josephholubsermons
December 24, 2011 - Christmas Eve
Luke 2:1-20
“She gave birth to her firstborn son and
wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger for there was no
room for them in the inn.”
Luke 2:7
It was Christmas Eve, 2005 in Aurora, Colorado.
The last service ended a little after 11:00 PM.
Marcia and I were leaving the church a few
minutes after midnight.
As we were walking out, the scene dimly lit
only by an exit sign above the door, we felt something
rush past our legs and
run very fast into the building, down the hallway and into
the darkness.
We looked at each other in puzzlement and
mutually exclaimed,
“What was that?”
We headed back down the dark hallway to
see what creature might have run into the building.
My mind went instantly for the
dramatic thinking a
skunk, or a squirrel, or a raccoon – all of which were animals
we had recently seen around the church.
A
sense of dread washed over me as I envisioned Marcia and me
trying to extricate a wild animal from the church premises in the wee
hours of Christmas morning.
However, my misplaced fears were soon
calmed when we discovered
it was a young tabby cat.
Surprisingly, the cat was not afraid or
aggressive at all.
In fact, Marcia picked it up, and it
cuddled close and purred intensely.
Marcia’s compassion and affection for animals is
contagious, and within seconds we were wrestling with the question,
“So now what do we do?”
Since the cat looked healthy, well groomed
and was so friendly, we concluded it was not a feral cat, but was either
a neighborhood cat on the prowl who happened to be by the door as we
were leaving, or maybe somebody had dumped it, and it was orphaned.
We did not know.
It had no identification collar.
We still were confronted with the question,
“So now what do we do?”
After consideration, we decided to
put the cat back outside.
There was no snow, and it was very mild.
We thought if it was a neighborhood cat, it
would likely go home.
We decided to
come back at daylight
to
see if it was still hanging around the church, and if so, then go to
“Plan B” which, at
that moment, did not exist!
As we drove away from the church, I had an
intuitive sense that this story was not over.
We did not sleep very well, thinking about that
cat, and we did
come back just after daybreak early Christmas morning.
Actually,
we were on our way to our home in Buena Vista in central Colorado where
we planned to spend a few days of R & R.
We pulled into the church parking lot, got
out the car, and as we looked around, the
cat emerged out of the
shrubbery. And
once again we were faced with the question,
“So
now what do we do?”
Time
for Plan B.
“Plan B” was quickly formulated.
The cat was going with us to the mountains.
But we had no cat stuff – you know, like litter
box and food.
It was Christmas morning and not like many
stores were open.
“So
now what do we do?”,
we
asked ourselves once again.
Luckily, the Walgreens down the street
from church was open, and they had the needed cat paraphernalia.
So, we and the cat were soon on our way.
The cat was
very hungry and he
ravenously gobbled down some food and then, for the first part of our
drive, he insisted on sitting up on the dashboard.
I have never seen a cat do that.
And on the last part of the drive, he slept
soundly on the back seat.
To summarize,
we had a delightful week with our new little friend at our mountain
home.
He took to us and our home like he had
always been there. He made us laugh.
He
almost wore us out with play, and he would sit wide-eyed on the window
sills chattering at the deer and wild turkeys that came by outside.
Marcia gave him the name
“Jingles” since
he was our
Christmas gift cat.
The end of the week arrived, and it was time to go
back to Aurora.
The same
incessant question
resurfaced,
“So
now what do we do?”
Do
we put signs up around the neighborhood that we have found a cat?
Do we take him to the local humane
organization?
Do we try to find him a home?
Do we keep him and adopt him?
“So now what do we do”
You see,
“Jingles” had made his
way into our hearts. Having previously had cats for thirty years, we
found ourselves with a growing attachment, and we did not know exactly
what to do.
It was a
quandary.
We decided to
think about it.
After arriving back at our Aurora
townhouse, I drove down to the church office that afternoon.
As
I came down the street toward the church, it was then I saw it-a
huge sign
fastened to the power pole near the corner.
