Ears to Hear

Christmas Eve Stories • Sermon • Submitted 4 months ago • Presented a year ago

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HE LOVED night time. Not that he didn’t like the day, but night seemed to afford more chances to walk about. It was also a time when many people opened their hearts to listen. “In the still of the night,” as the old saying goes. So tonight he was walking. Walking on cold sidewalks. Walking through a city that seemed just as awake at night time as it was when the sun shone. He could understand how this city earned its nickname, fte City that Never Sleeps. New York City wasn’t his favorite place — he didn’t know if he had a fa- vorite city — but this was where he was tonight all the same. Walking past the stores, walking amongst towering buildings that touched the sky. Tonight he was walking but he was also listening. Now you and I, if we walked through New York, we’d listen to the city sounds: car horns, sirens, conversations of people on the street. But not this walker. Not this night. Sure, he heard all those things you and I hear, but to- night he was listening to hearts. Because not only are people more open with their hearts at night time, this night of all nights causes hearts to open more than any other night of the year.

O Holy Night

It was Christmas Eve. Our walker wasn’t bothered by the cold. He was not even bundled up like the others who passed him on the street. In fact some cast quick glances his way as he passed, noticing his lack of winter coat, hat, and gloves. Shaking their heads, they continued on. After all, they had places to go tonight. And if truth be told, they’d seen stranger things in this city.

As his shoes crunched through the snow he listened to those around him. He heard their joy. He smiled at their laughter and nodded upon hearing their well-wishing. “Happy Holidays!” said some. Most exchanged a hearty, “Merry Christ- mas!” paired with handshakes, hugs, and even fist bumps. Yes, it was a great night to be in New York City. But he was not here just for the holiday cheer. He walked these streets with a purpose, though for you and I to guess that purpose would be challenging. He didn’t walk with the same hurried gait as others. He would pause outside a store, but never seemed interested in the shiny merchandise inside. Instead he’d pause and seem more intent on listening than on what he was seeing. ften he’d continue walking. He heard the bell before he saw its ringer. As he rounded the corner he could see a red bucket hanging from an iron hook. He smiled at the small fig- ure moving the bell up and down, bundled up with coat, mittens, scarf, and a hat complete with a puff ball on top. He stopped again, not to watch the child or even to listen to the bell. He stopped because several other children were standing around that red bucket. A lady in front of the children snapped her fingers to get their attention. As the woman raised her hands, he closed his eyes and listened, and the song drifted through the air.

Silent Night

As he continued his journey, the sound of the bell faded into the night. He admired the lights of the city; New York was never at a loss for nighttime lights, but on this night extra lights twinkled, sparkled, and blinked, lighting up the streets and buildings. ftey cast a colorful glow on the snow as well: reds and greens, blues and yellows. His pace slowed as he approached a church. He found himself stopping outside its door. People were going in and he wished he could join them, but not tonight. He had another task to attend to. But before he could start off on his walk again his ears, which were always listening, perked up as he heard the choir inside begin to sing.

O Little Town of Bethlehem

He looked up at the stars peeking through an opening in the clouds and smiled as he saw a particularly bright one. It was the smile of someone re- minded of a fond memory, and joy sparkled in his eyes as he held the memory a moment. ften clouds covered the stars again and he turned down another street. If you and I had been watching this nighttime walker, we might have

