Advent Chores

8/3/2019 Advent Chores

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Bill Kennedy

A Warm Welcome – and a Mild Caution…

Welcome to Yellow Springs – a place you can onlyimagine!

For many years, a Christmas Tale from Yellow Springshas provided a platform for me to offer a personal

perspective on this special season. The stories havealways fit within the Judeo-Christian spectrum, butthere are a whole lot of issues about which reasonable

minds – especially religious minds – may differ, and this year’s story falls within that category.

Last year, I made an iWeb-based web site where youcould find the 2009 story, as well as all prior year’s

Tales. It is a testament to my internet incompetence that

I can’t figure out how to load this year’s story onto thatweb site, so if you go towww.yellowspringsstories.com

or

”http://web.me.com/yellowsprings.wdk”

you can find the old stories … but not this one!In any event, here’s my wish for us all to have a joyousand healthy Christmas, and a genuinely Happy New

Year.

- [email protected]©2010 William D. Kennedy



On the Friday after Thanksgiving, Felix Flegelhoffer trudged

into his Fair Value Hardware store two long hours before the sunwould begin to peak over the hills in eastern Conestoga County.

‘Black Friday’ begins earlier each year. In October, Addy Sellersfrom the Yellow Springs Searchlight spoke to Felix about space

in the Thanksgiving paper – “the year’s largest edition,” she boasted. Addy told Felix that the Supply Depot and the Fifty-

Cent Shoppe were each opening their doors at 5:30 a.m. Felixsnorted that he wasn’t going to lose out to those big box stores,

so he ordered an ad that said his store would open at five in themorning.

Felix had paid for the ad in advance, and it didn’t take muchfor him to completely forget about the early store-opening until

after Thanksgiving dinner, when he crumpled up somenewspaper to start a fire, and then his eye caught the Fair Value’s

piece in the Home and Hearth section. Felix realized that hehadn’t asked any of his employees to open up the store three

hours earlier than normal the next morning. It’d be cruel to callany of his crew at this time on Thanksgiving night, he thought –

they’d all be enjoying their dinners or, better yet, their post-dinner snoozes. And so for 80 year-old Felix, the first chore of

the Advent season was to set his alarm for four in the morning sothat he’d be at the store on time to swing the front door. When

the first customer, Danny Dauerditter, walked in at a little after 8,he quickly moved to find what he needed, paying no attention

whatsoever to the effort Felix had made to have been open hoursearlier.

*****

Danny Dauerditter’s wife Debbie spent the first weekend in

December doing the same job she had done that same weekendfor nearly thirty years: handwriting personal notes to each of the

people on her Christmas card list. Way back when, the task took maybe an hour or so, but now, having met friends in the six

different time zones in three different countries and with two

different husbands, the note-writing job stretched out all day, andsometimes into the after-work hours of Monday and Tuesday.

Debbie sighed as she looked at the paper supplies moundedup in piles on the dining room table. Most of the recipients of

Debbie’s annual greetings spent barely a few rushed seconds

reading her thoughtful notes before they moved on to rip openthe next envelope; even fewer realized the care and prayer thatDebbie invested in each handwritten card. “I like to give

everyone the personal touch,” she explained to her grandsonwhen he asked her why she took the time and energy to write

individual cards, “but I have to admit: at times, writingChristmas greetings is a real chore!”

*****

Mayor Chet Chinkup’s chores culminate every year when

Yellow Springs hosts its Olde Fashioned Christmas. The villagecelebration of games, music, food, music, and shopping booths

was always capped by the arrival of a Santa imitator – one whowore the same size suit as high school teacher Ned Gruber.

Slippery Slopes Ski Area led the financial sponsorship of theevent, but most of the planning, and door-to-door solicitations for

participation came from Mayor Chet. Each year, it took himcountless hours of solicitation, planning, coordinating, and

donating to get the Olde Fashioned Christmas off the ground for the hundreds who enjoyed it -- but barely a dozen Conestoga

Countians had any idea how much work it really took to pull it

all off.

*****

Truth be told, that same thing could be said about most of the

elements of a typical Yellow Springs Christmas season: it takes alot more to get it all done than most people appreciate. Last year,

Father Opus Magnus listed in St. Wenceslas’ weekly bulletin allthe people who had contributed to the season. Between the crew

who decorated the church, the carolers at the senior center, theyouth group kids who baked brownies for overseas servicemen

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and women, the Salvation Army bell-ringers, the shelter’s foodservers, the caterers, the nativity-setter-uppers, the choir member,

and everyone else who participated in the chores of the season,Fr. Opus thank-you list was so long that it looked more like the

Yellow Springs telephone book!

*****

Some seasonal tasks are less public. Which is why twelveyear-old Austin Oxthorn stared glumly at the blank, white screen

on the kitchen computer where his Advent assignment remainedincomplete.

