service that night, but no one knew what to do about it. Steve had just purchased a book of traditional Christmas folk tales, and was inspired to suggest that he read one of them, after the biblical account of Jesus’ birth was read, and that I offer my reflections on the readings. We could sing carols without music, or find a recording to play as accompaniment. I have to tell you that, although I grew up in the Baptist tradition, where the emphasis on extemporaneous prayer and speaking looms large, I’ve never been very good at coming up with something to say at the spur of the moment. So I was slightly panicked at coming up with something meaningful at short notice—and, after all, there can be high expectations at Christmas. However, when Steve chose the French folk tale about Old Pierre, I read the story and relaxed—I had some ideas about what I could say. I began to write my notes. We gathered candles, printed a simple bulletin, and found a karaoke CD of favorite carols. Someone else from the congregation offered to greet people at the door and handle the offering. Whether three people or thirty showed up, we would share a simple, family-like gathering.

When the Christmas Eve service began, the many voices singing Away in a Manger made the karaoke music sound warm and rich. I read the Christmas story from The Gospel of Luke. Then Steve began to read the story of Old Pierre. If you’re not familiar with this tale, it’s about a shoemaker who works and lives alone, his wife and child having died many years ago. On Christmas Eve, he falls asleep in his chair and has a dream in which Jesus promises to stop by for a visit the next day, Christmas Day. Old Pierre feels blessed and is excited that he will actually get to meet Jesus, although whether that will be as an adult or as a child, he doesn’t know. He thinks of the Wise Men and their gifts, and he goes looking for a dusty little box that holds a beautiful pair of tiny shoes for a baby. It is the finest work he ever did, and the best gift he can give to Jesus. With the shoes found, Pierre goes to bed and then wakes early to clean his small shop and living space in preparation for his holy guest. He occasionally looks out the door to see if Jesus is coming. Instead, he sees the street sweeper out working in the cold. Pierre calls him by name and invites him inside to get warm for a bit. He tells the man about his dream of meeting Jesus, and the street sweeper hopes for Pierre that his dream will come true. A while later, Pierre looks down the street and sees a very young woman with a baby. He invites her inside to get warm and to have some soup. He learns she is looking for a job and has no money. When he sees that the baby has nothing on her feet, he gives her the beautiful little shoes that he had planned to give to Jesus. As she leaves, the young woman also expresses her hope that Pierre’s dream will come true. It is getting late when he sees three beggars, whom he invites in to share what is left of his soup. They also wish Pierre well. When the last of his guests have left, the old shoemaker sits misty eyed, sad that Jesus did not visit. Then Pierre sees a bright light and hears the voice of Jesus telling him that he did stop by that day. Jesus explains that he was in each of the people whom Pierre had welcomed into his home, and that by kindly sharing with them, Pierre had met and helped Jesus. Pierre goes to bed with a joyful heart.

Reflections on the Readings

Old Pierre experienced Jesus in a new, expanded way, that Christmas Day. I would guess that your understanding of what Christmas means, and of who Jesus is, has probably changed over the years, too. No matter what the experience or expression of our faith is this Christmas, I think the story of Old Pierre provides us all with an opportunity to re-imagine our understanding of both the season and its focal point.

My own understanding of Christmas certainly has changed over the years. As a child, Christmas was presented to me as a paradox–something that may seem contradictory, but is true. Christmas, I had been taught, was the incredible day when the limitless, all-powerful Creator of all things lowered himself and miraculously entered human history as the baby Jesus. In my childhood wisdom, I responded to this teaching with the thought, “So what? God can do anything, and God loves us. No big deal, then.” I could not see where the paradox or the miracle came into play. God was just being God. I continued to enjoy singing carols and, especially, attending candlelight Christmas Eve services, however, the Christmas story didn’t hold any deep spiritual significance for me. This was more than a bit disconcerting, considering the beliefs of the people around me, but I assumed that I’d understand such things better some day.

As a teenager, I heard a sermon suggesting a different paradox of Christmas. Jesus, as the son of God, was both the giver and the gift of reconciliation with our Creator. When I had pondered this arrangement, it didn’t seem any more paradoxical than the teaching from my childhood, and for all the same reasons: “God can do anything, and God loves us.” Besides, I thought, we often hear that when any of us truly gives of ourselves, we can be said to be both giver and gift. That felt natural, not miraculous.