The sign had a large picture of
“Jingles” on it, and
above the picture was written the written in huge black letters,
“Greatly Missed!”
At
the bottom was a number to call.
“So
now what do we do!”
Well, I knew what we
had to do of
course-call that number.
Jingles’ real name was
“Winky.”
He was about nine months old and belonged
to an 8 year old girl who lived several miles from the church.
He was an indoor cat that accidently got
out, wandered away and got lost.
By Christmas Eve, when he came to us,
“Winky” had been missing for several days.
It was a very emotional reunion and goodbye
for both the real owners and for us.
The little girl was thrilled and we were
happy, of course, that he was reunited with his rightful home.
But even so, we were a little sad to say
goodbye as he was a special unexpected
gift
of life and joy we had received
early on that Christmas morning that will always make Christmas of 2005
memorable.
I
have thought a lot
about that Christmas cat episode, and it has
come to mean even more
to me with the passing of time.
You
see, I think that the
question we found ourselves repeatedly asking that Christmas
week is essentially
the
existential Christmas question:
“So now what do we do?”
Tonight we gather
around the manger of Jesus.
He is the
unexpected gift of
Christmas to each and every one of us that has
come to the door of
your life and mine.
As we depart this evening, the question lingers in the air
like the echo of a distant Christmas carol,
“So now what do we do?”
Do we set him aside
only to drag him out next year like he was a special tie or shirt or
dress that we wear but once a year on Christmas, and
until then hangs in
the back of our dark closets–out of sight/out of mind?
So now what do we do?
It is a question
we
will
answer whether we
intend to or not in some way, shape or form.
For you see, even
indifference is
an answer.
We could have completely ignored the cat or
never come back to
check on him. “Sorry
kitty, no room in the inn.”
We
have that power to declare that there is
no room in the inn of
our hearts for Jesus.
Or we can risk
opening the door and welcoming him in and
see where it leads.
And
of course, that is just what he ends up doing –
leading.
The baby in the manger grew to be a man.
Those early disciples experienced
Jesus as the
power of divine love
taking shape in a human life, and he issued the invitation to
courageously follow him into the depths of that love-which means to
walk his road and
live his life in the
world.
As we follow him, he
expands our level of
consciousness as we become more deeply and more fully human.
And I am sure that those to whom the
challenge to “follow” was first directed probably wrestled with the same
question I have posed this evening,
“So now what do we do?”
I
imagine they especially asked
it when he challenged them to follow him into radical expressions
of love like they had never considered before.
When he led them into an
inclusive love for
those that religion had declared as outcasts, rejects and unclean, I am
sure they grappled
with the question, “So
now what do we do?”
When he invited them to acknowledge the dignity
and humanity of those who were culturally, ethnically, religious or in
some way different from them-those they had been taught to fear and
hate, I am sure they wrestled
mightily with the question,
“So now what do we do?”
When he taught them that the self-giving life
was the fullest kind of life of all, I am sure they
struggled with the
question,
“So now what do we do?”
When he demonstrated by his actions that
compassion even trumped
the most sacred and holy religious law, I am sure they
agonized with
question,
“So now what do we do?”
When he showed that love for the poor, last and
least meant speaking truth to power and challenging systemically
fostered economic disparity, I am sure they
fearfully asked,
“So now what do we do?”
When he acknowledged even the basic humanity of their
enemies by challenging them to pray for their enemies and those who
persecuted them, and to turn the other cheek, I am sure there were those
who thought he had lost his mind and gone way over the top.
Christmas is about looking into the face of love that comes to us in the gift of the life of Jesus. So now what do we do? For me, it is the ultimate Christmas question. Answering it with our lives is the continuation of the Christmas story; for finally what Jesus is about is leading us into a fuller humanity characterized by astounding expressions of love that can take root in and the shape of our lives as we follow him. So now what do we do? What do you do? What do I do? What will we do?