SECOND SUNDAY OF CHRISTMAS
Prayer of the Day: O God our redeemer, you created light that we might live, and you illumine our world with your beloved Son. By your Spirit comfort us in all darkness, and turn us toward the light of Jesus Christ our Savior, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.
Holiday festivities have, to put it mildly, interfered with my reflections on the texts for this Sunday. That being the case, I am once again offering up a sermon/short story on the gospel lesson from Saint John. Though preached at a Christmas Eve service in 2015, it works as well for a regular Sunday in Christmas.
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Christmas at the Murry house wasn’t much like Christmas-at least not as far as Cletus was concerned. From the time he married Myrtle and moved into their small cape in Bogota, Christmas had been celebrated at his house. Cletus sat at the head of the table, Myrtle at his side flanked by his daughter and her family. The tree in the living room was a real one adorned with ornaments he and Myrtle had collected over their fifty plus years of marriage. Now Myrtle was gone two years. The house had been sold and Cletus had moved into assisted living in northern Bergen County. His daughter Gladys and her husband Phil convinced him to come down to spend Christmas at their place in Toms River this year.
Cletus didn’t much want to go. He had had a rough year-another heart attack, a couple more stents and his kidneys are starting to fail. As much as he loved his family, Cletus didn’t much care for the idea of riding in the car all the way down to Tom’s River just to spend the day in a strange house, sleep in a strange bed and have to find his way to the bathroom in the dark. He loved his son-in-law Phil for being a faithful husband to his daughter and a good father to his grandkids, but he didn’t like him very much. The two didn’t have much in common. For starters, Cletus was a Republican and Phil was a Democrat. Cletus loved to hunt and fish-back when he was still healthy enough for it. Phil was an animal rights advocate and no fan of guns. So while they tried keep their conversations neutral, there wasn’t much neutral territory to be had.
The Murrys always put up the same artificial tree full of ornaments they never bothered to take down and put away when the tree was carted back up to the attic on New Years. After years of use, the tree was looking decidedly shabby. Cletus didn’t like artificial Christmas trees no matter how real they looked. Phil insisted that real trees pose a serious fire hazard. One year Phil got on his high horse and told Cletus that he was not going to spend Christmas night with his wife and children at his house unless he took down his Douglas fir Christmas tree. It was a safety issue, he said. The safety of the children comes first. Cletus replied that the last thing he wanted was for anyone to feel unsafe under his roof. So he told Phil that he was more than welcome to spend the night out in the shed along with anyone who felt inclined to join him. But the tree would stay. Phil relented, but not before he told Cletus he was being a stubborn old fool and needlessly putting his family at risk. “I take your point, Phil” Cletus replied. “The shed’s ready when you are.” That was the end of that.
As I said, Cletus was not eager to spend Christmas at Phil’s house. But, on the other hand, Cletus knew, and his family knew-even though nobody ever mentioned it out loud in his presence-that this might very well be his last Christmas. And of course, where else would you spend your last Christmas but with your family? So, Cletus reluctantly agreed to come down to Toms River for Christmas. Now he was wishing he hadn’t. Except for the youngest girl, 17 year old Marla, the grandkids were pretty much all grown now. They came home from college with their girlfriends, roommates and pals. They weren’t much interested in playing Monopoly with him like they did when they were small. So Cletus sat alone in Phil’s uncomfortable chair in the living room watching the Yule Log burning up to the tune of smaltzy elevator Christmas music and feeling awkward and out of place. Every so often his daughter Gladys would come in and ask him, “Are you Ok, Daddy?” “Never better,” he replied. What else would you say?
To make matters worse, Marla was having a snit. The worst thing that can happen to a seventeen year old girl had happened to Marla. Her steady boyfriend of three years broke off with her. She and Stan had been like peanut butter and jelly since Marla was thirteen and he was fourteen. They were practically engaged-until Stan went away to college last fall, came home for Christmas break and didn’t call Marla. When she finally called him, Stan told her that he had met somebody at school and-well, maybe it was best if they didn’t see each other. So the day had been replete with doors slamming, angry tirades and tears. Nobody understood, nobody could understand Marla’s pain. Everyone was being so insensitive and inconsiderate-whistling Christmas Carols, laughing and joking about as though the most terrible thing in the world had not just happened. Cletus had been brought into the middle of this mayhem because Gladys could not bear the thought of poor daddy spending Christmas all alone. But Christmas all alone was starting to sound pretty good to Cletus.
