We say– “It’s the Christmas season, so…:  I will be nicer; I will let the other person have the parking spot; I will put some coins into the Salvation Army kettle.” And on it goes. For one month or so in the year, we are more conscious about thinking of others. And sometimes it is exhausting! We long for life to get back to normal.

But what if we let the practices of Christmas become our practices all year long?  The Christmas spirit of giving mirrors the grand Christmas story: to us a child is born, to us a son is given; for God so loved the world that he gave his son; Jesus emptying himself for us.  The practices of Christmas lived out all year long would change our portions of the world.

This story called “Christmas Morning, 1949″ is part of the National Story Project.  The Christmas practice shared in this story changed two families one Christmas morning. It changed the course of their lives.  Christmas practices can  change people all year long.  The season for giving and kindness lasts all year long. It is the way of Jesus. Merry Christmas!

“Christmas Morning, 1949″ (found at NPR National Story Project)

A light drizzle was falling as my sister Jill and I ran out of the Methodist Church, eager to get home and play with the presents that Santa had left for us and our baby sister, Sharon. Across the street from the church was a Pan American gas station where the Greyhound bus stopped. It was closed for Christmas, but I noticed a family standing outside the locked door, huddled under the narrow overhang in an attempt to keep dry. I wondered briefly why they were there but then forgot about them as I raced to keep up with Jill.

Once we got home, there was barely time to enjoy our presents. We had to go off to our grandparents’ house for our annual Christmas dinner. As we drove down the highway through town, I noticed that the family was still there, standing outside the closed gas station.

My father was driving very slowly down the highway. The closer we got to the turnoff for my grandparents’ house, the slower the car went. Suddenly, my father U-turned in the middle of the road and said, “I can’t stand it!”

“What?” asked my mother.

“It’s those people back there at the Pan Am, standing in the rain. They’ve got children. It’s Christmas. I can’t stand it.”

When my father pulled into the service station, I saw that there were five of them: the parents and three children — two girls and a small boy.

My father rolled down his window. “Merry Christmas,” he said.

“Howdy,” the man replied. He was very tall and had to stoop slightly to peer into the car.

Jill, Sharon, and I stared at the children, and they stared back at us.

“You waiting on the bus?” my father asked.

The man said that they were. They were going to Birmingham, where he had a brother and prospects of a job.

“Well, that bus isn’t going to come along for several hours, and you’re getting wet standing here. Winborn’s just a couple miles up the road. They’ve got a shed with a cover there, and some benches,” my father said. “Why don’t y’all get in the car and I’ll run you up there.”

The man thought about it for a moment, and then he beckoned to his family. They climbed into the car. They had no luggage, only the clothes they were wearing.

Once they settled in, my father looked back over his shoulder and asked the children if Santa had found them yet. Three glum faces mutely gave him his answer.

“Well, I didn’t think so,” my father said, winking at my mother, “because when I saw Santa this morning, he told me that he was having trouble finding y’all, and he asked me if he could leave your toys at my house. We’ll just go get them before I take you to the bus stop.”

All at once, the three children’s faces lit up, and they began to bounce around in the back seat, laughing and chattering.

When we got out of the car at our house, the three children ran through the front door and straight to the toys that were spread out under our Christmas tree. One of the girls spied Jill’s doll and immediately hugged it to her breast. I remember that the little boy grabbed Sharon’s ball. And the other girl picked up something of mine. All this happened a long time ago, but the memory of it remains clear. That was the Christmas when my sisters and I learned the joy of making others happy.

My mother noticed that the middle child was wearing a short-sleeved dress, so she gave the girl Jill’s only sweater to wear.

My father invited them to join us at our grandparents’ for Christmas dinner, but the parents refused. Even when we all tried to talk them into coming, they were firm in their decision.

Back in the car, on the way to Winborn, my father asked the man if he had money for bus fare.

His brother had sent tickets, the man said.

My father reached into his pocket and pulled out two dollars, which was all he had left until his next payday. He pressed the money into the man’s hand. The man tried to give it back, but my father insisted. “It’ll be late when you get to Birmingham, and these children will be hungry before then. Take it. I’ve been broke before, and I know what it’s like when you can’t feed your family.”

We left them there at the bus stop in Winborn. As we drove away, I watched out the window as long as I could, looking back at the little girl hugging her new doll.

– Sylvia Seymour Akin
Memphis, Tennessee

I love Christmas!  It is a season full of meaning and expectation. Christmas is about the big and grand story that God cares so much about this world that he created that he enters into this world in the person of Jesus in order to redeem it and transform it.  “The Word became flesh, entered into our neighborhood.”  The news doesn’t get any better than this.  We believe that the hopes and fears of all the years are met in Jesus Christ.

This is also a very frustrating season for me. When I was a pastor each Advent and Christmas season I had the opportunity of being able to tell this big story to people in the congregation where I served.  The season is crazy and full. Yes, but, the story of Christmas is overwhelming and joyous. I never got tired of telling the story.

