An Invitation
There is a Christmas party on the other side of town
with a lot of noisy music and a Santa who’s a clown.
But the kind of Christmas party that I’m having on this day
is a quiet one with candles and with carols softly played.
I’ll read the Christmas story and another one or two.
It’ll be a luscious party with spiced tea, mulled and brewed.
My pine tree softly twinkles through my window on the snow;
the firelight gently crackles; a north wind crisply blows.
Please join me in my party — there’s a soft chair just for you.
Let’s have a merry Christmas and start the year anew!
A Santa’s Sacrifice
“I’d like a dolly and a kitty and a bike with training wheels.
For my brother, a computer and a high-tech fishing reel.”
As the next child mounts his lap she says, “I want my own TV.”
And a hundred children more are in the line to tell their needs.
But the man in the red costume holds two other jobs besides:
he’s trying to earn money for a child who’ll likely die.
Insurance will not pay—they insist there is no cure.
But in this modern age, is there truly not a cure?!
“Santa, Santa, please bring to me
a magical cure for this winter disease.”
At crack of dawn, he’s off to work his other exhausting jobs;
just late at night he’s with her. When she sleeps, then he sobs.
The doctors and the lawyers take the money that he earns
as his candle quickly dwindles as both ends are being burned.
“A puzzle and a Teddy, and a ton of other loot,
with surprises and stuffed stockings and a fist of cash to boot!”
The man in the red costume looks into their parents’ eyes,
and he wonders if they care if a daughter’s soon to die.
“Santa, Santa, please! Oh, please!
Stop the sharp pain of this winter disease!”
The doctors and the lawyers and his late wife’s mother, too,
criticize the mourning man who wore that red costume.
His daughter died on Christmas Eve while he was at a store
acting as the jolly Santa so the shoppers would buy more.
But his daughter left a note, which he showed to no-one else.
In her dying last few moments she had a burst of health.
Though she passed away alone, alone she knew his love –
she knew he worked to save her, and she’s smiling now above.
“Santa, Daddy, your love I understand.
Love worked in you to save me–
Yes, your love now holds my hand.”
She wrote those words and passed away with her pen still in her hand.
Christmas Fire
If Christmas is Peace, then what’s all this stress!
Shopping and parties—the house is a mess!
I’m looking for peace; I’m watching the tree;
I’m listening to songs; I’m drinking hot tea.
I’ve stoked up the fire; I’ve got my shoes off;
I’ve come back from church. I sat in the loft.
The sermon was dull; the choir sang flat.
When everyone left, I silently sat …
… sat looking for peace
in what just transpired;
I sat uninspired.
I’m now by my fire.
Its glow falls upon an old manger scene
with wise men and shepherds and camels and sheep.
And she seems at peace, but that is a farce!
If all that was true, I would have spit darts!
Unless, unless, the look of the child
showed there’d be in him no future of guile?
To see what’s ahead and know there’s no sin,
and know that my child would never give in
would give peace to me. Yes, knowing his soul
was come from my womb would make me feel whole.
The peace in her face reflects from her boy
and glows with my fire. Could this be pure joy?
My fire’s now low and my bed calls my name,
but after this Christmas I’ll ne’er be the same.
The Christmas Bell
Who’s that shuffling towards the tower
with faded hope and joy that’s soured?
He reluctantly tugs the rope of the bell,
immediately triggering a miraculous spell:
his gray hair turns brown, his gaunt eyes grow bright,
as the rusty old bell rings in unbridled delight.
But he releases the rope for fear of his heart –
he dare not allow it to ever restart!
Yes, if this bell’s rung just once a year,
its tiding of gladness is something to fear.
The New Year
A new year is waiting for me and for you
to go out and do something thrilling and new.
Don’t pass up the chance – it seldom comes twice.
Seize the day and melt timorous ice.
An Old Soldier’s Christmas
The chill of Christmas was frozen upon the old and grizzled face
as he sat alone beneath a tree in a foreign, distant place.
Alas! Alas! ‘Twas not always so. He was once so debonaire;
he charmed the damsels and led their men – the Parisian Legionnaires.
