I Love to Tell the Story

a sermon preached by Rev. Khleber M. Van Zandt V at First Unitarian Church of Alton, Illinois, December 13, 2009

after readings from Stephen J. Patterson’s The God of Jesus,

and Sophia Lyon Fahs’ poem,  “For So the Children Come”:

For so the children come

And so they have been coming.

Always in the same way they come

born of the seed of man and woman.

 

No angels herald their beginnings.

No prophets predict their future courses.

No wisemen see a star to show where to find the babe

that will save humankind.

 

Yet each night a child is born is a holy night,

Fathers and mothers--

sitting beside their children’s cribs

feel glory in the sight of a new life beginning.

 

They ask, “Where and how will this new life end?

Or will it ever end?”

 

Each night a child is born is a holy night--

A time for singing,

A time for wondering,

A time for worshipping.

 

I Love to Tell the Story

[n.b. - notes in red correspond to slides in associated PowerPoint presentation or music on iPod]

 (- 1 - A Star and Three Wise Men)

It was my first year in seminary, at about this time of year.  I was walking across campus, alone, and as I entered the big double doors into the rotunda of the main building, two of my fellow students were deep in discussion in the center of the space.  When they looked up and saw me there, they said, “Hey, we were just talking about you.  We want to know why you Unitarians would celebrate Christmas.”  O, God.

Now one might hear such a question as an accusation of some kind, or as an attempt to solidify some boundaries around who’s in and who’s out - especially if you’re a non-Christian in a Christian seminary.  But I had had enough experience in that context by then to know that most of the questions I got like that came from a place of genuine interest and love rather than from a place of suspicion or loathing - most of the questions, not all.

Well, my mind went blank.  As I searched for something cogent to say, I realized what a good question they’d asked.  Why would people who don’t consider Jesus their personal savior, don’t believe in the inerrancy of the biblical texts, and don’t believe in the infallibility of the church (especially its leaders) - why would people like that celebrate Christmas?

As I recall, I began to stammer something about how the Christian celebration of Christmas had gotten all wrapped up in pagan symbolism and had been thoroughly appropriated by secular economics as well.  But then I stopped, because I realized that what I was saying was more about how they shouldn’t celebrate Christmas rather than why I should.  Once again, I was defining myself negatively, telling others what it is I don’t believe and why they shouldn’t believe it, either - I fall prey to that unhelpful tactic as much as anybody. 

And then it came to me, a positively salvific flash of insight, an answer to their question that saved me from the purgatory of shame and embarrassment before my colleagues.  The flash was a gift straight from Sophia Lyon Fahs and came in the words of a simple poem:  “Each night a child is born is a holy night.”

A child is born.  We need know no more than that.  If the stories of shepherds and angels and kings from afar sound archaic, sound fanciful, sound mythological, maybe they are.  But that doesn’t mean they’re wrong.  Just because they’re obviously not based in historical truth doesn’t mean they’re not based in a broader, deeper kind of truth.  All we know, everything we can read about the Christmas story is found in suspect scribblings written thousands of years ago by biased reporters with an agenda a mile long.  There are no actual contemporary accounts, no witnesses we can ask about what transpired in one place on one night so long ago. 

Even if there were, would that help settle things?  Would that help you believe?  Or doesn’t what happened so long ago continue to happen, again and again and again?  And aren’t we all witnesses to that strange and happy and mysterious truth?

 

 (- 2 - Blank)

Believe me, it was the strangest night.  And since you asked, I’ll tell you about it.  I tell a lot of people about it, because for the last few years, there’s been a steady stream of you folks coming by here looking for the stable which, I’ll show you if you want to see, isn’t here anymore.  But I’m still here, and I’ll be happy to tell you all I know.  You may not be able to believe everything you hear, but I was there, and you can believe me.

 (- 3 - City at Night)

Well.  That night - that’s what you want to know about.  I haven’t seen any others like it in all my ninety-some years.

My wife Sarah and I had gone to sleep early because one of the big caravans (-4- Caravan in Town)  was expected into town from the north country the next morning.  I always tried to get extra sleep before a workday like that - it was next to impossible to find work if they knew you were from our end of town, so I learned to service the camels and to do whatever else the traders needed.  It wasn’t much of a living, but it kept us in this house - this little one-room bungalow,  (-5- Home Interior)  which is all we needed.  We never could have any kids so we didn’t have to worry about that.  We just had to look out after ourselves, which, believe me, is plenty hard enough. 

( -6- Sarah)    There’s Sarah, in our younger days, God rest her soul.)

Anyway, our house is small as you can see.  Nothing to brag about,        ( -7 - At the Window)   but it does have one nice thing - a window - which is more than most of our neighbors can say.  ‘Course, back then, you couldn’t see much -  the window only gave us a view of the stable next door and the street in front of it.  Because of the all the fun fragrances coming outta that place, I always wanted to cover it over, but Sarah said it was probably going to be the only window she would ever have and for me to leave it open for her so she could have some light. 

