“You will find a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.” — Luke 2:12
We all know the story — Mary and Joseph traveled to Bethlehem and there wasn’t an available room for them to spend the night. The only place they could sleep was a barn. That night Mary had a baby, and they used a feeding trough as his bed. The baby was Jesus.
Little Baby Jesus.
The story of the arrival of Jesus into the world is filled with little incidents, little things, little tasks, little people, and little places. There is nothing grandiose in this story. The people are humble and powerless. The places are small and unimportant.
Although there were many wealthy and powerful men in Palestine at the time of the birth of Jesus, there were many scholars and teachers, and many religious people — none of them played a role in the greatest story ever told.
The angels did not appear to the religious people, instead they told simple shepherds that the baby had been born.
Noble, wealthy men did not see the stars and the light from Heaven, did not hear the angels say, “Fear not” but rather the shepherds did. God appeared to simpler, less powerful people.
The baby was not carried by a princess, or a fashionable woman, or a learned lady but by a simple, poor girl of Nazareth named Mary.
As Rev. Jack Hyles states,
“The Christmas story is built around little people who were in little places who did little tasks with little things.” — Rev. Jack Hyles
One of the aspects of the writing of the Bible that I appreciate is its ability to reflect human nature, and the interactions of people so well. I love the stories in the Bible where normal, simple, everyday people are the central characters. Who gave food to feed the five thousand? Not a restaurant who catered to the feeding of the multitudes, not the outstanding caterer of the day or the outstanding chef who had the best cuisine. It was a little boy with a lunch basket of five loaves and two fishes.
When Christ came into the world, He did not come to a hospital maternity ward. He did not come as a child in palatial surroundings, but He came in a manger, in swaddling clothes, in a stable, in a little town called Bethlehem.
Many of you know that my favorite Christmas song is The Little Drummer Boy. Inspired by a French song, “Patapan,” American composer and teacher Katherine Kennicott Davis wrote the song in 1941. Davis had been trying to take a nap, but kept hearing patapan, patapan in her head which took on a rhythm and became pa-rum pum pum. The result was a song about a little boy who was summoned to the nativity of Jesus. Without any gifts to offer, he played his drum with approval from Mary, the mother of Jesus.
Now, let’s just stop here a moment and consider the logic. Mary just got the baby to sleep and a little boy steps up to play a drum solo for him, and she’s fine with that??
The song was originally called the Carol of the Drum, and was recorded by the Austrian Trapp Family Singers — the group made popular in the story of The Sound of Music. Their recording released in 1951 brought the song to prominence.
When I was younger I liked the tune and the rhythm of the song. I liked the drumming part. As I grew older, I learned to appreciate the message of the song which is about a little boy giving what he can even if it’s a meager amount.
I think it is safe to say that at some point in our lives we have all been the little drummer boy. We show up at an event, empty-handed. We didn’t know we were supposed to bring something. We can either turn around and leave, or we can try to make do. The little drummer boy made do. He just happened to have his drum with him, so he decided to play it. BUT — He could play it because he was talented. He had a resource — he was a musician. He was lucky to have his drum with him — he had something to offer. And he was willing to offer it. Again, he could have turned around and left the stable — chosen NOT to share his resource, his talent. But he did.
And finally, he played well. “I played my best for him.Pa rum pum pum pum. The drummer boy didn’t just bang his drum a few times with some random hits. He played his best. The little drummer boy had integrity. He had standards. He wanted to do well.
The obvious message in this song is the lesson that many of us have been taught from a young age that giving is better than receiving. The little drummer boy didn’t have much, but he gave what he could. Certainly we can do that too. The boy didn’t give Jesus his drum; he gave him a song. In other words he shared his talents. We don’t always have to give material gifts. We can give of ourselves whether it be through sharing our talents, our time or our love.
But let’s also look at the reception of the gift of the song: everyone in that stable —in fact all living creatures in that stable accepted the gift — received it well. Mary nodded, the ox and lamb kept time, the baby smiled. It was nearly a standing ovation. Something all of us performers love!
Let’s emulate the response found in that stable as we receive gifts this Christmas: Let’s remember that every gift that is offered to us is just like this drummer’s song: a gift representing the best someone has — a gift of love. So let’s receive with smiles, nods of understanding and honest gratitude.
Jesus broke into the stillness of a small town and all of time to become a part of humanity. We pray today that Jesus will break into our lives now and redeem what we cannot fix.
A young teenager slipped into the Christmas Eve candlelight service a few minutes late. When the singing began tears fell down her cheeks. She felt like an imposter. She was sad and full of grief despite the cheerful celebration all around her. She whispered to Jesus: “I’m ruining your party.”
She felt him respond in a way that changed her forever. He told her: “I came to that manger as a baby not for those in celebration, but for those in mourning. I came for you. In this moment. Right here.”
My friends, Jesus came to pursue the broken and the hurting and the lost. Jesus was a common man, who hung out with common people with common problems and broken dreams.
God is with each one of us — in celebration or in despair. God comes to us where we have the greatest need. We are not alone in the struggles of our lives. God is with us in our everyday, messy lives.
God says to us “I love you. I don’t care that you messed it all up. I don’t care that you did that thing. I forgive you. Let’s get you back on your feet. I love you.”
From the moment that Jesus entered the world we all learned a new way to live: we learned that loving each other is better than any other way to be.
“Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love.” – Hamilton Wright Mabie
Amen.
This morning we talked about the role of little people, little things, little places that helped to tell and personify the meaning of the nativity and the gift of Jesus. And you might be thinking, what am I to do with this?
There’s nothing mystical or deeply profound that we need to do. We just need to embrace the love that Jesus teaches, as summed up by Mother Teresa:
“It is Christmas every time you let God love others through you…yes, it is Christmas every time you smile at your brother and offer him your hand.” — Mother Teresa
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