Immaculee Ilibagiza was a 22-year-old university student in the 1990s when terrible violence broke out in her home country of Rwanda. Hutus killed her parents, her brothers, and hundreds of her Tutsi friends. A Hutu pastor, who risked his life to save her, hid her and six other women. They lived in a small bathroom, a wooden wardrobe covering the door. For three months, they endured hunger, fear, and the sounds of soldiers in the house unsuccessfully searching for Tutsis.
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The story is told of Frederick William IV of Prussia who once visited a school and quizzed the students. He held up a stone and asked the children: to what kingdom does this belong? They responded: mineral. He then, pointed to a flower and asked: to what kingdom does this belong? They answered: plant. He then pointed to a bird flying by outside the window and asked: to what Kingdom does that belong? They replied: animal. Then he asked: now, to what kingdom do I belong. He had raised a profound theological question. To what kingdom do we belong?
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Let me tell you a true, but humorous and slightly scandalous story that comes out of the early days of the church. When the father of Origen, a third century theologian, was arrested for being a Christian, Origen, then only 17, was aflame with the desire to follow his Dad and share in glorious martyrdom. His mother pleaded with him not to go, but the headstrong boy did not want to listen to reason. His quick-thinking mother did what she could. She hid his clothes. Though Origen stormed and protested, she wouldn't reveal where they were hidden. He couldn't leave the house, and so he was unable to volunteer for martyrdom.
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We despise people who challenge our cherished myths and kick us out of our comfort zones. The truth is that when Jesus sets about the task of saving us, he has to heal us of any myth or prejudice that is contrary to the spirit of Christ. Billy Sunday was the Billy Graham of a previous generation. He was conducting a crusade in a particular city. In one of his sermons he said something critical of the labour conditions for workers in that area. After the service, several prominent businessmen sent a message to him by one of the local pastors. The message was this---Billy, leave labour matters alone. Concentrate on getting people saved. Stay away from political issues. You're rubbing the fur the wrong way." Billy Sunday sent this message back to them: "If I'm rubbing the fur the wrong way, tell the cats to turn around."
Do you remember the story of Pandora's Box in Greek Mythology? The lovely Pandora was sent by Zeus to be the bride of Epimetheus. One of Pandora's more endearing charms was her curiosity, but that quality also proved to nearly be her undoing. One day Mercury, the messenger, sent a box to the young couple. It was meant for them to enjoy, but under no circumstances were they to open it. Well, of course, it is the old story of the forbidden fruit. Told that she could not do it, it became the thing that she desired to do the most. So, one day she pried it open and peeked inside. Suddenly out flew swarms of insects that began attacking them. Both lovers were stung with the poison of suspicion, hatred, fear and malice. Now the once happy couple began to argue. Epimetheus became bitter and Pandora wept with a broken heart. But during the quarrelling, they heard a tiny voice cry out: Let me out, to sooth your pain. Fearfully they opened the box again, and this time a beautiful butterfly flew out. It touched the couple and miraculously their pain was healed, and they were happy again. The butterfly we are told was hope. It is hope that sustains us; it is hope that sooths our pain.
What about the underlying meaning? What did this strange first miracle signify? In a departure from custom, John fails to interpret for us the miraculous "sign," which for him almost always means a symbol, a kind of acted parable. Some commentators see in it a preview of the last Supper, when Jesus transforms not water into wind but wine into blood, his blood shed for all humanity. Maybe. But, I think not.
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French writer Henri Barbusse (1874-1935) tells of a conversation overheard in a trench full of wounded men during the First World War. One of the men, who knew he only had minutes to live says to one of the other man, "Listen, Dominic, you've led a very bad life. Everywhere you are wanted by the police. But there are no convictions against me. My name is clear, so, here, take my wallet, take my papers, my identity, take my good name, my life and quickly, hand me your papers that I may carry all your crimes away with me in death."
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Do you remember Louis Cassels' famous parable of the birds? It was Christmas Eve and the man's wife and children were getting ready to go to church. He wasn't going. "I simply can't understand what Christmas is all about, this claim that God became man," he told his wife.
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Some gifts you can give this Christmas are beyond monetary value: Mend a quarrel, dismiss suspicion, tell someone, "I love you." Give something away anonymously. Forgive someone who has treated you wrong. Turn away wrath with a soft answer. Visit someone in a nursing home. Apologize if you were wrong. Be especially kind to someone with whom you work. Give as God gave to you in Christ, without obligation, or announcement, or reservation, or hypocrisy.
One of my all-time favourite Christmas hymns is "O Little Town of Bethlehem." It has been around since 1868 although it wasn't formally used in churches until 1892. It is a hymn which is packed with emotion, a song about the Christ Child, born to Mary, a song filled with the creative power of God intervening in history with the gift of a saviour.