The grandest battle was fought on sand with swords and muscle and verve;
he’d led his men into an ambush, but didn’t lose his nerve.
They rallied to him as foes let loose a fusillade from bows.
They dug in the sand and few were scathed by the flight of silent arrows.
He was first to charge as they reloaded, and he cut down two with one stroke;
his men took nerve and charged with him – his courage their own did stoke.
The routed the foes who were sorely surprised by bravery, doing and dare.
And they went on to win many a campaign, but to this one, none did compare.
The war now done, he was assigned to train Parisian recruits.
But the officer in charge did resent him – a warrior of repute.
That officer spent the war at home, and felt his command diminished.
So he made the warrior a paper-pusher to let him know he’s finished.
His last day was cold, and he merely walked out without ceremony
as the officer in charge spent Christmas abroad to avoid acrimony.
The old soldier sat neath Notre Dame in a Paris that’s no longer home;
the fallen leaves were blown by the wind and covered his doleful moan.
The Christmas bells rang loud and long, and his thoughts pondered the one
who was left long ago by his mates and loved one to die with the setting sun.
He envied him who died while young while people still would mourn;
but he sat there alone, unknown, bereft, with all his dignity shorn.
As the river slipped by, he prepared to die, but a hand touched his back.
‘Twas Juliette, who had once loved him, who was also at her last.
They talked and shared their miseries and slipped them down the Seine.
The Christmas bells now rang with joy – two dejected soles were saved.
The Christmas Story
(based upon the Holy Gospel according to Matthew, Luke & John)
There’s danger—danger—lying in the manger. The baby lying there will stoke up anger. When a crafty, cunning king learns of his birth, he’ll do his best to kill peace on earth. Peace on earth? Kill peace on earth? Yes, here is The Story of that ironic birth …
In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God. The Word shone forth and lit the deeps, but the darkness thought it odd. His advent in this world occurred in the province of Galilee. The angel Gabriel came from God, a virgin for to see.
“Hail thou daughter of David’s house engaged as Joseph’s bride! God’s favor rests upon thy brow. Fear not! Do not hide! The Lord’s with thee; you’re highly blessed among the women of earth. Hark! In thy womb thou shalt conceive and to a son give birth. He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the Most High, and he’ll ascend to David’s throne—his reign shall never die.”
Then Mary spoke unto the angel, “How shalt this come to be? I am a virgin, and no man has ever been with me.”
The angel answered unto her, “ The Holy Ghost shall come; the power of God shall be on thee, and thou shalt bear his son. His name is Jesus, Son of God—the holy born of thee.
“Behold! Thy cousin Elizabeth has a son, as well, conceived! She was barren—stricken with years, the brunt of harsh reproach—but nothing is impossible; with God, there’s always hope. Just as I speak to you right now, I spoke to her old spouse; but Zacharias questioned, full of doubt, for that I closed his mouth.
“What say you, thou virgin mild, to what I’ve asked of thee?” With that, Gabriel paused as heaven hushed to hear the maiden speak.
“Behold the handmaid of the Lord. Fulfill thy word in me.” With these words from Mary’s soul, Gabriel took his leave.
Inside her womb divinity grew, but to her fiancé, this was scandal! This was shame! She cannot be his mate! But this Joseph being a righteous man did not wish her disgraced; in his mind he sought a way to help to save her face. As he pondered on this thing, the angel of the Lord spoke to him inside a dream these mystifying words: “Joseph, thou son of David, fear not to take to thee this woman, Mary, as thy wife, for the son she has conceived is by the power of the Holy Ghost, so give this child the name of Jesus, for his people shall from all their sins be saved. This fulfills the prophet’s words that a virgin bears a son who’s called Emanuel, God with us. You see, in Mary, this is done.”
Awakening, Joseph did just as the angel had bid him. He thus took Mary as his wife, but knew her not until she had brought forth her firstborn son and gave to him the name of Jesus, Emanuel, Son of God, the one who’s come to save.