“Mah-ahm,” Austin called, “I don’t know what to write! Thisis stupid!”

“Stop whining,” shouted his older sister Audrey from thefamily room. “I had to do the same thing in my Confirmation

Class two years ago. Just write anything! That’s what I did.”Audrey added, “I figured Uncle Godfrey would have to give me

a passing grade no matter what I put down. He’s the pastor – what’s he gonna do? Flunk his sister’s kid out of the church??”

“Yeah, but that’s the problem – you were writing for UncleGodfrey, but I’ve got to write for the Werewolf!”

“Don’t call him that!” warned their mother, Sadie, as sheascended from the basement with two boxes of holiday

decorations to distribute around the house before the

neighborhood progressive-dinner-and-carol-sing.“But he looks just like a real werewolf, Mom!” Austin

explained.

Audrey added, “You gotta admit, Mom – he does look like awerewolf.”

Sadie tried unsuccessfully to hold back her grin as sheexplained that unusual tonsorial stylings of their temporary

preacher were nothing to make fun of … even though his long, bushy sideburns and graying spikes of gray-and-black hair made

for a very odd, off-putting appearance. “Get back to work onyour essay.”

“It’s no fair,” Austin moaned to his sister. “You only had towrite one page, and Uncle Godfrey made it easy. We have to

type two pages of gobbildy-gook about parts of the Christmasstory that ‘Boring Stern’ assigned to us -- parts nobody even

cares about.”

“Easy, Austin,” cautioned his mother. “His name is ‘Bourne

Stern.’” She tried to play it straight, but her crooked smilereturned as she repeated his full name, “The Rev. Dr. Bourne

Stern, IV.”

“Well, he’s Boring Stern to me,” Austin retorted.

“Who did he assign you to write about?” asked his mother,trying to refocus her son.

“Some old priest dude. A guy called Zechariah.”

Audrey couldn’t resist the opportunity to show off the

scriptural literacy that won her the Blue Ribbon Bible FactsAward in her Confirmation Class two years ago. “Oh, you mean

John The Baptist’s father? The Jewish priest who went into theTemple by himself, and then the angel came and told him that he

and his wife were going to have a baby? And, like, Zechariahdidn’t believe the angel, because his wife and him were already

so old? And so, y’know, the angel zapped Zech and made him

mute until after the baby was born?”Her mother asked with exasperation, “Can you please speak

without ending each declarative sentence as if it’s a question?”

Sadie sat next to her son to try to lend a hand to the project.She was struck by the similarity between the Zechariah story that

her son had to write about and what her brother, GodfreySwench, had been going through lately. Both of the two clerics

had been informed of surprising family news, and while Godfreyhad not turned mute like Zechariah, literally, he had taken an

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indefinite leave-of-absence that effectively silenced his voice inthe lives of Yellow Springs’ Methodists.

******

For Godfrey, it all began a few months ago when his son

Jacob came home for a visit. After college, Jake had taken an IT

position with a pharmaceutical company in Chicago that paid for his MBA classes at night. When Jake had a three-day weekend,he flew back home.

Godfrey greeted his son warmly. “Hey, I thought you were bringing Kirk,” he added, referring to Jake’s former college

roommate with whom he now shared an apartment.

“No. We decided it’d be better if he went to see his family,

while I came to see you two.”

Godfrey began giving his only begotten son the third degree

about his quiet personal life. For years, Godfrey had thought thathis son just needed a little social confidence and encouragement,

so he began with, “So, son … with working and your classes atnight, do you have any time for the available young women of

the Windy City?”

Trudy rudely interrupted her husband’s interrogation, “Oh,

Godfrey, stop it.” She had picked up on something. Actually,Trudy had picked up on something years earlier, but how does a

mother talk to her son about something like this? “A youngman’s social life is no topic of conversation for his parents!

Jacob hasn’t been in the house five minutes and you’re all over him! Imagine if your father had grilled you like this!”

Godfrey grimaced. The only thing his father ever told himabout the birds and the bees was that he should read the booklet

that Dr. Dewees gave him, and stay away from the magazinessold at the used book booth at the Farmer’s Auction. “Oh, I’m

not like him, Gertrude! I may not be ‘The Shadow,’ but I wasyoung once – as you may recall – and I know what ‘lurks in the

hearts’ of young men.”

Trudy shared a silent, worried expression with her son. Shecould tell what was coming when Jacob said, “You know, Dad,

maybe you want to sit down. I’ve kind of been meaning to talk toyou guys. I have something to tell you….”

*****

And within just a few minutes, there it was. Godfrey blinkedonce, then twice. Then again, this time shaking his head. “You’resure about this?” he asked, “I mean, maybe if you ….”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Godfrey – just shut up!!” Trudyintruded. She hugged her son and said, “I just want you to be

happy. Be healthy, and be happy. ”

Godfrey sat stuttering incomplete questions. “H-h-how … w-

w-w-hen … why do you … but what about …”

Jacob offered, “Listen… I know this is hard for you to

take….”

