I didn't go to my 13 year old
daughter's Christmas choir concert this week, but did go to my 10
year old son's. Why one and not the other? For my daughter, Sarah,
the concert meant little more than the inconvenience of dressing up
and being away from her reading. Sarah has a good choir teacher, but
choir's pretty much forced upon her, so she's never been too
motivated. She, like many of her classmates, does what's required
without becoming too invested.
It happened that I had an important
meeting at the same time as her concert. Now, if she would have
wanted me at her concert, I wouldn't have missed it; but since she
didn't want to be there herself, she preferred to inconvenience as
few people as possible. So, I didn't go. My wife, Nancy, did go and
reported that “it was nice”—and that's about it.
My son, James, though, is in the class
for Special Needs children. Besides joining with the others in
singing, he had to memorize a joke and a line for his role as a deer.
He had been ready for a couple of weeks. Without saying to each other
why, we all knew we had to be there to witness it. So, mom and dad,
both sets of grandparents, and big sister were all present in the
auditorium.
Accompanied by aides, therapists, and
teachers, 18 children came out on stage: four by way of wheels, one
by way of a walker, and 13 by foot—though each with his or her
distinctive gait. Some had feathers, others had masks or tree parts,
and my son proudly wore antlers. Most all had big grins.
The kids stood there across the stage
for a couple of moments until everything was set for them to begin.
James made such an effort to stand up straight, chest out, with a
beaming smile. He looked around in the sparse audience (maybe 60 in a
room that holds 400), spotted us, stuck his arm straight out and
enthusiastically waved his hand, saying, “Hi Dad!” That alone was
worth my coming. He then saw his sister who had gotten out of her
class to attend and said to a friend, “That's my sister!”
Before it started, I also had time to
wonder about each child's issues. The wheelchair-bound had obvious
special needs. One Down Syndrome girl did not seem to be very aware
and required an aide's constant assistance. Whether it was unkempt
hair, odd body angles, or extra movement, most were clearly
recognizable as “different.” A couple, though, looked like kids
in any regular class, leaving me guessing as to what their issues
were.
As I thought about it later, lined up
there, they reminded me, strangely I grant, of a police lineup. Of
course, none of them had committed any crimes, though some might say
they stood there as victims of an unjust world. And one could see no
shame-filled eyes, guilty looks, or hardened expressions--only joyous
eyes, tender hearts and innocence. My heart was aching before it even
began.
And they began with jokes! Silly kids,
don't they know that some people would say that the world has played
a cruel joke on them? And yet they told jokes . . . they told jokes .
. . with the help of some loving adults. The speech therapist, a
kind-hearted young woman, held the microphone up to each
one—occasionally giving them a little prompting. Several of the
kids, not having the vocal ability, told their jokes by using speech
devices. They say there's great skill in telling and timing the punch
line just right; I think it's more about heart, and all the laughing
friends and family confirmed that.
James was so excited to hear the
laughter from his punchline, that he kept repeating it over and
over—even later in the program when he was supposed to be a talking
deer, wanting all of us to know what you call a cow at the North
Pole: an Eskimoo!
Shortly after that, James tired out and
lost his focus, so his aide led him to us, where he went from lap to
lap watching his class sing a bunch of Christmas carols. Yes, there
was “canned music” giving them background support. Yes, not many
were on key. Yes, not all knew the lyrics. Yes, a couple of the kids'
singing was much like moaning. And yet, their singing was
unsurpassed! Unsurpassed, that is, if one judges the value of singing
by its ability to communicate warmth, love, and joy. Is there any
other standard more important?
18 kids with issues, with special
needs, who not long ago would have been commonly referred to as
retarded. 18 kids we often pity. 18 kids we sometimes thank our lucky
stars that we're not like them or have them as our own. There's no
need to pity them. On that stage, they shone. They loved and felt
loved. They blessed and were blessed. They felt significant and were
significant. They joined together to join us all together in getting
to the heart of the Christmas Story.
What does it mean for God to come among
us as a Child? How is “God with us”?
As I mentioned earlier, to appreciate
to the meaning of Jesus' coming, we must get inside the skin of the
typical 1st Century Israelite. The people of Israel were
not enjoying widespread peace and contentment. They were not bored or
complacent. No, their heads were pinned under the boots of Roman
soldiers, foreigners oppressing God's people in what was supposed to
be their Promised Land. Israel was so far removed from it's glory
days—and how they wanted them back. How they wanted a Messiah to
rise up and lead them in revolt, to send the tax-collectors and
sell-outs packing.
In the Christmas Story itself, hatred,
pain, and humiliation are ever-present—though not always obvious.
Mary and Joseph were traveling at such a difficult time because of a
census, the main purpose of which was to extract more money for pagan
Rome. And in today's text, we get a prime example of the
well-documented cruelty of King Herod as he kills off all the young
boys in a village in search of the One he deemed a threat.
The truth is that Jesus came into a
world full of injustice and violence. The truth is that the people of
Israel had been yearning for a Messiah for years. One of their
prophets had cried out, “O, that you would tear the heavens and
come down!” While the prophet didn't say it, the people would have
added, “that you would come down and exact vengeance on all the
pagans and foreigners!”
God would come to answer the call for
help, but would come in a way that would surprise everyone. He would
not come in anger. He would not come in all his strength. He would
come in weakness . . . as a baby, in vulnerability, in complete
dependance upon his earthly parents.
Yes, he would come to overthrow Herod's
kingdom and every other kingdom set up through injustice, violence,
and hate. Yes, as Scot McKnight puts it, “the Messiah Jesus was
destined to rule above and beyond Herod the Great. Not as a result of
violence; not as a result of
usurping the throne through military victory ... but through a
kingdom of a completely
different order: through compassion, through love, through
self-denial, through the cross, through the power of
the resurrection, and through a community that would surround and
follow Jesus.”
Let's go back to the Christmas program
with the special needs kids. How did that program communicate the
truth of Christmas? First, let's consider the kids as representatives
of all of us, for do we not all have issues and special needs? We are
just better able to hide them from others—and also to hurt others.
Next then, let's consider the presence
of God. Where did God show up in subtle and unexpected ways? Remember
the aid who had her arms around the girl with Down Syndrome? Remember
the speech therapist holding the microphone and whispering into ears?
Did you remember the other aides who pushed wheelchairs, wiped drool,
and kept everyone in line? And though I didn't mention it, you know
there was a director of the program just off stage, don't you?
18 kids with issues, serious issues,
could not have pulled off that life-affirming, life-giving program
alone. But God's love came to them, incarnated, in-fleshed through
those compassionate adults. They comforted, coached, held,
encouraged, and delighted in those kids, enabling them to bless,
seriously bless, those in the audience.
Truly, on that stage, there were
obvious reminders that this world is not just, that this world is not
the way it's supposed to be. And even more truly, there were
reminders that salvation cannot come by vengeance, force, or brute
power; it only comes through love willing to suffer for others. And
so God came among us as a baby, and taught, and healed, and loved,
and suffered, and was raised from the dead: New Creation. The light
shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
"Blessed are the poor in
spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
for they
will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and
thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful,
for
they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart,
for
they will see God.”
Matthew 5:3-8