But now, without a place to preach, I feel this story rising within me with few places to shout it out. I don’t know. Do I stand on a street corner?  Do I make random phone calls?  Do I blog about it? “For to us a child is born, to us a son is given.” Jesus is Emmanuel: God with us! It is the best story.

So, I get a bit grumpy when this season’s greeting gets neutered  down to Happy Holidays. The story is too big and too fantastic for such a meager phrase.

I know that Christians have not always had a great track record with those who are of other faiths or no faith. Sometimes, strangely, throughout history, Christians have wielded swords and clubs to deliver the message peace and love.  In the United States, what some  mistakenly term a Christian nation, the message of Jesus has been forced on others, and those of other faiths feel besieged.

I want to be sensitive to those of other faiths, to minority faiths. It is easy for a dominant religion to run roughshod over others. That simply is not acceptable. And still, I do not want to be so politically correct that this amazing season is emptied of its meaning.

So for me the greeting during this season  is Merry Christmas! To those who share my beliefs and to those who do not. Merry Christmas must never become a sword or a club with an “in your face” message. We must be understanding and gentle towards those around us.

But Merry Christmas can be, and for me is, a simple declaration, maybe even a blessing. Merry Christmas means: may the gifts of this season, whatever your own convictions, be rich and abundant in your life.  Without making people take sides; without having to make a militant stance, might we simply offer to others gifts of peace, of  hope, of  love.

“Happy Holidays” just doesn’t convey the big story. It depreciates the big story. “Merry Christmas,” offered with humility, can be a gifting to others recalling a deep and rich story of God’s goodness to us, and driving us to  be loving  and hospitable towards each other.

So–Merry Christmas to you!

He was born to an unwed teenage girl

Born in substandard housing

He was first greeted by some of the most marginalized people in his culture.

Under fear of death by a powerful politician, this boy and his family fled to another country and lived some time in exile.

The man who raised him was not his birth father

He spent his most significant adult years as a wandering teacher without a permanent home.

He was executed by a coalition of religious and secular leaders afraid of his revolutionary ideas.

This one, born homeless, has become the one who offers hope to the world.

As we get ready to celebrate Christmas, it is good to remember Jesus’ earthly beginning, and his self-emptying, servant stance. Jesus reached out to the marginalized throughout his life. Jesus cared for those who were aliens and marginalized following the grand tradition of the people of Israel who once were aliens themselves.

Jesus is Emmanuel: God with us. He is still God with us. He has stepped into our neighborhood and everything changes.

He stepped into the messiness of our lives–so as his followers, we must step into the messiness of our world.

Bono of U2 spoke at the National Prayer Breakfast in Washington a few years ago.  He called attention to the poor and the vulnerable in our world. In that talk before then President and Mrs. Bush, King Abdullah of Jordan, politicians  and religious leaders he said:

God is in the slums, in the cardboard boxes where the poor play house. God is in the silence of a mother who has infected her child with a virus that will end both their lives. God is in the cries heard under the rubble of war. God is in the debris of wasted opportunity and lives…, and God is with us– if we are with them

May the celebration of Jesus’ birth stir us to look beyond ourselves and towards others.

Merry Christmas!

Last week in my home town I met a homeless family: dad, mom and a little girl. They live in their van. Until recently the girl had been home-schooled, but now, through the work of an organization that serves the needs of the homeless, and works move people out of homelessness, the girl is in the public school system.

This family keeps to themselves. They want to live under the radar. They are uncomfortable around chronically homeless. They live in their van; the dad does free-lance work. They worry a lot about their daughter’s health.

This family lives in my home town, Simi Valley–an affluent suburb north of Los Angeles. This family represents the majority of the homeless in my community–people who have hit the wall of life, who have limited resources to get ahead. They are not substance abusers; they are not living off the system. They simply hit too many life bumps and made some poor choices along the way.

I am proud of a number of organizations in Simi Valley who work to care for people like this family. The Samaritan Center works to move people out of homeless, the Free Clinic of Sim Valley provides medical, dental, legal and counseling services to those who fall between the cracks.

The health of a community is not measured first or solely by good roads, a low crime rate, or fiscal soundness. The health of a community is measured first by its capacity and its will to be a place of hospitality and generosity. Simi Valley still has work to do, but it is well on its way. It is a community working to be generously hospitable, welcoming the stranger, giving without any desire or expectation for a return. I am proud to be a resident.

Monday, December 21st is the day with the longest night. It has been declared Homeless Memorial Day.  Remember the homeless family I met, and the scores of homeless people they represent. Together may organizations, faith communities, city governments work to reduce homelessness, to care for these people who live at the margins. May we commit to become “generously hospitable.”

MemDayPosterColor

Maybe this Christmas we will not get so caught up in the getting.Maybe this Christmas we will take new steps towards being hospitable and generous. Hospitality welcomes the stranger.  Generosity gives without any demand or care about a return. This Christmas we can rage against the consumption. Shopping Malls need not be our new cathedrals. “For unto us a child is born…”  This gift drives us to be different

Advent Conspiracy