thought him lost. He walked down one street then turned down another and sometimes backtracked to where he’d previously been. But to watch his de- meanor and mannerisms, he didn’t act like someone who was lost. In fact, it was as though he was looking for something. He stopped in front of a giant store window and admired the dolls and toys inside. He saw a toy train circling its track. ften he noticed an open music box and with his ever-listening ears he was able to hear the song. A familiar tune chimed from the beautifully carved music box, so he stopped to listen, seemingly unaware of a shadowy figure that had been following him through the streets. Snow began falling gently. fte snowflakes glimmered from the glow of the neon toy store sign and the Christmas lights hanging from the street lamps. He listened to the music box’s tune as the figure who was following him stopped, slipping into the shadows to watch and wait.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Our walker appeared to be looking in the store window at all the toys. In reality he was looking at the reflective surface of the glass which revealed the city street behind him. With a nod of satisfaction he began his journey again. fte figure slipped out of the shadows and continued following him. After a while our walker did something he had not done at all this night; he turned down an alley between two buildings. Now I’m not sure about the condition or safety of alleys where you live, but in New York City most people try to avoid alleys at night. It’s just safer that way. But our listening walker was apparently not interested in nor concerned about safety. fte second figure also slipped down the alley and quickened its pace to catch up. “Don’t move!” said a gruff voice from the shadowy figure. “Hello,” the walker said, turning around slowly. He did not look at the gun pointed directly at him, but instead focused on the young man who held it. fte young man’s eyes darted this way and that. fte hand holding the gun shook slightly. “Give me your wallet! Hurry up!” “I will give you everything in my wallet. But only on one condition.” “What?” fte robber blinked. He took a step closer and shook the gun an- grily. “Condition!?! You don’t get to give conditions, old man. I’ve got the gun! Now quit screwing around and give me your money!” “I don’t think this is a good night to rob someone.” “Well, pal, this night is as good or as bad as any other night,” replied the young man “Give me your money NOW!”

“As I said, you can have everything in my wallet, but first, you should come inside this fine dining establishment.” He nodded in the direction be- hind him to a restaurant. “We will dine together — on me of course,” the old man said, “and I’ll tell you a tale. If, when I am done, you didn’t like my story and you so choose, you can have everything in my wallet. If you like the story, well, maybe that will be worth more.” “Have you lost your mind!?! Are you ON something, old-timer? Why would I go and eat with you? Why should I trust you? You’ll probably call the cops! Now just give me your money and I won’t hurt you!” “No.” “No?!? Are you crazy? Do you think I’m bluffing?” He took another step closer and pointed the gun at the old man’s face. fte old man seemed not to notice the gun and looked straight into the young man’s eyes. “My offer stands. I’ll give you everything I have in my wallet after you eat with me and hear my story,” he repeated calmly. “Now as far as calling the cops on you, look for yourself.” He said, nodding toward the street behind the perplexed young man. fte would-be robber turned slightly to snap a quick look behind him. Outside the alley, and across the street he saw a police car. fte driver leaned out of the window speaking to a police officer sitting on a horse. fte young man’s eyes widened as he realized his victim could have yelled at any time to bring the cops running. fte young man’s resolve began to fade. “Look, man. I…really…I mean, I didn’t…” His voice trailed off as his arm began to lower. “ftink nothing of it, my boy. Now come inside with me out of the cold. ftere’s no need for us to bother those police officers. ftey deserve a quiet night on Christmas Eve, don’t you think?” “I — well. I’m…I don’t.” “Now just listen to yourself,” said the old man kindly. “You’re so cold you can’t even complete a sentence. Inside we go.” fte young man found himself inside before he knew what was happening. He tucked his gun back into his inner coat, but kept his hand near it. fte place was crowded. Conversations danced through the air. Every now and then laughter erupted from a table. fte place gave the young man a warm, homey feeling. Everyone seemed so happy. ftey sat down at a table. “Well, tell me your story.” “I will.” fte old man replied and said nothing more. “When?” asked the young man, getting frustrated.

“When you are ready to listen.” “I’ve had enough of this.” fte young man started to stand up when the waitress arrived. “What can I get you boys tonight?” Caught in mid-stand the young man turned to the older man and for the first time noticed he was not dressed at all like someone should be this time of year. fte youngman’s stomach rumbled at the smells of food around him. “You buying?” he asked. fte old man nodded with a smile. “All right. ften I’m eating,” he said, sitting back down. ftey each placed their order and the waitress left, deftly making her way through the crowd to another table before disappearing into the kitchen. fte young man was about to speak when a musician stepped onto a stage with a guitar and began to play and sing. He could not explain why, but the would-be robber swallowed what he was going to say, and instead began to listen.

