A CHRISTMAS STORY: Why the Bells Chimed

By the Very Rev. Sherry Crompton
December 30, 2007 (Christmas Eve)
Read: Why The Bells Chimed by Raymond MacDonald Alden
(This story is found all over the Internet and apparently comes originally from Alden's Why the Chimes Rang and Other Stories, (The Bobbs-Merrill Co., Inc.))

Christmas Day is past, but it is still the season of Christmas and today I want to share a wonderful Christmas tale written by Raymond MacDonald Alden many years ago. It is a story that is delightful and warm and I pray that you may be blessed by it as have many others. It is called "Why the Bells Chimed".

There was once, in a far-away country where few people have ever travelled, a wonderful church. It stood on a high hill in the centre of a great city; and every Sunday, as well as on sacred days like Christmas, thousands of people climbed the hill to its great archways, looking like lines of ants all moving in the same direction.

When you came to the building itself, you found stone columns and dark passageways, and a grand entrance leading to the main room of the church. This room was so long that one standing at the door-way could scarcely see to the other end, where the choir stood by the large altar. In the farthest corner was the organ, and this organ was so loud that sometimes when it played, the people for miles around would close their shutters and prepare for a great thunderstorm. Altogether, no such church as this was ever seen before, especially when it was lit up for some festival, and crowded with people, young and old.

But the strangest thing about the old building was the wonderful chime of bells. At one corner of the church was a great, grey tower, with ivy growing over it as far up as one can see. I say as far as one can see because the tower was quite grand enough to fit the grand church, and it rose so far into the sky that it was only in fair weather that anyone claimed to be able to see the top. Even then one could not be certain that it was in sight. Up and up climbed the stones and the ivy, and, as the men who built the church had been dead for hundreds of years, everyone had forgotten how high the tower was supposed to be.

Now, all the people knew that at the top of the tower was a chime of Christmas bells. They had hung there ever since the church had been built, and were the most beautiful bells in the world. Some thought it was because a great musician had cast them and arranged them in their place; others said it was because of the great height, which reached up where the air was cleanest and purest. However that might be, no one who had ever heard the chimes denied that they were the sweetest in the world. Some described them as sounding like angels far up in the sky; others, as sounding like strange winds singing through the trees.

But the fact was that no one had heard them for years and years. There was an old man living not far from the church who said that his mother had spoken of hearing them when she was a little girl, and he was the only one who was sure of as much as that. They were Christmas chimes, you see, and were not meant to be played by men or on common days. It was the custom on Christmas Eve for all the people to bring to the church their offerings to the Christ- child; and when the greatest and best offering was laid on the altar, there used to come sounding through the music of the choir the Christmas chimes far up in the tower. Some said that the wind rang them, and others that they were so high that the angels could start them swinging. But for many years they had never been heard.

It was said that people were growing less careful of their gifts for the Christ-child, and that no offering was brought great enough to deserve the music of the chimes. Every Christmas Eve the rich people still crowded to the altar, each one trying to bring some gift better than any other, without giving anything he wanted for himself, and the church was crowded with those who thought that perhaps the wonderful bells might be heard again. But although the services were splendid and the offerings plenty, only the roar of the wind could be heard, far up in the stone tower.

Now, a number of miles from the city, in a little country village where nothing could be seen of the tower when the weather was fine, lived a boy named Pedro, and his little brother. They knew very little about the Christmas chimes, but they had heard of the service in the church on Christmas Eve, and had a secret plan, which they had often talked over when by themselves, to go and see the beautiful celebration.

"Nobody can guess, Little Brother," Pedro would say, "all the fine things there are to see and hear; and I have even heard it said that the Christ-child sometimes comes down to bless the service. What if we could see Him!"

The day before Christmas was bitterly cold, with a few lonely snowflakes flying in the air, and a hard white crust on the ground. Sure enough, Pedro and Little Brother were able to slip quietly away, early in the afternoon; and although the walk was hard in the frosty air, before nightfall they had trudged so far, hand in hand, that they saw the lights of the big city just ahead of them. Indeed, they were about to enter one of the great gates in the wall that surrounded it when they saw something dark on the snow near the path, and stepped aside to look at it.

