First Sunday after Christmas
Luke 2:22-40
Illustrations
"An Indian chief was disturbed about how lazy his braves had been
during the hunting season, so he called all the tribe together and
announced, "I've got good news and bad news. The bad news is that,
because you have been lazy and done little hunting this season, all we
have to eat all winter long is clay from the riverbank. The good news
is that there is an ample amount of clay to keep us going until next
year."
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A few years ago, at the Seattle Special Olympics, nine contestants, all
physically or mentally disabled, assembled at the starting line for the
100-yard dash. At the gun, they all started out, not exactly in a dash,
but with a relish to run the race to the finish and win. All, that is,
except one little boy who stumbled on the asphalt, tumbled over a
couple of times, and began to cry. The other eight heard the boy cry.
They slowed down and looked back. Then they all turned around and went
back......every one of them. One girl with Down's syndrome bent down
and kissed him and said, "This will make it better." Then all nine
linked arms and walked together to the finish line. Everyone in the
stadium stood, and the cheering went on for several minutes. People who
were there are still telling the story. Why?
Because deep down we know this one thing: What matters in this life is
more than winning for ourselves. What matters in this life is helping
others win, even if it means slowing down and changing our course.
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"A Negro died and went to heaven. He got together with other blacks and
they started comparing their life histories. Finally, they approach
God, and their spokesperson said, "Lord, you just don't realize how
tough it was down there!! I was born black. I was of a despised race!!
And God said, "I was once a Jew." The black went on, "Yes, but I was
persecuted. My daddy was innocent, but still the Klan hanged him." And
Jesus showed them his own nail-scarred hand. "You don't understand,
Lord!!" The black went on, "I never had a cent, no education, no home.
People laughed and scoffed at me. Why, when I was a baby, we had to
flee our house and move to another city for the safety of our lives."
And God smiled tenderly. He placed his big arm around the black man's
shoulder and said, "I know how it is my son. I have been there myself."
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When Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was past seventy he was asked by an
inquiring reporter for the secret of his continued youthful spirit and
vigor. Pointing to an old apple tree near-by, which was a mass of
blossoms, he said: "I try to be like that tree, I grow a little new
wood every year."
While it is true our human bodies must cease growing at a certain stage
of life, it is also true that our minds and spirits may continue to
improve even down to old age.
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A friend of the French composer Daniel Francois Auber once remarked to
him, "My friend, we're all getting older, aren't we?"
Auber sighed, "Well there's no help for it. Aging seems to be the only
available way to live a long time."
Auber was so determined to live a long time that he refused to think
about death, and whenever he was reminded of its approach he would say,
"I'll pay no attention to it."
But in his old age the composer began to accommodate himself to the
idea of his mortality. At a funeral service which he was compelled to
attend, Auber remarked to one of his fellow mourners, "I believe this
is the last time I'll take part as an amateur."
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This poem was written by an old woman living in a nursing home in
Ireland. It was found among her things when she died.
What do you see nurses, what do you see?
Are you thinking when you look at me?
A crabbit old woman, not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, with far away eyes,
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply
When you say in a loud voice- "I do wish you'd try."
And forever is losing a sock or a shoe.
Who unresisting or not, lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill.
Is that what you think, is that what you see?
Open your eyes, nurse, you're not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am, as I sit here so still,
As I use at your bidding, and eat at your will,
I'm a small child of ten, with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters who loved one another,
A young girl of 16, with wings on her feet,
Dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet.
A bride soon at 20, my heart give a leap.
Remembering the vows that I promised to keep.
At 25 now, I have young of my own,
Who need me to build a secure, happy home.
A women of 30, my young now grow so fast,
Bound to each other with ties that should last.
At 40, my young sons have grown and are gone,
But my man's beside me to see I don't mourn.
At 50 once more, babies play round my knee,
Again we know children, my loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead.
I look at the future and shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing young of their own,
And I think of the years and the love that I've known,
I'm and old women now and nature is cruel,
Tis her jest to make old age look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles, grace and vigor depart.
There is now a stone where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells,
And now and again, my battered heart swells,
I remember the joys and I remember the pain,
And I'm living and loving life over again,
I think of the years all too few- gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.
Open your eyes, nurse open and see.
Not an empty old women, look closer- see ME.
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Seen on a bumper sticker: "Old age is inevitable; growing up is
optional."
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The law of Moses stated that after giving birth to a boy, a woman was
ceremonially unclean for a period of forty days. She couldn't enter the
temple or participate in religious services, because blood had been
spilled in childbirth And blood was the essence of life.