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Blessed are they who find Christmas in the age-old story of a babe born in Bethlehem. To them a little child will always mean hope and promise to a troubled world.
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There is a story of a man who had been a closet slob most of his life. He just couldn't comprehend the logic of neatness. Why make up a bed if you're going to sleep in it again tonight? Why put the lid on the toothpaste tube if you're going to take it off again in the morning? He admitted to being compulsive about being messy.
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Maybe you've heard the story of the little boy who decided to write a letter to God one Christmas. He started out by writing: "Dear God, I've been a really good boy this year." Unfortunately, he remembered that God was all knowing and all seeing and he decided that he couldn't lie to God. So, he crumpled up that letter and started over. This time he wrote: "Dear God, I know I haven't done everything I should have, but I really tried to be good." He stopped and crumpled up that letter, too. It was obvious that he was struggling with what to write to God.
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The story is told of a very wealthy man who had never been known for his generosity to the church. The church was involved in a big financial program and they resolved to pay him a visit. When the committee met with the man one afternoon, they said that in view of his considerable resources they were sure that he would like to make a substantial contribution to this program.
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In the days of the circuit riders a minister was out riding one afternoon and came upon a man out working in his field.
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Two psychiatrists were talking and one asked the other, "What was your most difficult case?"
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The moment you mention this word, Christians see all kinds of different meanings. Most notably since the 1950’s, the mention of Stewardship means, to put it crudely, “give us money”. It is a great pity that the word has been diminished in this way. It is a word that is rich in meaning and has great application in this modern world. Part of my life is working on various building sites (long story!). The one thing that concerns me is the way that we are creating high density housing in a country that is rich and beautiful and above all BIG. To see the demolition of homes and the creation of two new homes on the same block is the “norm” and recently, i.e. yesterday I was on a site where instead of two there were three being built. The surrounding homes were still there – back yards, front yards, lawns, gardens and space. The new homes – there is little point in having windows as there is no view anyway, except the fence, and in some cases, it is so narrow you cannot get a wheelbarrow in between the two homes. I have often, laughing, commented that it is possible to pass the shampoo from open house to the other whilst showering. Whilst it makes me smile, it also makes me sad. We are being bad stewards of our property and the land that God has given to us to care for. (Genesis 1:28). There is an element of greed that has created this anomaly – for local government – they see a doubling of rate income on the same property, for the owner- they see the possibility of two sales instead of one for the same land area, for the builders – it is two houses to build and the list goes on. But do we stop to count the cost and reflect on what we are doing to our environment. The diminishing of the ground that provides space to enjoy, the diminishing of garden, lawn – the living plants that filter our air, that cool our homes and areas in the hot summer, that give places for bees to pollinate and for the world to heal our surroundings. All is wiped away in the supply of homes that are not homes but houses, that have no garden or trees to replenish our world, that have no natural light causing us to be a prisoner to supplements to get our Vitamin D- it is a sad event. I had thought that it was a modern phenomenon until I was reminded of our early history in South Australia. The English novelist, Anthony Trollope (one of my favourites), visited South Australia in the 1870’s. It was he who made comment that Adelaide was a “city of churches”. However, what did take his attention was those who were taking up land for farming. He noticed that their farming practices were poor. What he took issue with, was that they were not manuring the land, or rotating cops, and “he knows nothing of the word fallow”, he makes no attempt to give back to the land, “anything in return from what he takes from it and consequently the land deteriorates from day to day. Unless he mends his ways, soon the land which he now ploughs will cease to give him the plenty he desires”. This was the 1870’s and we have not learnt nor heeded the message. If anything, we have become even worse stewards of the world that God has entrusted to us to care for and delight in. Let us reflect on what a rich word that stewardship is, let us reflect on how we are as stewards.
Everybody wants to be somebody. Since the dawn of history, human beings have been trying to move up the scale of importance. The clincher used by the serpent to tempt Adam and Eve was "when you eat of [the tree of good and evil], your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil" (Gen. 3:5). Henri Nouwen says that ever since then, we have been tempted to replace love with power. "The long painful history of the church is the history of people ever and again tempted to choose power over love, control over the cross, being a leader over being led." This is a theme running through the Bible, through human history and through our own psyche.
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The French have a story about a millionaire in his palace who spent his days counting his gold. Beside the palace was a poor cobbler who spent his days singing as he repaired people's shoes. The joyful singing irritated the rich man. One day he decided to give some gold coins to the cobbler. At first the cobbler was overjoyed, and he took the coins and hid them. But then he would be worried and go back to check if the coins were still there. Then he would be worried in case someone had seen him, and he would move the coins and hide them in another place. During all this, he ceased to sing. Then one day he realized that he had ceased to sing because of the gold coins. He took them back to the rich man and said, "take back your coins and give me back my songs."