It was a poor woman who had fallen just outside the city, too sick and tired to get in where she might have found shelter. The soft snow made of a drift a sort of pillow for her, and she would soon be so sound asleep in the wintry air that no one could ever waken her again. All this Pedro saw in a moment, and he knelt down beside her and tried to rouse her, even tugging at her arm a little as though he would have tried to carry her away. He turned her face toward him so that he could rub some of the snow off it, and when he had looked at her silently a moment, he stood up again and said:

"It's no good, Little Brother. You will have to go on alone."

"Alone?" cried Little Brother, "And you not see the Christmas Festival?"

"No," said Pedro, and he could not keep back a bit of the choking sound in his throat. "See this poor woman. She will freeze to death if nobody cares for her. Everyone has gone to the church now, but when you come back you can bring someone to help her. I will rub her to keep her from freezing, and perhaps get her to eat the bun that is left in my pocket."

"But I cannot bear to leave you, and go on alone," said Little Brother.

"Both of us need not miss the service," said Pedro, "and it had better be I than you. You can easily find your way to the church; and you must see and hear everything twice, Little Brother, -- once for you and once for me. I am sure the Christ-child must know how I should love to come with you and worship Him; and oh! if you get a chance Little Brother to slip up to the altar without getting in anyone's way, take this little silver piece of mine, and lay it down for my offering when no one is looking. Don't forget where you have left me, and forgive me for not going with you."

In this way he hurried Little Brother off to the city, and winked hard to keep back the tears as he heard the crunching footsteps sounding farther and farther away in the twilight. It was pretty hard to lose the music and splendor of the Christmas celebration that he had been planning for so long, and spend the time instead in that lonely place in the snow.

The great church was a wonderful place that night. Everyone said that it had never looked so bright and beautiful before. When the organ played and the thousands of people sang, the walls shook with the sound and little Pedro, outside the city wall, felt the earth tremble around him, for the sound was so great.

At the close of the service came the procession with offerings to be laid on the altar. Rich men and great men marched proudly up to lay down their gifts to the Christ-child. Some brought wonderful jewels, some baskets of gold so heavy that they could scarcely carry them down the aisle. A great writer laid down a book that he had been making for years and years.

And last of all walked the king of the country, hoping with all the rest to win for himself the chime of the Christmas bells. There went a great murmur through the church as the people saw the king take from his head the royal crown, all set with precious stones, and lay it gleaming on the altar as his offering to the holy Child. "Surely." everyone said, "we shall hear the bells now, for nothing like this has ever happened before."

But still only the cold old wind was heard in the tower, and the people shook their heads, and some of them said, as they had before, that they never really believed the story of the chimes, and doubted if they ever rang at all.

The procession was over, and the choir began the closing hymn. Suddenly the organist stopped playing as though he had been shot, and everyone looked at the old minister who was standing by the altar holding up his hand for silence. Not a sound could be heard from anyone in the church, but as all the people strained their ears to listen there came softly, but distinctly swinging through the air, the sound of the chimes in the tower.

So far away and yet so clear the music seemed -- so much sweeter were the notes than anything that had been heard before, rising and falling away up there in the sky, that the people in the church sat for a moment as still as though something held each of them by the shoulders. Then they all stood up together and stared straight at the altar to see what great gift had awakened the long-silent bells.

But all that the nearest of them saw was the childish figure of Little Brother, who had crept softly down the aisle when no one was looking, and had laid Pedro's little piece of silver on the altar......

A Ride Down Black Angel Trail

By the Very Rev. Sherry Crompton
December 24, 2007 (Christmas Eve)
Read: Luke 1:1-20

Heidi Neumark tells of her ride down Bright Angel Trail in the Grand Canyon.

