Merry Christmas to you and yours from my perch atop the mighty skyscraper known as the Graden Mercantile Building in downtown Durango, Colorado. Yes, I am at the very top, in Suite 213A, pounding out a few thoughts as we close 2011. (Note: We are a two story skyscraper – being at an altitude of 6,500 feet, we need not play ostentatious with our architectural projections inasmuch as we are already scraping the sky by merely walking around).
I have no big theme upon which to build that requires of the reader an expenditure of effort to track my nubile thoughts; no, rather, I will dispense with a few odds and ends, Herb Caen style.
Let’s start with that one. Who was Herb Caen? He was one of my favorite columnists I read while attending graduate school in San Francisco. After dreary lectures on Greek and Hebrew syntax, supra verses infra lapsarianism, sacerdotalism, philosophical axioms, hermeneutics, teaching pedagogies, etc. – I would retreat to the library and get my chuckles from the free copy of the San Francisco Chronicle. His column was a series of one paragraph insights of gossip, local happenings, political punditry and regional anecdotes. It was never hostile or ill-willed but always brilliant. When he passed away in 1997, his funeral was the best attended in San Francisco history.
So, here we go…No man enjoys Christmas shopping. My father-in-law, O.D. may have set the bar so high that no mortal man will ever reach his stature. It seems that his wife, Betty, was heading into town a couple of days ago to pick up my wife, Jan, to do a little Christmas shopping. As Betty was leaving, O.D. grabbed his coat in what appeared to be an uncharacteristic eagerness to join in the shopping venture. As they got in the car, O.D. said, “Why don’t you drop me off at the E.R. while you and Jan run your errands.” It seems that my father-in-law was manifesting the symptoms of a heart attack. A few hours later, with two new stints in his heart, he has become an iconic figure for all men to emulate. “O.D. – We are not worthy! We are not worthy…”
We plan to spend a little more time at the hospital this Christmas season. My lovely daughter, Molly, timing the event of her first child with that of the Blessed Virgin, is due any moment with she and husband Erick’s first child. Every time my phone rings I jump a bit thinking that the moment has arrived. Molly herself is a Christmas baby. Our oldest son was born December 27th. Our anniversary is on the 29th. Please send money…
My daughter can now join that large sorority of “sistas” whose compassion and empathy for men’s whiny complaints effectively registers at the non-pulse state. From now on, her trump card shall always be: “Yes, yes…that looks painful…but I had a baby.” As a good friend of mine noted, he could walk into the house with a screw-driver hanging from his eye and the response would be: “Yep, I bet that smarts…but I had a baby.”
Thus, it was with cool, unfeeling precision that my wife – who, by the way, had three babies – ordered me up a “procedure” that will take place over the holidays. While everyone else is gorging and feasting, I will be downing a lemony drink that will make me all shiny on the inside – from top to “literal” bottom. Nothing says “I love you” like a colonoscopy. She put the Merry in my Christmas. I guess I ain’t been “nuttin’ but bad.” Think of me – actually, scratch that…don’t - as I begin my lonely vigil. I will be reading A Tale(!) of Two Cities which begins with the famous line, “It was the best of times; it was the worst of times…” Indeed.
On the other hand, what a fantastic way to begin my New Year’s resolutions – which always has something to do with losing weight. This should help.
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Years ago I was the head counselor at a small Christian camp. During evening devotions, I asked one of the high school leaders to read something from the Bible to wind down our evening. He chose a passage from the Book of Psalms, which he pronounced, “Palms.” He asked everyone to turn to the book of Palms. It still makes me smile. He was the original Palm reader. Perhaps we could gin up a little business in this downtown office if we hung out a sign that said, “Psalms read here! Get your free Psalm reading!” Who knows?
Anyway, back to the original sentiment…Merry Christmas! A little over two thousand years ago a few blue-collar workers attending the night shift, pulling sheep-duty, were treated to a heavenly host of angels busting out the praise of the newborn King. According to Scripture, that number could have reflected a number as high as 100 million angels. I am not really sure who was more surprised, the angels or the shepherds. If I was an angel, I probably would have expected to show up to some famous earth location and sing for a King or an Emperor. At the very least – the angels could have expected to be booked for a concert at the temple in Jerusalem. Instead, they were directed to a lonely field where a few good old boys were passing around the wine-skin on a quiet evening.
The great Oxford scholar, Alfred Edersheim, tells us that these particular shepherds, because of their geographical location, were most likely watching the sheep meant to be sold as ritual sacrificial lambs to folks who travelled to Jerusalem and didn’t own a pick-up to transport a homegrown animal. In other words, these were not just any sheep. They were sacrificial lambs. He goes on to note that although the sheep were considered holy, for ceremonial purposes, the shepherds themselves were considered unclean and thus banned from the religious life of the Jewish people. So, who gets the good news first??? I am not lying here – God is a class act.
Last Sunday our little Celtic band played the praise of the King at the Irish Embassy Pub for the third straight year as we put on, once again, A Celtic Christmas. The fragrance and majesty of that first Christmas sorted itself out through our instruments and voices to the modern day shepherds - to those who, for good reasons or not, have found themselves on the outskirts of religion…who don’t quite fit in …who, might feel unclean in the presence of our modern portrayal of Christianity. To you dear hearts I say: “Fear not…for I bring to you good news today which shall be for all people. For unto you is born this day, in the city of David, a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.”