Christmas Day 2021

Christmas Day 2021

Merry Christmas!

Thank you for walking along with me through this Advent season.

¡Amistad!

Friendship!

T

It was early morning. 

The African sun had yet to rise above the mountains, and the sky was the soft yellow of newly shucked corn.

“Beep, beep,” sounded the horn from the old truck as it rumbled to a stop in front of my house. 

My best friends – Momadu, Madu, and Balamusa – greeted me with smiles, waves, and morning blessings.

We were on our way from Kenieba, a small town in western Mali, to Sitaxoto, a large village about two hours away over a broken dirt road.

A church was there, a little group of people who met each week outside under a big baobab tree to pray, share stories and ask, “How do we follow Jesus together?”

On that day, we were going to share communion with that church.

Before we left town, we stopped at the home of a baker with a stone oven to buy the bread that would become a symbol of Jesus’ body.

We bought dried leaves to make the red tea that would become a symbol of Jesus’ blood.

“Beep, beep!” 

With waves and departing blessings, we were off.

We arrived at Sitaxoto and found people sitting in a circle in the shade of the great tree. 

We spoke to each other and blessed each other in the humanizing way of the Malinke people.

“How are you ... How is your family ... How are your children ... May God send rain to your field ... May God give you enough food to eat ... May God give you healthy children.”

Their arms hugged me and their words did, too.

As we began the communion liturgy, Momadu whispered to me, “Will you say the words? It would mean a lot to our friends.”

“Yes,” I answered in my elementary Malinke. “That would mean a lot to me.”

I held the bread tenderly in my hands, gave thanks, broke it apart and gave it away saying: “This is Jesus’ body, which is given for you. Take it and eat it in remembrance of Jesus.”

Everyone ate the bread except one woman across from me in our circle.

“Why didn’t she eat the bread?” I whispered to Momadu.  “Do you think she understood my Malinke?”

“It’s OK,” he answered. “I’ll tell you later.”

After the sacrament, Momadu placed his arm around my shoulder. 

“Look closely,” he said, “At our friend.”

I looked at her.

And I saw what I had not seen before.

There was a child in her lap laying against her body.

A child as thin and frail as one of the furthest reaches of the baobab tree.

“Her daughter has been sick for some time,” said Momadu. “Bread is expensive for her to buy. She was saving the bread for her daughter.”

I was speechless. 

Here, I had come to bring God to my African friends. 

Instead, God came to me in this African woman and her child.

And that, I believe, is Christmas.

God comes to us in ‘upside down’ ways.

Or, as one of my heroes and role models, Albert Schweitzer, wrote -

Jesus comes to us as One unknown, without a name, as of old, by the lakeside, He came to those who knew Him not. He speaks to us the same words: "Follow thou me!" and sets us to the tasks which He has to fulfill for our time. He commands. And to those who obey Him, whether they be wise or simple, He will reveal himself in the toils, the conflicts, the sufferings which they shall pass through in His fellowship, and, as an ineffable mystery, they shall learn in their own experience Who He is.

God comes to us.

- Trevor Scott Barton, Advent Notebook, 2021