Of course when it came time for the Christmas Eve candlelight service, Phil and Gladys urged Cletus to come with the rest of the family, but he guessed he’d just stay home and watch TV. Back in the old days, he never missed a Christmas Eve service. But he was younger then and besides, the service would not be in his old Church in Bogota, the one that smelled of pine needles and candlewax; that church with the rich, dark wooden pews and ancient stain glass windows. Gladys and Phil went to one of those churches built in the 70s or 80s. It looked more like an auditorium to Cletus than a church.
Marla also elected to stay home-but not before an angry, loud and animated exchange with her parents that ended with her slamming the door so hard it rattled the dishes in the china closet. Gladys coming downstairs in tears. Cletus saw the lights from the car backing out into the drive way and guessed that the family was on its way. He turned off the light in the living room, switched the station back to the Yule Log and began counting the minutes until he could go to bed.
It was just then that Marla came down the stairs, walked into the living room, picked up the remote and started switching the stations. She didn’t notice Cletus sitting in the darkness and Cletus didn’t say or do anything to make himself known. Marla finally gave up on the TV, shut it down and turned on the light. She was looking for something to read when she first spotted Cletus. “Sorry,” she snapped. “Didn’t see you there. Why didn’t you say something? I wouldn’t have changed the channel if I knew you were watching.”
“Oh,” said, Cletus, “guess I’ve seen enough of that log today.” There was a long, awkward silence after that.
“I don’t want to talk!” said Marla suddenly.
“Neither do I,” Cletus replied.
“I can’t believe how mean people can be. Stan and I-we were close. We could talk about stuff neither of us could ever talk about with anyone else. We were steady for three years. Three years! We’re apart three lousy months and I have to call him to find out that, hey, it’s over. I found somebody else. So don’t bug me.”
“And then there is everybody in this stinking house ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas-like I give a hoot. What’s happy about it? What have I got to celebrate? But Mom keeps telling me, ‘be cheerful, be happy, don’t spoil Christmas for us.’ Do I give flying fruitcake for anybody’s stinking Christmas? Do I care about some baby in a manger thousands of years ago? Do I want to sing all those stinking Christmas carols and make nice like nothing ever happened? Does anyone even know how I am feeling right now?
“For somebody who doesn’t want to talk, you sure got a lot to say,” said Cletus.
“Well,” said Marla, “I’ve had all I can stand of this stinking house, this stupid family and being treated like I don’t even matter. Nobody knows what I am going through right now. Not Mom, Dad, not my stupid brothers or you.”
“Are you through?” asked Cletus. “Cause now I have a few things to say. Fact is, I do know how you feel. I wasn’t born this old, you know. I was your age once and I got my heart broke a time or two. I know it hurts. But you know what hurts even worse? It’s finding someone you love enough to build a life with, raise a child with, struggle through a mortgage with. You grow so close that it’s hard to tell where one life ends and the other begins. And then one day you get a phone call telling you she’s gone. Died. Just like that from a massive stroke. No chance to say goodbye. And there you are left with a huge aching hole. That’s what hurts.
I’ll tell you something, kiddo. Life hurts and if you want to go on living, you better get used to it. Things aren’t supposed to get any easier and they don’t.”
“Sorry, Grandpa,” said Marla. “I didn’t mean….”
“You hush your mouth a minute longer,” snapped Cletus. I heard you out, now you hear me. I told you life doesn’t get any easier, but it does get better. That is, it can get better if you give it half a chance. Now the way I see it, you’re one lucky girl. That Stan of yours was a jack ass to treat you that way. Truth is, he was probably always a jack ass, but you were too head over heels in love with him to see it. Be thankful you finally did see him for what he was before you made the mistake of marrying him. Next time be smarter about who you love.”
“Easy for you to say,” said Marla.