Before my 11-year-old son Hans and I could begin a trip down the Grand Canyon on mule back, I had to sign documents indicating that I understood that the National Parks Service did not guarantee the safety of any participant and was not responsible for any injury, major or minor, brain damage or death, that might result from our journey. I had to state that we had no known serious health problems or heart conditions and that I was not pregnant.

These admonitions were repeated during an orientation session that was geared to weed out the weak-kneed. "If you are afraid of heights, have recently had open-heart surgery [someone in the previous week did and neglected to mention it before passing out], or are prone to whining--get out now and get your money back. If you are not willing to hit the thick-skinned mule with your crop [we were told to call it a "motivator"] in order to keep him within a yard of the next mule--get out now and get your money back.

"If you are not willing to drink your water on command and get hosed down halfway through to prevent heat exhaustion and dehydration--get out now and get your money back. If the switchback turns, where you will find yourself hanging over a 6,000-foot drop, will make you dizzy or upset--get out now and get your money back."

We were instructed on how to sit, how to hold our motivator--let it dangle from the wrist like a bracelet until you need it--and how to brake the mule. When the mules stop, "They should face outward toward the canyon's edge. This is desirable because if a mule is spooked, its instinct is to back up. You want to make sure your mule backs up away from the drop rather than into it." Indeed. We were not to get on or off the mule by ourselves. If any problem should arise, we were to cry "Help!" and our guide would respond. "If you cannot follow directions--get out now and get your money back."

Bright Angel Trail was far narrower than I had imagined. Because there was no room for both a person and a mule to pass, hikers were warned to stand back against the canyon wall and let our mules pass. Hikers were warned not to move suddenly and spook the mules. I was also surprised by the roughness of the trail. The way was often both deeply pitted and stony. The mules seemed surefooted, but how sure could one be? At certain points, for reasons unclear to me, Blackjack, (my mule) hesitated. At such moments I was supposed to apply the motivator, but I wondered at the wisdom of hitting an animal who might be hesitating for good reason. I hoped our guide wouldn't look back and notice my disobedience. The mule in front of us never seemed to hesitate and kept closer to the cliffwall.

Why didn't Blackjack do this? Blackjack plodded right along the very edge of the cliff, less than an inch between his hoof and thin air. "No one has been lost in 90 years," the guide promised. "The mules know what they are doing and so do I." This was comforting--to an extent. But can't a mule have an occasional off day? There was very little margin for error here, and in Blackjack's case, no margin. Nevertheless, I was eventually drawn away from my focus on the edge. After all, we had not embarked on this trip to spend it staring at mule hooves tamping down the red dust. We did it to see a wonder that was wrought over a million millenniums, one that traced our planet's history in multihued waves of stone, towering mountains eroded to their roots, and shifting continental plates squeezing valleys toward the clouds. The top rim of the Grand Canyon bears the trace of ancient waters--the fossils of shells, coral and worms that once lived at the bottom of the sea.

Somewhere in the midst of the grandeur, I thought of Mary on her way to Bethlehem. Once she'd said yes to the angel, she signed on for a trip with no way out. No chance to "get out now" and get her money back. True, she wasn't traveling down the Grand Canyon, but Mary's journey was just as uncomfortable. She traveled on the edge, where injury and death are likely eventualities.

Why do you think I shared that story? Aren’t we all on a strange journey, one that we call life. Don’t we, many times, feel as if we are just on the edge of a cliff with a 6,000 foot drop? Don’t we experience stony trails?

And yet we ride on, in a world that offers no guarantees and plenty of risk ... entrusting our days to the stubborn, plodding mules of duty that bear us forward--or is it the promise of our guide?--"I know this path. I have gone before you. Just listen to me. You'll make it." Our guide is Jesus Christ and he is there for us. He came into this world as one of us and died for all of us. So let us lift our eyes from the footsteps in the dust and trust that God is indeed with us. Focus on the miracle of Christ in our midst and rejoice in spring flowers studding a desert plain spread before us: “yellow starbursts inside white primroses, magenta blooms of beavertail cactus, pale orange petals on the mariposa lilies fluttering in the wind, and ruddy stalks of Indian paintbrush--each one magnifying the Lord and echoing around the canyon walls”.