So after her forty days were over, Mary presented herself for the Rite
of Purification. Again, the law of Moses asked every new mother to
bring an offering. But we notice that Mary didn't bring a lamb at all.
Instead, she brought an extra pigeon. In those days such a gift was
known as "the offering of the poor." Leviticus 12:8 makes it
clear&emdash;"If she (the mother) cannot afford a lamb. then she
shall take . . . two young pigeons . . . and the priest shall make
atonement for her.''
It's a striking fact and one we well might note. When the Word became
flesh and dwelt among us, his parents could only afford the offering of
the truly poor&emdash;a strong reminder that not arrogance but
humility should mark the Christian way.
For when the King of kings and Lord of lords was born, his first bed
was a cattle manger. His first visitors were common shepherds. And his
first appearance in church involved not pomp and presence, but two
small pigeons handed to a priest.
Many years later, Saint Paul would write, "Being found in human form he
humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross."
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"In Brooklyn, New York, Chush is a school that caters to learning
disabled children. Some children remain in Chush for their entire
school career, while others can be main-streamed into conventional
schools. At a Chush fund-raising dinner, the father of a Chush child
delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended.
After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he cried out,
"Where is the perfection in my son Shaya? Everything done in Heaven is
done with perfection. But my child cannot understand things as other
children do. My child cannot remember facts and figures as other
children do. Where is Heaven's perfection?
The audience was shocked by the question, pained by the father's
anguish and stilled by the piercing query.
"I believe," the father answered, "that when Heaven brings a child like
this into the world, the perfection that it seeks is in the way people
react to this child."
He then told the following story about his son Shaya:
One afternoon, Shaya and his father walked past a park where some boys
Shaya new were playing baseball. Shaya asked, "Do you think they will
let me play?" Shaya's father knew that his son was not at all athletic
and that most boys would not want him on their team. But Shaya's father
understood that if his son were chosen to play it would give him a
comfortable sense of belonging.
Shaya's father approached one of the boys in the field and asked if
Shaya could play. The boy looked around for guidance from his
team-mates. Getting none, he took matters into his own hands and said
"We are losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I
guess he can be on our team and well try to put him up to bat in the
ninth inning."
Shaya's father was ecstatic as Shaya smiled broadly. Shaya was told to
put on a glove and go out to play short center field. In the bottom of
the eight inning, Shaya's team scored a few runs but was still behind
by three.
In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shaya's team scored again and now
with two outs and the bases loaded with the potential winning run on
base.
Shaya was scheduled to be up. Would the team actually let Shaya bat at
this juncture and give away their chance to win the game?
Surprisingly, Shaya was given the bat. Everyone knew that it was all
but impossible because Shaya didn't even know how to hold the bat
properly, let alone hit with it. However as Shaya stepped up to the
plate, the pitcher moved a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shaya
should at least be able to make contact.
The first pitch came and Shaya swung clumsily and missed.
One of Shaya's team-mates came up to Shaya and together they held the
bat and faced the pitcher waiting for the next pitch. The pitcher again
took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly toward Shaya.
As the pitch came in, Shaya and his team-mate swung at the ball and
together they hit a slow ground ball to the pitcher.
The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could easily have thrown
the ball to the first baseman.
Shaya would have been out and that would have ended the game. Instead,
the pitcher took the ball and threw it on a high arc to right field,
far beyond reach of the first baseman.
Everyone started yelling, "Shaya, run to first. Run to first." Never in
his life had Shaya run to first. He scampered down the baseline
wide-eyed and startled. By the time he reached first base, the right
fielder had the ball.
He could have thrown the ball to the second base man who would tag out
Shaya, who was still running. But the right fielder understood what the
pitchers intentions were, so he threw the ball high and far over the
Third baseman's head.
Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to second." Shaya ran towards
second base as the runners ahead of him deliriously circled the bases
towards home.
As Shaya reached second base, the opposing short stop ran to him,
turned him in the direction of third base and shouted, "Run to third."
As Shaya rounded third, the boys from both teams ran behind him
screaming, "Shaya run home."
Shaya ran home, stepped on home plate and all 18 boys lifted him on
their shoulders and made him the hero, as he had just hit a "grand
slam" and won the game for his team.
"That day," said the father softly with tears now rolling down his
face, "those 18 boys reached their level of Heaven's perfection."(1)
(1) inspiration@yahoogroups.com