The First Noel

fte song ended and a long moment hung in the air until applause burst through the room. Gradually, conversations began again around the room. “Okay, so tell me your story,” the young man said again. “You promised if I don’t like it I get everything in that wallet of yours.” “Indeed I did. And I will keep my promise. Let’s see — where to begin? You said that this night was as good as any to rob someone. Why do you be- lieve that?” “Look man! I knowit’s Christmas Eve. But that don’t make no difference to me. I’m hungry and I need money to eat.” “And so you are here with me having dinner — just like you wanted.” “What?” the young man blinked. “Whatever, man.” “Did you always think this night was just like any other night?” “No, of course not. When I was a kid, I loved Christmas Eve. But I’m not a kid anymore. All that Christmas stuff don’t mean much when you’re living on the street. Ain’t no one bringing me presents anymore. I don’t have any money to buy…” His voice trailed off. “I always liked that song,” said the old man, nodding toward the now-emp- ty stage. “A song about a baby born that changed everything. Babies have a way of doing that, don’t they?” fte old man looked intently across the table. “Huh? How? What are you talking about?” “Babies — they have a way of changing one’s life, don’t they? And that baby that was born in a manger, He changed everything. ftat baby brought hope.”

fte young man looked with far-away eyes for a long moment. A crack appeared in the hardened features of his unshaven face. Sadness washed over his eyes until he noticed the old man’s gaze. “Well maybe that baby brought hope, maybe He didn’t. Who knows if the whole Jesus thing is even real? All I know is that babies today bring responsibility.” “You sound like someone who knows.” “What’s it to ya? I got a kid. Big deal!” “When was the last time you saw him?” fte young man stopped his answer as the waitress set down their food. He tried to think. Had it really been that long? ften he shook his head angrily. “ftey’re better off without me.” “Are you?” “Am I what?” he asked, picking up his fork. “Are you better off without them?” Before the young man could answer another singer walked up on stage and music filled the room. As he listened, the song began to fill the young man’s heart. ften a thought struck him. Did I tell him my baby was a boy?

Hark the Herald Angels Sing

“A baby does change everything, my boy,” continued the old man when the song was done. “ftis world needed help — it needed changing. So God sent not an army of angels, not a philosopher, not a politician, nor an old man like me. He sent a baby to change the world.” “It sounds good,” said the young man. “But how can we know if it’s all true? And if miracles like that used to happen, why don’t they happen any- more? Why don’t people see miracles today?” “Perhaps because most are not looking for them and certainly because most are not listening for them.” “But even if it is real, even if Jesus was born, the world is still a mess,” the young man insisted. “My son doesn’t have any presents from me on Christmas. I’m nothing but a disappointment to him — to all of them.” fte old man’s gaze was soft as he spoke. “But that baby born in the manger needed a daddy. Babies today need dads too. And that is a gift you can give. As far as this world being a mess? On that you are correct, my boy. For hundreds of years people waited for the Messiah to come and when He did, many were not ready. Did you know, the final verse in the Old Testament says God will turn the hearts of the fathers to their children and the hearts of the children to their fathers? Jesus came to save people from sin. He came to heal the broken

and to restore families. And maybe that happens one family at a time. Now, hand over that silly firearm of yours. ftere’s no bullets in it anyway.” fte young man looked stunned. “How did you… ?” He looked into the old man’s eyes that seemed younger than his face. Almost without thinking, his hand reached into his coat. He slid the weapon out and wrapped it in a napkin, and stared in disbelief as he slid the gun across the table. “Sir, I don’t even know your name.” “Well, you can call me Gabe. It appears as if you have heard and enjoyed my story after all. And here’s something else to remember: if Jesus came once to save, you can be sure He will return someday.” fte young man was lost in thought. His mind twisted and wrestled. fte war of hope and doubt began in him, but then another singer took the stage and again the song grabbed him as he absorbed its message.