 (-8- The Stable Next Door) 

That old stable was usually quiet when the weather turned colder.  The animals wanted as much as we did to get out of the wind and to nestle down and wait for the warmth of the sun.  So that night, when I woke up to a bunch of commotion from that direction, (-9- The Inn Down the Street)  I tell you, I was stumped.  Believe me, I was used to waking up to the sounds of the rich people up the hill in the inn.  (-10- Rich Neighbors)  They never knew when to shut it down.  I guess if you’ve got the means, you just party all the time.  It wasn’t their partying I minded so much, ( -11-  Starlight in Town)  but the fact that they always dumped their buckets and pots out in the street.  I swear it never dried up down here in front of our house.  Made coming and going interesting, you better believe, but I’ve found that a fellow can get used to just about anything if he puts his mind to it.

 (-12- Blank)   You know, it seems like I should be able to tell this story better.  I been telling it for so many years now to so many people like you folks that you’d think I could stay on track for a spell.  Where was I now?

Oh, yeah.  That night, that strange, unbelievable night you were asking me about.  Well,it was cold, and Sarah and I were trying to sleep, when this big commotion came up at the stables next door.  I think it was the sound that woke me, but when I peeked out of the blankets, I realized, too, ( -13 - Archway at Night)  that there was a strange light coming in the window - a light like I’ve never seen before or since.  I know what firelight looks like, believe you me, and it wasn’t anything like that.  If I had to name it, I’d say it looked like, um, really bright moonlight, or like all the stars had come together right up over our house and were casting an eerie glow over all the neighborhood.

Well, I got up and stumbled over to the window and what did my eyes behold but a scene that looked like something from a dream.  (-14-  Overlooking the City)  There were people and animals all over the place out there - shepherds in their fur coats, flocks of sheep all packed into the street;  there were these three guys who obviously weren’t from around here dressed in all kinds of fancy clothes like they were kings or something;  (-15- Caravan at Night)  their camels were all tied up together and decked out in satins and furs - well, sir, you don’t see things like that around here very often.  (-16- Marketplace at Night)   And all this going on right next door, right in front of that dilapidated old stable.

Sarah asked what was going on and I had to say, I don’t know.  Seems like there’s a bunch of people out there who are lost.  (-17- Overlooking the City at Night)   Otherwise, why on earth would they be here in our part of town at this rundown excuse for a stable on such a god-awful night? 

(on iPod, angels singing “Each Night A Child Is Born”)

She was saying that I should forget about it and come back to bed when all of a sudden we both heard it at the same time - some kind of noise.  (-18- Bethlehem Evening) We stopped and listened, and it was kinda like the light - hard to describe, strange, mysterious, otherworldly even.  I thought right away it might be the wind blowing cold through the olive trees, but Sarah said later - and I agreed with her - it sounded like the voices of angels. 

Voices of angels or not, I was plenty cold by then and, truth be told, a little bit scared, too, so I got back into bed and snuggled down under the blankets.  I don’t know whether it was a dream or for real but I believe I heard those voices for the rest of the night.  And far from being scary, they began to sound as if they were announcing something joyous, something new, something amazing, announcing that something would be different from now on.

I woke up early the next morning, curious to see what was happening next door in the stable.  I put on my warmest clothes and went out, and lo and behold, all that I’d seen the night before was gone - no shepherds or sheep stood around in the street;  no camels or kings in all their finery - everybody was gone.  (-19- Man Leaving the Stable)  Nothing out there but this one man, loading up a donkey with a few things, and calling to his wife inside the stable that they had to get a move on.  As the man and his wife passed me going up the hill, I nodded to the man and he nodded back.  And I saw that she was carrying a baby - couldn’ta been more’n a few hours old.  Believe me, I’ve seen babies in my life and this was one of the newest of the newborns.  Pretty much your normal-looking family, if you ask me.  Don’t remember anything else about them - they just looked normal - oh, they were tired, alright, and as poor as they come, but they were just like every other family you’ve ever seen.

 

 (Turn off angels AND REWIND)

(-20- Gathering in the Square) 

The years went by.  Most of the old stable fell in on itself, and somebody tore down the rest of it.  They talked about building some more houses out there, but that never happened.  Before too long, people started to come by, wanting to know if I knew where the old stable had been, and - like you - wanting to know the story of that night, that strange, unbelievable night.  (-21- Visitor and Camels) Like I said, it’s next to impossible to find work if they know you’re from our end of town.  And so that got to be my job - I started telling the story.  And here I am today, still telling.

And how have things changed, you ask? (-22- Wailing Wall)  Well, there’s a lot more people come by these days, and not just more of ‘em but they seem somehow more hopeful, I guess. 

Oh, and I still hear those sounds, (-23- Bethlehem Afar) just like that night.  Whenever I listen real close, whenever I slow down and cock my ear to the heavens, I can hear the same voices, announcing something joyous, something new, something amazing.  (Angels again…)

And I guess that’s something else that’s different - I’m not as quick to dismiss things that I don’t understand.  (-24- Bethlehem Alleyway) I guess I’ve learned there’s just meant to be a little mystery in the world.  (-25- Shepherds and Lamb)  Now, I know you can’t believe everything you hear, but I believe that hearing those voices makes it easier for me to remember that there’s stuff I’m never going to understand.  (-26- Girls in School)   I believe it makes it easier to remember that there’s new stuff happening all the time if I just take the time to notice.  (-27- Girl in Town)  I believe it makes it easier to remember that there’s reason to be joyous no matter how bad it gets. 

(-28- Shepherd in Field)  Yeah, it’s strange, I know.  You may not be able to believe everything you hear, (-29- Palestinian Children)  but I was there, and you can believe me. (-30- Bedouin on Parade)

 

So may it be.