Like Old Pierre, it wasn’t until a bit later in life that I began to gain a more personal and meaningful perspective on the celebration of Jesus’ birth. And I’m very glad that the story of Old Pierre has been shared with us, because it helps illustrate how I’ve come to see this day. I can still appreciate the teachings from my childhood—that God is active in and among us human beings, and that we, like God, can be both giver and gift whenever we truly give of ourselves–but I can also see how Christmas is less about paradox than it is about how we participate in life. What does it mean to participate? It’s all about “partaking,” “involvement,” and “sharing.” It is these words, these concepts, that I see coming alive in the Christmas Story and in the story of Old Pierre, in the most ordinary settings, in the most meaningful of ways.

Let’s start with the story from scripture. Jesus’ mother, Mary, needed a sheltered place to give birth to Jesus, but there were no vacancies in the local hotels. She and Joseph were offered the only available shelter, a stable, so Jesus was born in a location that was part of everyday life, sharing space with the kinds of animals that help people get work done and provide food. We learn that Jesus’ family was visited by shepherds–ordinary folks who were often looked down on because of their way of life. The shepherds left their sheep, their work, to see a child whom shimmering, singing angels had personally invited them to meet.

I’d like to contrast this scene with one of the ancient religious texts that did not make it into the Bible we know today, the Gospel of the Infancy of Jesus Christ. This interesting text has baby Jesus speaking as if he were an adult, prophesying from the cradle. It also describes him as being impervious to any harm. He’s not really a human baby. But The Gospel of Luke doesn’t portray Jesus as a self-contained human shell for God, set apart from the human condition. Rather, in Luke’s account, Jesus is fully human. There is strong recognition of the divine presence, but the writer never denies the earthiness of the event. Luke rather simply paints the picture of the newly born Jesus as a fully human child with a down-home, impromptu birthplace, a heavenly choir, and a bucolic bunch of visitors, all sharing together in the happy event of his birth. God is present in everyday circumstances, with everyday people.

In the French folktale, Old Pierre hopes to meet Jesus just as the shepherds did, in person, in the flesh. While earnestly waiting for Jesus to appear, Old Pierre encounters an acquaintance and some strangers. He shares his home and his food with them. For the baby with bare feet, he provides shoes. Pierre experiences joy and warm companionship with these folks. He is focused on meeting Jesus, but he doesn’t get completely hung up on this. Pierre is connecting with the people he encounters, fully present to the life around him. He’s feeding people, he’s clothing them, and he’s visiting with them. And his visitors are engaging him right back and encouraging him as he waits for Jesus. There’s this spiritual as well as human connection that we saw in the Christmas Story. And, as in the Christmas Story, there is no sense of an austere giver and a lowly recipient. There is only participation with and among the divine and the human. We can see how Pierre experienced Jesus—all that Jesus is and means—without Jesus actually standing before him that Christmas day. Pierre was sharing what he had to give with others, partaking in a meal with them, becoming involved in their lives. It seems as though Pierre’s focus on Jesus enhanced his human connection, and his human connection deepened his experience of God. I believe this is what the mature Jesus was talking about when he said that anytime we are loving and kind to someone in need, someone overlooked or ignored, we have been loving and kind to Jesus, himself.

So I invite you to consider that the Christmas story from the Gospel of Luke and the story of Old Pierre suggest not a paradox of Christmas, but a participatory Christmas, a circle of profound participation in the activities of God and of human beings. After all, Jesus was not “divinely detached,” dispensing gifts from on high. He wasn’t detached from the divine, either. Jesus’ birth and his life demonstrated that we, as humans, can be both connected with God and participate in God’s loving, giving, grace-full creation. And the celebration of Christmas is the annual reminder for us to participate ever more fully in what Jesus modeled, a life that is fully human, with all of our seeming limitations, neediness, and shortcomings, and a life that is fully connected with God, with all of God’s provision for all that we need every day; provision in such an abundance that we are able and motivated to pass along the necessities, kindness, and love in our daily lives. In so doing we will continue to stay in the circle of profound participation. We will continue to meet, experience, and walk in the footsteps of Jesus.

Merry Christmas!