These Days

 “But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man. Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left. Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.  (Matthew 24:36-44)

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I would like to tell you a story.  It’s from a book called A Single Light, by Maia Wojciechowska.  The story takes place in Spain, but it could be anywhere.  There was a small village that had once been important but no longer was; it had once been prosperous but no longer was.  A young man in this village went off to the city to find his fortune.  He didn’t find a fortune, but he did find a wife - Maria, whom he loved very much – and he brought her home to the village. 

Soon she was pregnant, a joyful thing, and gave birth to a child – a girl.  Maria loved her child and thought her perfect.  She would say, “Look how she never cries!  Only angels never cry.  My child must be an angel.”

Within a few months everyone in the village knew what Maria couldn’t see – that the child was deaf and dumb.  She would never hear and she would never make a sound.  No one told Maria, though, because ever since the birth she had not been well.  It had taken such a toll on her body; she was in fact dying.

Before she died, she held her baby in her arms tightly.  Perhaps there was a part of her that knew the truth.  She kissed the baby and said, “You are a child of God, and God will take care of you all your life.”

After Maria’s death, her husband turned inward in his grief.  He had no love for his daughter; to him she seemed like a curse.  There was no kindness shown her from the village either, because she frightened them.  Although she couldn’t hear, she had eyes that seemed to penetrate their souls. She seemed unnatural and they shunned her.  Only one neighbor, Flora, was willing to take this helpless infant and feed her and care for her. 

When the girl became old enough, Flora put her in charge of caring for her newborn.  Flora’s baby was born weak and sickly; he was pale and seemed to not grow.  But Flora was poor, like most everyone else in the village, and she had to work.  She took the bus to the city every day to work at the canning factory.  Flora needed help her with the baby.  And she could see what no one else in the village could see – that the deaf girl could be trusted with the baby. She would love and care for the infant as if her were her own.

And so she did.  The girl was the perfect caregiver for this baby.  She knew the child’s needs before he even cried out.  She was completely devoted to the baby. 

One day the baby was even more listless than usual.  The girl sensed something was wrong from the moment she lifted the baby out of his crib.  But she held him, she tried to feed him, she did all that could be done.  By the evening the baby’s heart stopped beating.  The baby grew cold and yet the girl would not put him down.  She tried to warm him with her own body heat.  She couldn’t accept that this child was dead.

Flora didn’t blame her, but the rest of the village did, and now she was more of an outcast than ever before.  She was the focal point for all their fears and resentments, and they had so many of those.  She found refuge in the village church, where she was given bed and board and work to do.

One day while she was scrubbing the floor in the sanctuary, behind the altar, she hit a loose board in the wall.  It fell away and she noticed something hidden in there.  It was a marble statue of an infant.  She pulled it out and held it; it was about the same size as the baby boy she had cared for.  In some way, this stone baby became a comfort to the girl and she returned to it every day. She instinctively knew to keep it hidden.  It was the one solace in her life – someone she could love.

At the same time, there was a man named Larry who was an expert on art. Actually he was only an expert on one artist – an Italian sculptor named Angellini.  Larry had devoted his life to the work of Angellini, and actually, to tell the truth, he had devoted his life to one work by this one artist.  Angellini had created a marble sculpture of the holy family, which was on display at the Vatican.  It was beautiful, but the child was missing from the statue.  It had been stolen many years before and never been found.  From the moment he encountered this statue, Larry committed himself to finding the missing child.

He had researched and searched for years and years.  His research had led him to the conclusion that it had probably been taken to Spain.  And so Larry spent his days traveling around Spain, visiting every church in every village, in search of the missing marble child.

After many years, his travels took him to this village.  He walked into the sanctuary, tired before he even began, and looked around at all the second rate statuary in this poor country church.  The familiar sense of disappointment arose.  The girl was in the sanctuary going about her usual chores, ignoring him.  While he looked around, she went behind the altar and pulled out her baby from the hiding place.  This was the bright spot of her days – to hold her baby, to play with him.  Some days she would bring him little gifts – things they could play with together, or something for him to wear.  As she sat down with the baby this day, the rest of the world faded away for her; she was alone with the child in a world of bliss. 

She pulled out a little mirror she had brought him.  When you held the mirror up at different angles, you could make lovely colorful prisms on the wall. 

Larry was about to leave the church when he saw a dancing colorful light out of the corner of his eye.  He followed the light behind the altar and there he saw the girl playing with the marble child.  She didn’t see him, so she had no idea he was there.  Soon she put the baby back into his hiding place and went off.

Larry’s hands trembled as he moved in and took the baby out.  He knew it was the marble statue he had spent his life looking for.

At that point – all of the things you would fear – all these things happened.  Larry was exhilarated!  Looking for someone to share in his excitement, he went to the village bar and told all the men gathered there about his great search and his wonderful find.  Everyone immediately starting fantasizing about how this village would once more be important, how it would once more be prosperous, thanks to the finding of this famous statue.  This morning they had been ignorant of Angellini and his famous statue.  This afternoon, all kinds of plans were being made for it and the bright future it promised for them.

They quickly arranged to have a glass case made so the statue could be displayed safely in the church and they made a procession of all the important people as they carried it in and set it on the altar.

The next day as the girl went about her chores she approached the glass case and was stunned by what she saw – her precious baby imprisoned in a box.  Without thinking she crashed her hand through the glass and reached in.  Without feeling the pain, she pulled out the marble statue and held it to her body.  She ran from the church, and kept on running. 

The following morning as they prepared for mass the broken case was discovered. Unbelievable; the child had once again been stolen.  The dream of becoming wealthy and famous was only two days old, but now that dream was crushed and they were angry.  All the anger that had built up in them over the years was now exploding.  All their resentment was boiling over.  They didn’t know from whom or how but they wanted revenge.

When it was discovered the girl was missing too, a search party went out.  They didn’t even really know what their intentions were; they were driven by one motivation: rage.

On their way, the old and the weak were trampled; a shepherd boy escaped within an inch of his life, and at least one man was struck down dead.

While the mob was wreaking havoc all over the land, the priest and Larry set out together to find the girl, hoping and praying they would find her before the mob did.  For the first time, the priest could see that this girl was a gift that had been given to them – a gift they had been blind to.  For the first time, Larry could see that his obsession with the statue had alienated him from life, from the possibility of love.  They found the girl, with the marble baby.  Yet the question remains: from this day on, how will the village be ruled – by hate or by love?

The gospels tell us how we will encounter the Christ – in a variety of different ways.  But the one thing that is consistent is that it will be unexpected.  Sometimes we hear these texts as speaking to us about the end of the world – and it’s true that they are.  But it’s also true that they speak to us where we are today.  In these days – the days of our working and shopping and watching television, and going to the basketball game; in the days of our doctor appointments and our visiting with friends, our committee meetings and our worshiping – how will we meet the Christ?

The Christ does not come to us as a stone figure or a concept or a doctrine.  The Christ comes to us as living, breathing humanity – just as he always did.  How will we meet him?

The crowds met him with hate.  But I know we can do better than that.