The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it. – John 1:5 Amen.

Joseph's Yield Sign

By the Very Rev. Sherry Crompton
December 23, 2007
Read: Matthew 1:18-25

Stephen Beck told about crossing a narrow bridge on a country road. It was one of those narrow, one-lane bridges. Two cars cannot pass each other on those bridges. If there was a car on the bridge when you got there, you had to stop and wait for it to finish crossing before you could go. If you and another car got on the bridge at the same time, you would be nose-to-nose and one of you would have to back off the bridge.

So Beck told about coming to one of those bridges and seeing a Yield sign. After he crossed the bridge, he happened to look back and noticed that there was a Yield sign on that end too. He was curious enough that he stopped to check and, sure enough, there were Yield signs on both ends of the bridge.

It kind of reminds us of Joseph and his story today. He was in a tough spot and no matter which way he went, it wasn’t a clear, easy path with no obstacles in his way. He had no choice but to yield to circumstances beyond his control.

Let’s think through Joseph’s situation. He is engaged to Mary and Mary winds up pregnant. So we can imagine how shocked, angry, and embarrassed Joseph must have been when he got the news that Mary was pregnant. He knew that he wasn’t the child’s father! He figured Mary had been unfaithful. And he knew that the only way he could avoid public disgrace was to divorce her. But Joseph was a kind and fair man, who didn’t want Mary to be publicly shamed either. He could have made a big fuss, and Mary would have been subject to the death penalty under Jewish law, but, instead, as Matthew tells us, Joseph “planned to dismiss her quietly”. He would yield to that route.

Joseph must have thought his life had taken a disastrous, embarrassing turn for the worst. But then he discovered he had experienced what a friend of mine calls “a holy disruption”. God stepped into his life, and changed it, sent Joseph in a new and positive direction.

An angel spoke to him in a dream—have you noticed that in the Bible? Have you noticed how often God speaks to a biblical character in a dream? And do you suppose God might still speak to us in our dreams?

Anyway, in his dream, Joseph was told that Mary’s child was not a child of scandal, but a miraculous child, conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit. The angel instructed Joseph to receive Mary as his wife, to name the child “Jesus”—meaning “Salvation”—and to care for the baby as his own.

I like the description “a holy disruption”—don’t you? God disrupted Joseph’s plans. So Joseph faced this crisis and there are more to come as we continue reading Matthew. He will continue to be disrupted by God in his dreams. But what is remarkable about Joseph is that he hears the messages intended for him and takes the necessary action. So what is it that makes him so receptive?

Consider how he is described in today's Gospel. The word applied to him is "righteous." Joseph is a righteous man. He is obedient to God as he knows God. God is not a stranger to Joseph, so when a crisis comes and God sends him a message, Joseph hears the message and does what must be done. Joseph is a man of faith before the crisis, so that when the crisis comes, he is able to act in faith, and do the Godly thing.

Here's an important reason for a life of prayer, an important reason for the regular practice of prayer. Because if we are in relationship with God through a life of prayer, if we value God's company on those ordinary days, then, when the day of crisis arrives, and our world comes apart at the seams, we are better able to recognize God's voice speaking to us at the heart of the crisis, and we are better able to respond in faith by doing what God would have us do, by living as God would have us live.

Life is challenging enough even if you have faith, but what happens with people who have no faith, who do not pray? What happens to them when the inevitable crisis occurs?

They lose a loved one. How can they begin to hear God's voice speak softly to them in their bereavement when their grief shouts so hopelessly? In a troubled time, it would be hard for anyone to hear the divine voice, to see the vision of a greater purpose, but how hard it must be without the experience of listening to God in better times!

