In ancient times, there lived a young man and woman who fell very much in love, married, and longed for a family of their own.  Their joy could not be contained when they learned that the young wife was expecting their first child.  But alas, the young husband’s grief could not be consoled when his beloved spouse died in childbirth.  Still, he gave himself completely to the love, nurturing, and care of their daughter, never remarrying.  And though the pain of his sorrow was greatest on that day each year, the celebration of his daughter’s birth knew no limits.  The feast, music, gifts, and gathering of friends and relatives assured the young girl that her life was invaluable, and diminished not one iota by the tragedy of her mother’s death on that same day.

His daughter came to be married and gave birth to three children.  In time, the father too died, advanced in age, but with no regrets.  In his honor, every year on his birthday, his daughter hosted a great celebration.  As her father had done for her, she held a great feast with music and dancing and gift giving, inviting all of her friends and relatives and neighbors.  And the highlight of the night was always the mother recounting stories of her father.  How he had lavished his love on her.  The great sacrifices he had made of his own dreams.  His decision not to remarry in honor of his first love.

Her children reveled in the celebration and delighted in the stories of their grandfather.  In time, they grew up, married, and had children of their own.  They too looked forward with great anticipation to the annual feast.  And when their grandmother died, their parents played the part of storytellers, regaling the virtues and heroic love of their great grandfather.  Though some parents spent less time in the storytelling, since after all, they hadn’t known great grandfather personally.  Still they threw themselves wholeheartedly into the feast.

A New Hero

In time, another generation was born and introduced to the annual tradition.  Now most of the families had lost touch with the life and virtues of their great, great grandfather.  Still others resented the focus on him, and were jealous of the attention given him.  So when the children gathered together for the highlight of the night, the storytellers made up a new hero – a mythical character who had superpowers beyond imagination – but no birthday to celebrate..

Over the decades, the festival grew in size and extravagance, but only a small handful of families preserved the memory of their ancestor’s birth.  The family tree had become largely uprooted.  It failed to remember from where it had come and from whom.  The annual celebration was only an excuse to have a party and exchange gifts.

Christmas is the celebration of the greatest event in the history of humanity.  It honors the birth of Jesus Christ – divinity taking on humanity.  A life lived in total sacrifice to rescue every human life from death and eternal suffering.  But the human family has forgotten its roots.  We have largely failed to convey from generation to generation the inconceivable truth about the life of Jesus and its meaning for every person that has ever lived on this planet.  We have stopped telling the Greatest Story Ever Told.

It has taken a global pandemic to get the world’s attention.  And it’s time for the remnant who still know the story to stem the tide and turn it back.  Now that people are looking for answers, for those of us who have had the privilege of receiving it, let’s have the courage to tell the story that provides them.