The Renovating Reverend

After a long break, I’m returning to active blogging. One of my first blog posts, on blogspot, over fifteen years ago, was a Christmas Eve sermon that I had given. It was hastily written, and I’d always wanted to rework the ending, to convey my thoughts more clearly. What better way to return to the blog than to edit the original sermon and share it on Christmas Eve!

Photo by Gavin Wilson on Unsplash

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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 – I could then 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. 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 the tale about Old Pierre, 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.

I began to share my reflections on the readings… 

Old Pierre experienced Jesus in a new, expanded way, that Christmas Day.

I would guess that, no matter what the experience or expression of our faith is this Christmas, our understanding of what Christmas means and our understanding of who Jesus is, has probably changed over the years.

As a child, Christmas was presented to me as a paradox, something that seems contradictory but is true.  Christmas was the incredible day when the limitless, all-powerful Creator made himself limited by entering human history as the baby Jesus.  In my childhood wisdom, I thought, “So what?  God can do anything, and God loves us.  No big deal, there!”  I didn’t see where the paradox or the miracle came into play.  God was just being God.  I continued to love singing carols and, especially, attending candlelight Christmas Eve services, but the Christmas story didn’t hold any special spiritual significance for me.  This was vaguely disconcerting, considering the beliefs of the people around me, but I figured that I’d understand things better some day.

As a teenager, I heard that the paradox of Christmas was that Jesus, as the son of God, was both the giver and the gift of reconciliation.  But this didn’t seem any more paradoxical than the teaching from my childhood…for all the same reasons.  Besides, I recognized that when any of us truly gives of ourselves, we can be said to be both giver and gift.

Like Old Pierre, it wasn’t until a bit later in life that I gained a new, more personal perspective on the celebration of Jesus’ birth.  And I’m very glad that Steve chose to read the story of Old Pierre because it helps illustrate how I’ve come to see this holy day.  I 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 see how Christmas may be less about paradox than it is about participation. 

Some words that are similar in meaning to the word “participation” are “partaking,” “involvement,” and “sharing.”   It is these ideas that I see coming alive in the Christmas Story and in the story of Old Pierre.  I’ll start with the story from scripture.  Jesus’ mother, Mary, needed a sheltered place to give birth to Jesus and care for him.  Although Jesus was this incredible gift of God’s love, grace, and power, he also was in need of so many ordinary things.  Jesus needed his mother to sustain him, as a brand-new human being.  He needed a lot of care, as all babies do. 

Along this thought line of Jesus being human, it’s interesting to note that 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—has baby Jesus speaking as if he were an adult—prophesying!–practically from the cradle, and he’s impervious to any harm.  But I can’t see Jesus simply as a human shell for God, set apart from the human condition…and I don’t think Luke portrays him this way.  Rather, Jesus is fully human—hungry, tired, vulnerable…just plain needy.  And yet, although he had all of these human needs, he grows to become this incredibly giving, inclusive, energy-exuding, grace-filled, God-connected person, whose life, in one fashion or another, has continued to bring light and healing to countless people.

One of these people was Old Pierre, who wanted so earnestly to meet Jesus.  While waiting for Jesus to appear, Old Pierre encounters people in need, he offers them warmth, kindness, food, and shoes for the baby.  Pierre himself experiences joy and warm companionship with these people.  He’s focused on meeting Jesus, but he doesn’t get hung up on this.  Pierre connected with people, with life around him.  He fed people, he clothed them, he visited with them…and they visited with him.  There’s this spiritual as well as human connection that we saw in the Christmas Story.  And, like the Christmas Story, there is no sense of a removed, austere giver up there and a lowly, needy recipient down here.  There is only participation with and among the divine and the human.  Pierre experienced Jesus—all that Jesus is and means—before Jesus actually stood before him, because Pierre was sharing what he had to give with others, partaking in a meal with them, becoming involved in their lives (to some extent).  His focus on Jesus enhanced his human connection, and his human connection deepened his experience of God.  This is what Jesus meant 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, perhaps the Christmas story and the story of Old Pierre are not meant to leave us marveling at a paradox, but noticing an invitation. An invitation to participate.

After all, Jesus was not divinely detached, popping in briefly to dispense gifts and then retreating into heaven.  In Luke’s story, he came into the middle of ordinary life – into borrowed shelter, near working animals, welcomed by tired shepherds. And in Old Pierre’s story, Jesus comes again, not as a visible guest, but in neighbors, strangers, and need.

Participation, then, isn’t about great insight or heroic faith. It’s about presence. And it looks like noticing who is hungry, cold, or lonely. It looks like opening a door, sharing a meal, offering what we have (even if we think we’re saving it for a holier purpose).

On that Christmas Day, Old Pierre never stopped waiting for Jesus. Because of that, he was fully present to everyone who crossed his path. In the end, he discovered that he had not missed Jesus at all.

Perhaps that’s the gift of Christmas for us, as well – not that we figure it out perfectly, but that we learn to look for God in the life right in front of us – and to trust that whenever we love generously, welcome freely, and share what we have, we are walking in the footsteps of Jesus.

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Now, go into the life that waits for you – fully present, open, and attentive. May you participate ever more deeply in God’s loving, grace-filled creation, sharing what you have received, in kindness, generosity, and love.  And as you do, may you continue to meet and walk in the footsteps of Jesus. Amen.

Merry Christmas!