God speaks to us in a variety of ways. For Joseph, it was through the Jewish law and a remarkable series of dreams. For us, it may happen through scripture reading and worship, through personal devotions, the beauty of nature, the warmth of human love, the circumstances of each day. Our response to God constitutes our prayer. No one who knows about prayer says it is easy. Routine practices can seem empty at times. There's always something else waiting for us to do. Yet it's vital to persist in prayer. It's vital that we do this -- and for several reasons. One of the most important is that through our prayer, our response to God, our relationship with God, we become able to recognize the divine voice whenever it speaks, even in the heart of crisis.

Times of crisis are sure to come in every life. Our choice lies in how we will respond. Will the noise of our own fears drown out everything else, or will we hear God's voice speaking to us at the heart of the crisis? Having heard that voice, will we take the necessary action? Will we be obedient to the message?

Our response is never simply private. What we do in response to God's voice has impact on other lives beyond our ability to understand. When Joseph’s moment of crisis arrived, he heard the divine voice and acted upon it, and what happened was a widespread redemption, unexpected and unstoppable.

Let us thank the Lord for Joseph’s faith in a time of crisis. Let us thank the Lord for the grace to give Joseph a “holy disruption” in his plans for his own life. And may we all be granted the grace to hear and act when our own lives are facing a “holy disruption”. When we come upon that one lane country road, will we yield to God’s voice, the Holy Spirit? Will we take the hand of Jesus and follow where he leads? “Yes, by the grace of God” and the people said, Amen.

Matthew's Bear

By the Very Rev. Sherry Crompton
December 16, 2007
Read: Matthew 11:2-11

Today I want to tell you about my buddy, Matthew. When Matthew was 3 he asked Santa for a teddy bear. His parents were surprised because he already had a teddy bear that he took everywhere with him—to bed, to day care, shopping. When he was sent to his room for time out, he had his teddy bear..his best friend, Koko. So, when Matthew asked for a second teddy bear everyone was surprised. I guess Santa was too, because Santa didn’t leave one that year. Koko continued to be Matthew’s best friend and time-out buddy, and no one heard a word about another teddy bear—until next Christmas.

At the end of his letter to Santa he wrote: “and the bear you forgot to bring me last year”. When he went to visit Santa at the mall, Matthew reminded him to bring “the bear you forgot to bring me last year”. When he told his grandparents what he wanted for Christmas he said, “and the bear Santa forgot to bring me last year”. Santa didn’t forget that year and under the tree was a small, soft, dark brown bear whom Matthew promptly named, "Misfit."

Matthew was expectant. He spent an entire year waiting and expecting that Santa would bring that bear the next Christmas. In our story from the Bible this morning, John was expectant. He expected Jesus to be the Messiah. But then John ended up in prison and wasn’t so sure that Jesus was who he thought he was. And so he asked the question, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”. And Jesus told his disciples to tell John what they see.

People’s lives were changed. It may not have been exactly what John was expecting…it was better. People’s lives were changed because they encountered Jesus. God wants us to live expectant lives. God wants us to expect Jesus to be here for us. Just like Matthew expected that the bear would show up. Believe that Jesus is here for you now. Amen.

Wake Up!

By the Very Rev. Sherry Crompton
December 2, 2007
Read: Isaiah 2:1-5, Romans 13:11-14, Matthew 24:36-44

You may have heard about the idea of the Rapture….The Rapture where, at the end of time, some people are spirited away, they just disappear, and others are left behind. It is today’s reading from Matthew that can give that idea. Except, I think these readings for the First Sunday of Advent are much more challenging than that. First, in the prophet Isaiah, we read about a political cataclysm when the kings of Israel had offered to pay tribute for protection from invaders. Isaiah proclaims the vision of a new Israel where tribute will be no more because all kingdoms will come to the “mountain of the Lord’s house.” And then comes the vision of universal peace where “they shall beat their swords into ploughshares and their spears into pruning hooks.” No one will learn war anymore. Anyone reading a newspaper would agree we are far from that vision today. But this vision has given people hope.

And then there is the Gospel reading, which is part of the apocalypse from Matthew where Jesus addresses people’s concerns about the end. He does this, incidentally, from the Mount of Olives where he is about to begin his own arrest, trial, and crucifixion. Jesus was certainly aware of what might happen to him as he spoke. We have a suggestion here of how universal that end will be—it will affect everyone, believer and non-believer alike. People engaged in work, and people partying are two extremes of those who will be caught up in the coming of the Son of Man.

