Some things are inevitable. Last Wednesday, when I ran into Dick Burnett, the Rector of Trinity Episcopal Church, I knew exactly what to expect.

It was the week before Christmas, so — after the usual, friendly greetings — Dick asked the obligatory question: “Have you decided what you’re going to preach about on Christmas Eve?” Which left the predictable response to me: “I think I’ll try something bold this year and talk about the birth of Christ.”

You know, I read somewhere that 51% of people who attended Christmas Eve services in Protestant churches last year said they came to hear the sermon.

Now, putting aside my suspicion that 2% were relatives of the preachers and the other 49% were lying, you have to wonder what they expected to hear.

The life of Jesus has been called “the greatest story ever told,” and his birth is the most popular part. It’s all right here in the Bible, and you have a copy at home, I’m sure… so what can a preacher possibly add to make it worth getting dressed up and going out to church on a cold winter night?

You come for the music! I’m certain of it. But still, we have this idea in our heads that a worship service simply isn’t complete without a sermon… so I’ll do my best.

Sometimes I do get caught up in the anxiety of finding something new, or dramatic, or clever to say on this holy night; but then I remember the story of a Methodist Bishop who was rounding up his family to go to church on Christmas Eve. When they were all ready to get in the car, his youngest son said, “Now Dad, are you going to let us enjoy Christmas this year, or are you going to try to explain it to everybody?”

The wonderful, magical, blessed story of Christmas doesn’t need an elaborate explanation. It took place in a simpler time when two people — a couple known only as Joseph and Mary — were on their way to Bethlehem for the census.

In those days, without computers or sophisticated sampling techniques, the only way to count the clans was to bring each extended family together in one place — and Joseph’s place was Bethlehem.

Travel was painful for them — or at least for Mary, because her first child was due any day. So they moved along as fast as they could until they came to their destination.

Before they knew it, Mary and Joseph were parents. They had arrived in Bethlehem  just in time and — aside from a little problem with the reservation system at the Inn — everything worked out beautifully.

They weren’t alone. Besides all the descendents of David, shepherds from the nearby hillsides had come to Bethlehem — not for the government census, but responding to a “higher” calling… a message from God’s own angels.

Everyone had a role to play and a reason for being there. Mary and Joseph came for the census; the angels were sent by God; and the shepherds were there to share what the angels had told them. But where do we fit in to the Christmas story?

Three or four years ago, I read an article that sounded strangely familiar.

The source was identified as a California newspaper, but when I checked it out, I found that the editor had no idea where the story came from. It had been sent to one of his reporters in an e-mail from someone he didn’t know.

Now I was even more puzzled. Although I had lived in California for 23 years, I don’t think I ever saw that particular newspaper, let alone the reporter’s e-mail…  yet I knew the story. I just couldn’t figure out where I had read it.

Then one night I woke up around 2:00 in the morning and the answer was perfectly clear. It was obvious why I couldn’t remember the source: I had never read it. I heard it… from a friend, Marsha Fowler.

Now the Rev. Dr. Marsha Fowler is a fairly credible source. A Presbyterian minister with a string of degrees behind her name, including at least one, maybe two  PhDs, Marsha has taught ethics in at two major universities and a seminary, and she’s a registered nurse.

In the early ’90s, Marsha was part of a team of Americans invited to help develop medical ethics programs in post-Soviet Russia. On one of their trips, her team did some hands-on teaching in a variety of settings… and the anonymous newspaper article was, I believe, an account of one of their experiences in a Russian orphanage.

The editor who first printed the story said it “deserves to stand with ‘A Christmas Carol’ and the legend of the Little Drummer Boy” — and he may be right.

So I invite you now to that Russian orphanage, on a cold December day in 1994. It’s time for the little girls and boys to hear — for the very first time — the story of Christmas.

All the children are listening very intently. Some literally sit on the edges of their little stools, hoping to grasp every word.

Then they’re given three small pieces of cardboard to make a manger. And each child receives a small square, cut from a yellow napkin. We watch as they tear the paper into little strips and carefully place them in the manger to represent straw.

Little pieces of flannel become the baby’s blanket, and a doll-like figure is cut from pieces of tan felt.

Looking around the room, everything seems to be going well, until we notice little Misha’s table. Misha appears to be about 6 years old and he has already finished his project, which looks just right… until we notice not one, but two babies in the manger.

Calling quickly for a translator, we ask why his manger has two babies; and with arms crossed in front of him, the child begins to repeat the whole story very seriously.

For such a young boy, who has heard the Christmas story only one time, he relates every detail with surprising accuracy — right up to the part where Mary put the baby Jesus in the manger.

Then… Misha starts to imagine his own ending to the story: “And when Maria laid the baby in the manger,” he explains, “Jesus looked at me and asked if I had a place to stay.

“I told him I have no mamma and I have no papa, so I really don’t have any place to stay.

“Then Jesus told me I could stay with him. But I said I couldn’t, because I didn’t have a gift for him like everybody else.

“But I wanted to stay with Jesus so much, I thought about what I had that I could use for a gift. I thought maybe if I kept him warm, that would be a good gift.

“So I asked Jesus, ‘If I keep you warm, will that be a good enough gift?’ And Jesus told me, ‘Misha, if you keep me warm, that will be the best gift anybody ever gave me.’

“So I got into the manger, and then Jesus looked at me and he told me I could stay with him — for always.”

As little Misha tells his story, his eyes well up with tears that splash down his little cheeks.

The little orphan boy had found someone who would never abandon or abuse him — someone who would stay with him — for always.

Tomorrow morning, as your family gathers around the Christmas tree, I hope you’ll find lots of wonderful gifts. 

But I pray that you’ll find a place in your manger — and in the warmth of your heart — for Jesus, because he wants you to stay with him… for always.

Merry Christmas!

Amen.

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