Isn’t it ironic? Here we are, dressed in our finest, worshipping in one of the most beautiful churches in Sarasota, or anywhere for that matter. We will leave here in our comfortable automobiles and return to our comfortable homes. Today brings the traditional gift giving and feasting. For this is the day for which we have been preparing for at least a month.
It’s the picture of what brings us here that is so ironic: a baby born almost twenty centuries ago in a stable, whose crib was a receptacle for livestock fodder. His mother was a poor peasant girl married to a carpenter, and the birth announcement, according to St. Luke, was made only to some poor shepherds watching their flocks by night.
It is truly ironic, but altogether reasonable, for we know that baby is the Savior of the world. And what is more astounding, we know him personally, for through the Holy Spirit he has entered our lives at baptism, and we continue to receive him anew every time we receive communion.
The One of whom I speak is the risen Christ, for we would not be here celebrating Christmas if it were not for Easter. And that experience of the risen Christ through baptism and the Holy Eucharist is what we all have in common, and all of us have our own stories to tell concerning how the Savior has touched our lives.
Christmas is a favorite time for telling stories about how Jesus comes again and again into the lives of his people. Some of those stories are actual occurrences, while others are fanciful; but all speak of the transforming love of God, whose love is so great that he sent his only Son to be our Savior.
One such fanciful story is by Agatha Christie. Most of us know Agatha Christie for her mystery stories, but you may be surprised to learn that she also wrote several religious stories. This one is about a woman by the name of Mrs. Hargreaves.
Mrs. Hargreaves didn’t like people. She tried to like them, because she was a woman of high principle and a religious woman, and she knew very well that one ought to love one’s fellow creatures. But she didn’t find it easy, and sometimes she found it downright impossible.
All she could do was, you might say, go through the motions. She gave money to worthy causes, and sat on various charitable committees. She was willing to be just, kind, fair, and charitable to people, so long as she did not have to see, hear, or touch them.
One day her maid sat sobbing in her kitchen, telling Mrs. Hargreaves about how her pretty daughter had gotten herself into trouble. It had ended in the daughter becoming very sick. She was in the hospital, and very likely would die. Mrs. Hargreaves said all of the right things, offered to help, but none of the words rang true. She was only going through the motions, for she didn’t like people. It was all pretense.
That same day she had several encounters with people she didn’t know—at the butcher’s shop and on the bus home. It was so disagreeable to her that she felt a sudden urge to get away from it all. So she decided to take a ride on a steamer, known to the English as a water bus. It didn’t matter where it was going—she just had to get away from people.
When Mrs. Hargreaves got on the boat she chose a place away from most everyone else. She went to the bow of the boat, where there was only one other traveler. After a while she paid attention to this man, who looked like an Oriental. He had on a beautiful coat which seemed to be woven all in one piece. She had a sudden impulse to touch the coat, which she did.
She could never recapture afterwards the feeling that the touch of the coat brought to her, but in some miraculous way, she had been changed. She thought once again of her maid’s story about her daughter, and she felt truly concerned and compassionate. She thought again about the disagreeable encounters with people she had that day in the butcher’s store, and she found herself feeling affection for these people, rather than distaste. At least for this brief time she was at one with her fellow human beings. She really liked people! She almost loved them!
Mrs. Hargreaves thought of the coat woven in the harmony of one piece. She had not been able to see the man’s face, but she thought she knew who he was.
The end of the story shifts back to two of the crewmen, who are talking. The mate of the water bus was staring at the tickets in his hand. “Where’s the other one?” he asked?
“What do you mean?” said the captain, who was preparing to go ashore for lunch.
“Must be someone on board still. Eight passengers there was. I counted them. And I’ve only got seven tickets here.”
“Nobody left on board. Look for yourself. One of them must have got off without your noticing him—either that or he walked on the water!”
And the captain laughed heartily at his own joke.
Mrs. Hargreaves had an encounter with the Savior of the world and it changed her. That is why you and I are here today. You may not have thought that, in so many words. But ultimately, that’s what every person wants deep down. We want fellowship with God. We want to be in the presence of Jesus. We want to touch him and be touched by him. We know that is what the true Christmas spirit is, the love of God shed abroad in our hearts, overflowing into all of our relationships. May God bless you this Christmastide and every day of your lives by his loving presence, that that love may be born again in you, as the risen Christ, born in Bethlehem 2000 years ago, touches your life.