But before the birth, Mary desired to visit Elizabeth, to let her know of Gabriel’s words, yes, let her know forthwith. She made her way unto a city within Judah’s hills, the home of Zacharias would surely share her thrill. At the moment when Elizabeth heard Mary’s salutation, her own babe leapt inside her womb for Mary bore salvation. Elizabeth, filled with the Holy Ghost, spake out prophetic words—she spake them loudly so that hence they would on the earth be heard.
“Blessed art thou among all women and blessed is the fruit that grows within thy fertile womb! Oh! Blessed is the fruit! And blessed art thou who didst believe what the Lord did say to thee! For what the Lord has said to thee shalt surely come to be.”
And Mary said, “My deepest soul doth magnify the Lord. My spirit has joy in the saving God. How holy is his word! The Lord did see my low estate and made this high bequest. From this day forth all ages hence shall call me blessed, so blessed. Mighty is God’s holy name, his mercy’s on the weak; he removes the proud from their seats, enthroning, instead, the meek. He fills the hungry, empties the rich and helps Israel, his slaves; just as he promised Abraham, ‘twould be, amen, always.”
Let all people magnify the Lord
that to a virgin he spoke his word,
and that this Word shall soon be flesh
through whom nations shall be blessed.
How glorious! How wonderful!
That the Lord should visit earth!
How marvelous! How magnificent!
That a virgin should give him birth!
How wonderful! How glorious!
That the Almighty should come below
How magnificent! How marvelous!
All earth’s creatures, bow down low.
Mary did abide with her for round about three months, then left the hills for her own home to prepare to birth her son, but …
It came to pass, in those grand days, Augustus Ceasar’s decree that all the world should be taxed from Rome to Galilee. (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius ruled Syria.) So all went to their ancestral homes—Joseph to Judea. He left from Nazareth in Galilee, unto the City of David called Bethlehem, because his home was of the lineage of David.
The tax was not for men alone, thus Mary, though great with child, did make the journey to Bethlehem across the rocky miles.
How wonderful? How glorious?
Might there be a stillborn child?
How welcoming? How hospitable?
Jostling the Lord o’er gruesome miles.
And so it was, that while they were there, the birth of the child should come, and she brought him forth, her first born son, amongst the hay and dung. She wrapped him in strips of cloth and laid him in a trough inside a stable, behind an inn, where not a space could be bought.
How wonderful? How marvelous?
That the Lord should be born this way?
How hideous! How perfidious!
That no one would help that day.
But, there were in that region, unwashed shepherds abiding in the hills, keeping watch over their flocks by night lest their sheep by lions be killed (by lions, tigers or bears!) Meanwhile, the clean were in bed, snugly tucked in with sugarplum dreams dancing in their heads.
So, the angel and glory of the Lord appeared not to those sweetly asleep, but instead appeared to comfortless men bravely shepherding sheep.
As glory shone around about them, these strong men shuddered in fear, but the angel of the Lord then spoke good tidings of joy and cheer.
“Meek of the Earth, to you today is born in David’s city a man who will save you from your sins: Christ, the Lord, your King. And this shall be a sign for you: ye shall find the babe wrapped up tight. He’s lying near some donkey’s dung, exposed, as you, to the night.”
And suddenly there was with the angel above a whole host of angels in flight, singing, “Glory to God! and Peace and Goodwill to men on earth tonight!”
And it came to pass as the angels were gone back to heaven on high, that the shepherds agreed to leave their sheep and journey through the night to Bethlehem to see the thing which the Lord announced to them; and they went with haste to find the child who lay in back of some inn. They assiduously sought the virgin and child as Joseph kept watch alone in that poor place of dirt and drafts that was the Lord’s first earthen home.
What could that couple make of this all? God’s son being born in a stall? But into this gloom plain shepherds now come and to the ground they fall. They make known the things they’d seen and heard concerning this heavenly child; but Mary ponders it all in her heart—angels, shepherds, dung piles.
Eight days later at circumcision, the name the angel had given was given to him, the name Jesus, a name directly from heaven.
Sometime later in Jerusalem he was presented to the Lord, and two old saints—Simeon and Anna—confirmed the angel’s words. Simeon said, “This child is set for the fall and rise of many, and a sword shall pierce through thine own heart, yes, pierce thine own soul, Mary.”