Joy to the World

“And now if you will excuse me…” Gabe said, rising from the table. “Sure,” the young man replied automatically, assuming Gabe was going to use the restroom. But he watched as Gabe made his way through the tables and the crowd. It was standing-room-only in the restaurant now; Gabe made it to the front door and turned to look back at the young man. He saw the old man nod at him and wink. ften a new group opened the door, bustling in, blocking his view for a moment. When he looked again, Gabe was gone. What!?! fte young man wanted to scream. He left? How could he leave? His thoughts raced. Gabe promised to give me everything in his wallet. Whoa! Did he even pay for our meals? Did that guy just do a dine-and-dash on me?!? ften a more dreadful thought entered his mind. He has my gun. Did he just rob me?!? Maybe he’s going to call the cops now! He saw the waitress making her way through the crowd to his table. She smiled at him, and he saw her carrying something in her hand. That’s probably the bill. I can’t pay it. fte young man put his hands on the table and started to rise. A voice in his head screamed, “RUN! Get out of there before you get caught! ftis wasn’t your fault anyway. It was the old man’s. But no one is going to believe you. Just run and SAVE YOURSELF!” “No.” He said the word out loud. No more running. I need to be a man. I need to be a father to my boy and a husband to my wife. I will take whatever comes. I just want to see my family again.

But I don’t even know where they live now. If I can just get out of this mess, I will find them somehow and… fte waitress arrived. “Look ma’am,” he began sheepishly trying to explain. “I don’t have any money to pay that bill, and the old man…” “What are you talking about?” she interrupted. “Gabe already paid for your meals.” “What? I never saw him pay you.” “He paid before you guys came in. He also asked me to give this to you.” She handed him a worn and frayed brown wallet. “Merry Christmas,” she said as she started to clear the plates. You and I might have thought the young man was politely waiting for her to leave before opening the wallet, but in reality, as he looked at the worn wallet in his hand, he was too stunned to move at first. When he finally opened it and looked inside, he saw a folded note with his name on it, a business card, and — he started counting — 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 700 dollars! He opened the note and saw beautiful handwriting inside. Dear Alex, Thank you for indulging an old man and listening tonight. As I promised, here is everything in my wallet. I did not want you to think I stole your gun, so let’s say this money is payment. Now go to the address on the card. And may you not just have a Merry Christmas, but may the joy and hope you felt tonight bring you a truly merry life. Sincerely, Gabe. Alex stood and, as if in a dream, walked out of the restaurant. fte cold winter air snapped him back to reality and he looked at the address on the card, then looked at the street he was on. He had a few blocks to go, but he felt en- ergized. fte young man started walking, and his pace quickened. Before long, he was moving as fast as he could through the crowded street, then ducked into the toy store where he had seen Gabe. He emerged later with a large, wrapped package in his arms, and contin- ued to make his way toward the address on the card. He stopped again upon seeing a perfume store, went inside, and emerged this time with a small package.

Alex finally made it to the noted address and swallowed hard as he looked up at the building. With snow falling all around, he felt like he was standing in a child’s snow globe. He hesitated a moment, then sighed. If you and I had been there and if we’d been listening carefully, we might have heard the faintest prayer escape his lips as he asked for help. ften he walked up to the door and knocked. fte door opened, and he went inside.

fte sun shone brightly on new-fallen snow as Alex walked the streets again. ftis time not at night, and not in the shadows. And this time not alone. One hand held his wife’s, and in his other arm he carried their son. Smiling from ear to ear, he retraced his steps. He wanted to show his wife the restaurant he’d been at the night before. He even hoped they would bump into Gabe. But when they arrived, he stopped in his tracks.

“Are you sure this is the place?” his wife asked.

It was a restaurant — or had been at one time. He looked at the street sign, then looked up and down the street. He was sure this was it. ften he began to hear music. A group of musicians had set up down the street and were getting ready to play. He walked over to one of the guitar players and asked him about the restaurant.

fte musician looked up from tuning his guitar, looking first at Alex, and then at the restaurant.

“Naw man, that place been closed for years,” he replied. “Used to be a real happenin’ place, though. People from the neighborhood would eat there and listen to music. But man, people stopped comin’. People these days, I don’t know, maybe they too busy to listen. It closed down years ago. I used to play there in my younger years. So now, me and the gang, well we just play and sing on the street corner for anyone who wants to hear.”

Alex walked back to his family.

“But…I was sure,” he said quietly. “I — I don’t understand.”

“It’s a big city,” his wife said. “Maybe it was on a different street. fte im- portant thing is that you’re home. ftat’s what matters. Let’s go back. We have so much to do.”

“ftanks. We will. But first, let’s listen. Let’s slow down and just…listen.”