[Adapted by Paul Harvey for ABC =
Radio]
Unable to trace its proper parentage, I have designated =
this as my Christmas Story of the Man and the Birds. You know, THE =
Christmas Story, the God born a man in a manger and all that escapes =
some moderns, mostly, I think, because they seek complex answers to =
their questions and this one is so utterly simple. So for the cynics and =
the skeptics and the unconvinced I submit a modern =
parable.
Now the man to whom I’m going to introduce you was =
not a scrooge; he was a kind, decent, mostly good man. Generous to his =
family, upright in his dealings with other men. But he just didn’t =
believe all that incarnation stuff which the churches proclaim at =
Christmas Time. It just didn’t make sense and he was too honest to =
pretend otherwise. He just couldn’t swallow the Jesus Story, about =
God coming to Earth as a man. “I’m truly sorry to distress =
you,” he told his wife, “but I’m not going with you to =
church this Christmas Eve.” He said he’d feel like a =
hypocrite. That he’d much rather just stay at home, but that he =
would wait up for them. And so he stayed and they went to the midnight =
service.
Shortly after the family drove away in the car, snow began =
to fall. He went to the window to watch the flurries getting heavier and =
heavier and then went back to his fireside chair and began to read his =
newspaper. Minutes later he was startled by a thudding sound. Then =
another, and then another. Sort of a thump or a thud. At first he =
thought someone must be throwing snowballs against his living room =
window. But when he went to the front door to investigate he found a =
flock of birds huddled miserably in the snow. They’d been caught =
in the storm and, in a desperate search for shelter, had tried to fly =
through his large living room picture window.
Well, he couldn’t let the poor creatures lie there =
and freeze, so he remembered the stable where his children played with =
their pony. That would provide a warm shelter, if he could direct the =
birds to it. Quickly he put on a coat, galoshes, tramped through the =
deepening snow to the barn. He opened the doors wide and turned on a =
light, but the birds did not come in. He figured food would entice them =
in. So he hurried back to the house, fetched bread crumbs, sprinkled =
them on the snow, making a trail to the yellow-lighted wide open doorway =
of the stable. But to his dismay, the birds ignored the bread crumbs, =
and continued to flap around helplessly in the snow. He tried catching =
them. He tried shooing them into the barn by walking around them waving =
his arms. Instead, they scattered in every direction, except into the =
warm, lighted barn.
And then, he realized, that they were afraid of him. To =
them, he reasoned, I am a strange and terrifying creature. If only I =
could think of some way to let them know that they can trust me. That I =
am not trying to hurt them, but to help them. But how? Because any move =
he made tended to frighten them, confuse them. They just would not =
follow. They would not be led or shooed because they feared him. =
“If only I could be a bird,” he thought to =
himself, “and mingle with them and speak their language. Then I =
could tell them not to be afraid. Then I could show them the way to the =
safe, warm …to the safe warm barn. But I would have to be one of =
them so they could see, and hear, and =
understand.”
At that moment the church bells began to ring. The sound =
reached his ears above the noise of the wind. And he stood there =
listening to the bells pealing the glad tidings of Christmas. And he =
sank to his knees in the snow.
~~
Dr Bob Griffin
[email protected] www.grif.net
"Jesus Knows Me, This I =
Love!"