“No, it’s not easy for me to say. Look, kid. You think it’s easy getting old? You think it’s easy not being able to do the little things that used to bring you joy-like hunting, fishing, working on the car out in the garage. Heck, I can’t even get dressed anymore without help. I didn’t want to come down here today. It would have been a whole lot easier just to hang out in my room and watch TV than ride all the way down here and back again. But taking the easy way might mean that I’d miss the last chance I have to see my grandkids all together again. Taking the easy way might mean losing my last opportunity to share Christmas with the ones I most love. So I took the hard way. I pulled myself together and came down here to enjoy my family. “
“And I’ll tell you something else while I’m at it. I am mighty tired of you mouthing off, slamming doors and moping around like a whipped puppy. Sure, you have had a rough ride. But that doesn’t give you the right to spoil everyone else’s Christmas. You better get over this notion that you are the only one in the world with feelings that matter. You’re not. And if you keep acting the way you are now, you are going to be alone for the rest of your life. Matter of fact, that’s probably why you’re alone now. Heck, if I were Stan I’d have dumped you a long time ago.”
As soon as those words left his mouth, Cletus knew he had gone too far. Marla burst into tears and ran upstairs into her room, slamming the door behind her. How could he have let this happen? He’d raised a daughter. He knew how fragile a young woman can be at a time like this. Cletus remembered all too well how Marla used to crawl up on his lap with a story book and he’d read it to her. Now he had gone and hurt her-deeply. Perhaps too deeply ever to heal their relationship. Without knowing quite what he would say, Cletus got up from his chair and walked to the stairs, steadying himself on the backs of the dining room chairs. Slowly, painfully, he began climbing the stairs. By the time he got to the top, he was gasping like a steam engine. His heart was pounding. “Marla,” he called through the door.
“Go away,” came a muffled voice through the door.
“Marla, I need your help,” Cletus continued. “I need you to drive me to church.” He listened. He waited. Finally, the knob turned and Marla opened the door. She looked at him. “I need you to drive me to church,” Cletus repeated. “Do you think you could do that for me?”
“I don’t have my license,” said Marla. “I’ve only got my permit and I’m not supposed to drive without an adult in the car.”
“Well, I’m 89. Guess that makes me an adult, doesn’t it?”
Marla helped Cletus down the stairs and into the car. They drove together in silence along Route 1 to the exit where the church was. The parking lot was full and so Marla let Cletus out in the front of the church. The congregation was on the last verse of “O Come, all Ye Faithful” as Cletus found himself a seat in the back pew. After parking the car, Marla came into the sanctuary and took a seat in the same pew-about a good yard away from Cletus.
Cletus listened with only half an ear to the sermon. He never did get much out of sermons, not even on Christmas. The preacher was talking about the Word made flesh. He had heard that all his life. What the heck did it mean anyway? The sermon ended and the congregation rose to sing another hymn. Then followed the creed, the sharing of the peace. Cletus turned to share the peace with Marla, but she had gravitated away from him. She was exchanging the greeting of peace with others and showed no inclination to do so with him. So Cletus sat down until she returned and resumed her seat-the same three feet away.
When it came time for communion, Cletus decided to stay in his seat. He’d forgotten his cane and doubted his ability to make it to the front of the sanctuary and back unassisted. When the usher came to their pew, motioning them to come forward, Marla got up and walked up the aisle without even a glance in Cletus’ direction. Cletus shook his head at the usher indicating that he planned to stay put. He watched as Marla proceed up the aisle to where the pastor and communion distributor were serving the bread and the wine. Marla returned by the side aisle turned into the pew and sat down next to Cletus-closer this time. She was carrying something in her hand. She looked directly at Cletus and said, “Grandpa, this is the Body of Christ given for you. In her hand she was cradling the host. His own hands were trembling and so Marla took them in her own. She opened his palm and gently placed the host in Cletus hand, and he took it in his mouth. Then she again took his hand in hers and they sat there, together.
Suddenly, it all became clear to Cletus. Of course, the Word of God had to become flesh. How else could God embrace God’s creatures? How could God comfort people of flesh and blood without becoming flesh and blood? As the lights dimmed, the candles held by each parishioner lit up one by one in the darkness, Cletus put his arm around his granddaughter and she rested her head against him. Flesh against flesh. The very Body of Christ. God and sinners reconciled.
And on that note, may the peace of God which passes all understanding keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus throughout this holy and joyous season. Amen.
Peter's Outer Cape Portico 