Joseph

As I exited the burn unit at Barnes Hospital, I carried a very upset little guy who’d just had his face scrubbed of dead tissue to prevent scarring and to promote healing. Tears ceased, but soaked his shirt. I, too, was extremely frustrated after 4 hours, 3 waiting with paperwork and 1 of care. As I negotiated the maze of hallways to the parking garage, the two of us attracted numerous glances, for he was a black child carried by a white male. Approaching the tunnel to the garage, we were intercepted by an angel, a tiny hospital volunteer, all 4 feet 8 inches of her with more than 80 years of living experience.

“Now, now, who do we have here?” Our African American heavenly asked. She reached up and brushed away a few of the toddler’s remaining tears.

“This is Josh, my foster son,” I replied breaking a smile and ready to be in my car headed home.

She gently reached up pinching my shirt collar choking me, inviting my eyes down to her eye level. “He is your son and you call him son. You are his father … and don’t you ever forget that!” Her voice pleasant, full of compassion filled me. She released my shirt and smoothed a bit of the suave on Josh’s face. “Now the two of you have a good day.” She blessed us with a smile. I needed to hear her words. They have traveled within me since that day. Were there tougher days ahead? You bet!

While Mary was busy pondering, what was Joseph doing?

BAH! HUMBUG!

By Fred Vilbig

Maybe Ebenezer Scrooge had it right. Maybe we should listen to the Grinch … that is, before that pesky, silly Cindy Lu Who messed things up. If you look at it objectively, Christmas is one big exercise in self-absorption. “Buy me this!” “Get Me that!” And now we don’t even call it Christmas. I was recently in CostCo, and they were selling “Winter Holiday” gift baskets. No Christ in that Christmas!

The stories of Scrooge and the Grinch do seem to reach a satisfactory conclusion. Scrooge realized that being generous and charitable made him feel good about himself. The Grinch realizes that the Whos’ Christmas is about people caring for one another. Still, these strike me as an ultimately empty, self-serving accomplishment too. If our Winter Holiday is just an excuse to feel good about ourselves, then “Bah! Humbug!”

But in reality, Christmas is so much more than that.

Take this and drink....

Me:  Lord, it's me.
Jesus:  I'm here.
Me:  I had a question.
Jesus:  Ask away.
Me:  You know how the bread and wine become your body and blood during the consecration?
Jesus:  Yes.
Me:  Well, I just take the body, and I always skip drinking from the chalice.  Is that ok?
Jesus:  What do you think?
Me:  Well, I know that you are fully present in both forms, so I'm getting all of you either way.
Jesus:  True.
Me:  But then I ask myself, if you only wanted me to take the bread, you wouldn't have gone through the whole explanation of "this is my blood".  If you made such point to do both, why do I only participate in one?
Jesus:  I see your point.
Me:  The truth of the matter is, and I'm just being honest here, it seems kind of gross to me.  All of those people drinking from the same cup, all of the germs.  I mean, I know they wipe the rim down, but you can't tell me I'm not catching someone else's backwash.
Jesus:  I understand. 
Me:  Well, I guess that when I think about it, it feels a little selfish.  I mean there you are, up on that crucifix dying for me and I'm too much of a wimp to share a cup.  I feel like I'm not fully participating.
Jesus:  I see.
Me:  I think about you serving the lepars, or Veronica pressing her shroud against your wounds.  Now that I think about it, there are a lot of dirty jobs I tried to avoid in my life.  I never wanted to change a diaper, that's for sure.
Jesus:  But you did.
Me:  Yeah, I did.
Jesus:  Why?
Me:  Because I loved my daughter more than I hated what I thought was gross.
Jesus:  That makes sense.
Me:  And to be honest, I don't know if I'd have such a close bond with the people I love, if I didn't roll up my sleeves and do the tough stuff.  Putting aside my personal comfort to show them that I would do anything for them.  Cutting Dad's toenails when he was on hospice was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.
Jesus:  I remember that.  It was beautiful.  You know who else saw you do that?
Me:  Who?
Jesus:  Your son.  You see, I care less about your physical habits and more about the intentions of your heart.  Whether you receive my body on your tongue, or in your hand, whether you take the cup and drink my blood or not, what matters to me is that you set aside your will for me.  When you told me years ago that you would put your own "self-made" plans aside and follow me, I asked you to leave all of your worldly comforts behind.  I'm asking you to do that again, each time you take me into your being, in the miracle of the Eucharist.  Do you understand what I'm asking of you?
Me:  I think so.
Jesus:  Amen.