People were just as curious then as they are now. They wanted to know when, who, and what they had to do to be saved. Jesus doesn’t answer these questions directly. He wants people to live a different way, to not be afraid of living altogether.

And then there’s today’s second lesson from Romans. In it Paul, who also senses the immediacy of Jesus’ return, focuses not on when it will be or what it will be like, but how we should live as expectant people.

Paul tells us to be awake, lay aside works of darkness, put on the armor of light, and live honorably. He doesn’t have any interest in doomsayers or seers predicting destruction. What Paul wants is for people to behave like disciples, followers of Jesus.

What does that look like though? This keeping awake?

Anthony de Mello was a great spiritual teacher. In one of his books, entitled “Awareness” there are excerpts from his retreats in which he tells us to “wake up”, stop sleeping. In his words, Spirituality means waking up. “Most people, even though they don’t know it, are asleep. They never understand the loveliness and the beauty of this thing that we call human existence. He says all mystics agree on one thing: that all is well, all is well. Even though everything is a mess, all is well. It’s a strange paradox. Anthony de Mello challenges us to unlearn what we have been taught. That a willingness to unlearn, to listen, is the way wake up.

He says, “Are you listening, as most people do, in order to confirm what you already think? We frequently interpret everything that’s said in terms of our own conditioning or programming. Like this girl who’s listening to a lecture on agriculture and says, “excuse me, sir, you know I agree with you completely that the best manure is aged horse manure. Would you tell us how old the horse should optimally be?” Do you see where she’s coming from? We all have our positions don’t we? And we listen from the positions. “Henry, how you’ve changed! You were so tall and you’ve grown so short. You were so well built and you’ve grown so thin. You were so fair and you’ve become so dark. What happened to you, Henry?” Henry says, “I’m not Henry. I’m John.” “Oh you changed your name too!” Listening. Think about it.

Observe your reactions as I talk. You may be startled or shocked or scandalized or irritated or annoyed or frustrated. Or you’ll be saying, “great!” But are you listening for what will confirm what you already think? Or are you listening in order to discover something new? That is important. It is difficult for sleeping people. Jesus proclaimed the good news yet he was rejected. Not because it was good, but because it was new.

There is a story about some people who were on a raft off the coast of Brazil perishing from thirst. They had no idea that the water they were floating on was fresh water. The river was coming out into the sea with such force that it went out for a couple of miles, so they had fresh water right there where they were. But they had no idea. In the same way we are surrounded with joy, with happiness, with love. Repent! Wake Up! Put on a new mind. Take on a new way of looking at things. For the Kingdom of God is here, now!”

Advent is often thought of as a time of quiet waiting. Perhaps it should be a time of active searching! Searching for the spark of Jesus in others, repairing and polishing our own armor of light, and looking for hope when people say there isn’t any.

Advent is not about getting ready for Christmas, either. It is a separate, intense season of looking for, and listening for, the hope planted by God within each of us. It is a time of shutting out darkness, refusing to accept it as part of life. Even though it is the darkest part of the year in the Northern Hemisphere, Advent is a time to light the lamps and scatter the darkness, not brood over it.

There are many references in the Scriptures today to “the day.” “Day” should be thought of as floods of light banishing the lies we tell ourselves that keep us from the truth. Day should be though of as light scattering the darkness from before us. Day should be thought of as energy, morality, and joy. Day should be lived as new behavior, casting away the works of darkness and finding wonderful things that disciples have always known were there. Day should mean letting the light shine into your soul and revealing the things you’ve been hiding there, the things you know displease God and keep you from living as a person of light. Day can be cleansing as well are revealing. The light from Christ's birth, death and resurrection surrounds us all. This Advent let’s walk in it, live with it and behave in response to it, and this Advent will be one to remember. Wake up! Amen.