Freedom-Fighters Forum

Wiliam J. Dell – December 1992

It is recorded in the Scriptures, Luke Chapter 10, a parable that I believe relates to Christmas. You perhaps have never thought of the Good Samaritan as a Christmas story but let me share a few parities with you to illustrate.

In Raymond MacDonald Alden’s story Why the Chimes Rang, the story is told of a wonderful church so large and so grand that it defied description. One of the attributes of this church was its bell tower. It was so high that one could not see the top except on a very clear day. It was said that the bells were Christmas Chimes and only rang when an appropriate gift was laid upon the altar for the Christ child at the Christmas service. The beginning of the story tells that only one old man had memory of his mother hearing the chimes when she was a little girl. Many, many Christmas had come and gone and the chimes had not played.

In a little village some distance from the city lived Pedro and his little brother. They knew nothing of the Christmas chimes, but they had heard of the service on Christmas Eve. These two lads devised a secret plan to attend to see the beautiful service.

“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 walking 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 their 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 find 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 on it, and when he had looked at her silently a moment he stood up again, and said:

“It’s no use, Little Brother. You’ll 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 a choking sound in his throat. “See this poor woman. Her face looks like the Madonna in the chapel window, and 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 much 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. Do not forget where you have left me, and forgive me for not going with you.”

Little Brother hurried off leaving Pedro to tend the woman in the snow. He found the church to be as wonderful as he had heard. At the end of the service came the procession to the altar. Rich men came forward and proudly gave their gift to the Christ child. Some brought jewels, baskets of gold, a great writer gave his book. Last of all, the king of the country gave his crown. Everyone thought surely we shall hear the chimes now for not so grand a gift has ever been given. But, alas, nothing was heard.

“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 hands 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 similar parity can be found in Gian Carlo Menotti’s Amahl and the Night Visitors. After Amahl’s mother is caught stealing the gold intended for the Christ child, Amahl, who is crippled and walks with a crutch, defends her without regard for his own safety. He then makes an offer of his crutch for a present to the new born king “because he may need one”. With this gift Amahl begins to walk.

And what of O. Henry’s story of The Gift of the Magi? In it you will recall Della sells her hair to buy a chain for her husband’s watch. While her husband, Jim, sold the watch to buy the combs she wanted for her hair.

Yet another example, Henry Van Dyke’s The Story of the Other Wise Man. In this story Artaban is to meet the three wise men and go with then to worship the King. He is delayed because he stops to assist a fallen man similar to the Good Samaritan. He then sets out alone to search for the King that he might give him his gifts.

Though he found no one to worship, he found many to serve. As the years passed he fed the hungry, clothed the naked, healed the sick and comforted the captive.
Thirty-three years passed away since Artaban began his search and he was still a pilgrim. His hair was now white as snow. He knew his life’s end was near but he was still desperate with hope that he would find the king. He had come for the last time to Jerusalem. Here he hears of the crucifixion and thinks that perhaps the pearl he has save can ransom the Savior. As he hastens toward Golgotha, he is placed in the position of ransoming a maiden who is to be sold into slavery.

Artaban trembled as he again felt the old conflict arising in his soul. It was the same that he had experienced in the palm grove of Babylon and in the cottage at Bethlehem. Twice the gift which he had consecrated to the king had been drawn from his hand to the service of humanity. Would he now fail again. One thing was clear, he must rescue this helpless child from evil.

He took the pearl from his bosom. Never had it seemed so luminous, so radiant, so full of tender, living luster. He laid it in the hand of the slave and said, “Daughter, this is the ransom. It is the last of my treasures which I had hoped to keep for the King.”

While he spoke, the darkness of the sky thickened and the shuddering tremors of an earthquake ran through the ground.

The houses rocked. The soldiers fled in terror. Artaban sank beside a protecting wall. What had he to fear? What had he to hope for? He had given away the last remnant of his tribute to the King. The quest was over and he had failed. What else mattered? As one lingering pulsation of the earthquake quivered beneath him, a heavy tile, shaken from the roof, fell and struck him on the temple. He lay breathless and pale. THe rescued girl leaned over him fearing that he was dead. Then there came a still, small voice through the twilight. The girl could not understand the words.

Then the lips of Artaban began to move, as if in answer and she heard him say, “Not so, my Lord; for when saw I thee hungered and fed thee? Or thirsty, and gave thee drink? When saw I thee a stranger and took thee in? Or naked, and clothed thee? When saw I thee sick or in prison, and came unto thee? Thirty-three years have I looked for thee; but I have never seen thy face, nor ministered unto thee, my King.”

As he ceased, the sweet voice came again. And again the maid heard it, very faintly and far away. But now she understood the words which said, “Verily, I say unto thee, that inasmuch as thou hast done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, thou hast done it to me.”

Lastly, what of the gift the Savior gives to each of us. He gave himself that we might have Eternal Life, the greatest of all the gifts of God.

From all of these, this Patriarch has learned that:

The Greatest Christmas Gift is the Gift of Self.