And when Mary and Joseph performed the things required within God’s law, they returned to Nazareth in Galilee where Jesus’ spirit grew strong.
But, more contradictions were in store—danger and exile and blood—these three gifts awaited this child, but this was not yet understood. You see, when Jesus was born in Bethlehem, in Judea there was a king: an able, strong, but jealous king who, as yet, had heard not a thing. Until one day there came to him three wise men from the East saying, “Where is the king of the Jews? We’ve come to bow at his feet. We’ve seen his star and traveled far to worship at his feet.” When Herod the king heard these things he gathered all the priests, for Jerusalem and he were all disturbed, so he demanded the name of the place where the Christ, the savior, the promised one should be born and show his face.
They said unto him, “From Bethlehem, the least of all our towns, is where our prophets did predict the emergence of a crown.
Then Herod privily called the wisemen, diligently inquiring what time that star had first appeared—their news is so inspiring. He sent the three to Bethlehem to diligently search for the boy, and when he’s found, to bring him word, so he too can worship with joy.
The wise men listened and left the king, and, lo, the star appeared. As if a beacon, it pointed they way to where the child was being reared. Following his star, they quietly made their way towards that place, into the house where the couple and child lived simply on subtle grace. Seeing the child they fell to the ground in worship and humbleness; they opened their treasures unto him—myrrh, gold, and frankincense.
Warned by God in a dreadful dream, they returned not the way they came. They bypassed Harod and returned home wise to Herod’s scheme. And when they were gone, the angel of God appeared once more in a dream. He told to Joseph of what lies ahead—of Harod’s bloody scheme. “Arise and take your wife and her child and flee to Egypt now! And wait therein until I say, for Herod’s soon on the prowl. He’ll seek the death of the child. His eyes are filled with hate.” So, Joseph arose and departed right then, no matter that it was late.
King Herod fast saw that he was mocked by the three truly wise men, so his anger raged and he sent forth at once to slay Bethlehem. All the children two or less were sliced by the sword. Lamenting and mourning and crying let loose, and tears with blood outpoured.
In Egypt the family waited until the life of Herod was done. This thus fulfilled the prophecy that from Egypt the Son would come.
* * *
Such is the story of Jesus Christ’s birth and how a cruel king opposed peace on this earth, yet “Peace on earth and good will towards all!” still echoes above that yon cattle stall, and millions of sermons since then have been preached explaining precisely what it has to teach.
But, of the little I know of God’s mysteries, the import’s much deeper than any can see. So, by far the best thing for me, now, to do is stop and let lessons be drawn just by you.
A Woman’s Christmas Fire
If Christmas is Peace, then what’s all this stress! Shopping and parties—the house is a mess! I’m looking for peace; I’m watching the tree; I’m listening to songs; I’m drinking hot tea. I’ve stoked up the fire; I’ve got my shoes off; I’ve come back from church. I sat in the loft.
The sermon was dull; the choir sang flat. When everyone left, I silently sat … sat looking for peace in what just transpired; I sat uninspired. I’m now by my fire.
Its glow falls upon an old manger scene with wise men and shepherds and camels and sheep. And she seems at peace, but that is a farce! If all that was true, I would have spit darts!
Unless, unless, the look of the child showed there’d be in him no future of guile? To see what’s ahead and know there’s no sin, and know that my child would never give in would give peace to me. Yes, knowing his soul was come from my womb would make me feel whole.
The peace in her face reflects from her boy and glows with my fire. Could this be pure joy? My fire’s now low and my bed calls my name, but after this Christmas I’ll ne’er be the same.
Xmas
Another Christmas without Christmas
seems like a slogan where we complain
that Christ is left out—we’ve “Xed” out his name
—and all that we’re left with are parties and games.
But that’s not at all what I’m talking about
because I’m living here where there is a drought,
where Christianity is by law kept out,
which US policy supports with no doubts.
Another Christmas without Christmas
comes with an Arabian blessing,
a Chinese smile and Russian dressing,
and comfortable Christians blandly professing
that Christ does rule their hearts.