Come thou long expected one.
Feast Of the Epiphany A 1/5/20 Is60;Eph3;Mt2:1-12 E 4, 10, 12 Jmayzik SJ
A week before Christmas there was a full moon over the city, and beautiful moonlight with it, across the rooftops of apartment buildings, over the waters gleaming in the East river, through the treetops wavering in the night wind, casting living light patterns on the grass of Madison Square Park. The night after Christmas, there was no moon at all, and as I lay in my bed in the wee hours, the only light coming in my window was the flickering of a lonely string of Christmas lights on the fire escape outside someone's apartment.
When the voice on the phone told me to bring my car in, no waiting…I thought, this is perfect, this is a delight, between Christmas and New Year's no one goes to get their brakes fixed—except me apparently---and so it was perfect. I was in a good mood when I got there.
I mentioned it to the woman behind the counter; my delight to be served so promptly, that the holidays made the wait so brief. She looked at me, barely, and grunted. "Huuumph. . , yeah, great."
How would I describe her to you? Not too old, maybe in her mid 50's. Medium length brown hair. Classes--half glasses--the kind you peer over when you're speaking to someone. A little heavy-set. She was wearing a tight black, running outfit, which made her weight a little more obvious. No make-up. There was a hardness to her, she was very business-like and direct, but she never smiled, and she never looked you in the eyes. When she quoted a price, and told me how long it would take, she looked off to the side, as though she really didn't care what my reaction was to what she said. Maybe too many people challenged her, or were just nasty to her, I don't know, but she certainly had an air of disinterest and nonchalance that seemed Impenetrable.
I sat waiting in a hard chair just opposite from where she stood behind the counter. It was a slow day, most of the time she stood and read the Post, licking a finger to turn the pages, reading its stories through those half glasses. I saw a headline that said “Hanukkah Horror, Hate in His Eyes”. When someone would come in, she'd barely acknowledge them, and when she was forced to quote a price or answer an inquiry, she'd hold her paper open as she spoke so as not to lose her place.
I had a book to read, but I found myself more interested in her than in my book. I wondered where she lived, whether she had a family or not, if she was divorced, when was the last time she had really fallen in love. I wondered what kind of a Christmas she had, if there were any children in her life, if she had an artificial tree or no tree at all. The moon had waned, and to tell you the truth, there were no stars evidently lighting up her eyes... or her life.
I went back to my book, she read on in the Post. The room was silent, a reading room in the library, save for the occasional distraction of a clang or a yell from the garage beyond. Two solitary souls temporarily bound together by my bad brakes.
From the street, the door opened. A burst of chilly December air entered with a man. I looked up. He was smiling, the grin of a fool, because no one smiles like that unless he has just been told a joke, or is indeed, a fool, unaware that a smile like that is inappropriate in a world that has no reason for joy. He was also dressed the beggar, a long ragged overcoat, worn out sneakers, a hat with dirt on it. I couldn't tell you his age. His beard was salt and pepper, there were deep lines in. his wind-reddened face., his hands were cracked and veiny. He looked at me, then over at her, grinning,
"Come, Come. Come see," calling her out from the counter with his hand, calling me out too, outside, he wanted us to go outside. She looked directly at him above the glasses, a look of disgust and extreme annoyance, "Tsst." She forgot to keep her place in the Post, as she came out from behind the counter. "No, you get out of here. Come on, get out." The fool just stood there, grinning. "Jesus Christ, get out," and she pointed to the door. "Come see," he smiled at her angry face, and then at me, and then, reluctantly, he moved towards the door. When he was out, she slammed the door and locked it behind him. I could see him through the window. He was looking at the door and he was still smiling, "Nut case," she muttered, as she returned to her place behind the counter. It took her a little while to settle back in, the guy clearly had upset her. But soon the angry headlines and sensational stories of the paper gained her attention once again.
I got up and went over to the window to see what happened to the man. He was a little ways down the sidewalk, his back was turned towards me, and he was crouching down over something.
I unlocked the door and went out, my curiosity aroused, approaching him in his crouch. He heard my footsteps, turned his head, still grinning, and gestured to me, "Come, see," his hand leading me towards this tiny baby, blanket wrapped, warmly bundled, sleeping, his mother beside him gently rocking the carriage. I smiled, automatically, and so did the mother, and so did the fool before the child, now on his knees.
"How old?" I asked her, "Two weeks," she replied. "Beautiful," I said, without even trying to compliment , and she smiled again. A car pulled up, and a young man got out, and the father led mother and child over to the car. They got in, baby secured in the back seat, and they left. The grinning fool was gone down the sidewalk, walking away.
I went back into the shop, sitting, back before the stony woman. She made no acknowledgment of my return, not a nod or a look, certainly not a smile. She had no idea of the little miracle she had missed outside, In fact, she had fortified herself against just such an occurrence in her life. five days after Christmas, the miracle of Christ's birth was as old and worn out as the brakes on my car, and not nearly as interesting as the stories of strange people and hate crimes within the pages of the that newspaper. When a wise man came into her life, fool that he was, she had the good sense to throw him out in the name, of all things, of Jesus Christ.
My brothers and sisters, the moon is waxing, and the sky is growing brighter night by night. There was, and is, a star that burns brightly through the darkness, that leads fools like you and me to the child born to save us all from our coldness, hopelessness, our wary heartlessness. Come to him, come and see, our little miracle, our savior and our true king, our prince of peace.
Lord Jesus Christ. Son of the Most High. Prince of Peace. Be discovered again in our world. May the nations come to their senses and see you in their midst. Wherever there is war, wherever there is pain, wherever there is loneliness, wherever there is no hope, come, thou long expected one, with healing in thy wings. Come, come quickly. Amen.