Trudy interrupted, “Oh, Lord, son – don’t worry about your

father! This must have been so difficult on you to not be able totalk to us until now! I’m so sorry that you have had to keep all

this to yourself. That had to be awful!”

Jacob hugged his mother again. Godfrey stammered, “But

what about gra—”

“Godfrey!” Trudy snapped, knowing that the word

‘grandchildren’ was about to come out of his mouth. “Jake, dome a favor, will you? Could you run down to the pharmacy and

pick up your father’s blood pressure medicine? I called for arenewal this morning.”

Trudy pushed her son out the door then turned to face her husband. “Come, Godfrey,” she commanded, “We need to talk.”

“But … but this changes everything

,” Godfrey stammered.

“Godfrey, listen: Jacob hasn’t changed. All that’s changing is

that we are finally getting to see him for who he really is, instead

of for who we thought he was or who we wanted him to be.”

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But it wasn’t so easy for Godfrey to get his arms aroundJacob’s news. After all, for years, Godfrey had been the chair of

his the Board that vetted the fresh pastoral candidates for their adherence to the denomination’s stated social principles. Every

few years, the denomination might vote to amend the social policies, but it was always Godfrey’s job to enforce a minimum

level of ostensible adherence. And then a few years ago, he wasassigned by the denomination to ‘prosecute’ a woman minister

who had announced to her congregation that she did not concur with the church’s official position about celebrating civil unions.

Godfrey had taken the case up through the entire church judiciary, trying to uphold the traditional view of relationships.

He was quoted in newspapers and called for consultations. Andnow – now … his own son?

And so for the first time in his life – after three decades of study and ministry – Godfrey Swench was speechless. That same

day, he submitted a formal request for a leave-of-absence so hecould take time to adjust to what Jacob had told him – to think

and to pray, although for what, he was not sure.

The Bishop whose territory included Conestoga County, the

Rev. Dr. Bourne Stern, IV, granted Godfrey his requested time-off, but he shook his head at the problem Godfrey’s absence

posed him. There weren’t enough ministers to go around – andhe had none to spare as a fill-in for the Yellow Springs

congregation. Lacking any other solution, Bourne Stern assigned

himself to be the substitute. “I’ll handle the preaching and theConfirmation Class – gotta keep all the future members we can,you know! And when you think you’re ready to return, let me

know.”

At first, Yellow Springers kind of liked Godfrey’s

conspicuous silence. After all, they had been hearing his voice inthe pulpit for nearly two decades now, and many of them had

grown up with him in the village before that.

Some people hoped that their new substitute might be

someone to re-energizing the congregation, but the Bishop

wasn’t really like that at all. When you’re Bourne Stern, “peppy”isn’t really part of your constitution. Instead, the weekly

substitute sermonizer droned on about theological doctrines,schools of thought, ancient church Councils, and the need for all

local congregations to financially support the central services provided by his regional staff.

By the time the calendar rolled around to the four Sundaysleading to Christmas, Yellow Springers had grown bored of

Bourne Stern. Truth be told, the Reverend Doctor was prettytired of them, too. Advent was a busy time in which he typically

visited each of the pastors in his region, and carving out time towrite a new weekly homily had become a chore. Even more

burdensome were his Sunday evening meetings with theadolescents in the Yellow Springs Confirmation Class. Bourne

Stern had no recollection of what it was like to be twelve year-old, and he was overwhelmed by the uncontrollable energy and

sophomoric humor of the Yellow Springs protestant youth.

When he assigned a topic for the Confirmation Class kids to

write about for their Christmas essay, Bourne Stern harkened back to his post-graduate studies. Years ago, Bourne Stern had

written his Ph.D. thesis and two, thick theological treatises on acomparison of how the early part of St. Luke’s Gospel portrays

the responses to the angelic visits that were paid to both Maryand her cousin Elizabeth’s husband, Zechariah. Bourne Stern

loved the nuances of the two protagonists – one, an educated

clergyman, and the other, an uneducated teenaged girl. Herelished the subtle differences between the questions that the twoBiblical characters are recorded as uttering after an angel

surprised them with the news that they would each become a parent:

Zechariah asked the angel, "How can I be sure of this? I aman old man and my wife is well along in years."

and

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"How will this be," Mary asked the angel, "since I am avirgin?"

Bourne Stern treasured the contrast between Mary’simmediate acceptance of an otherwise unfathomable, fate-

twisting pregnancy proclamation – “ Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word,” – versus the

intellectual reluctance of the learned priest to similar news --"How can I be sure of this? I am an old man and my wife is well

along in years!" For her response, Mary was regarded as a paragon of faith, but, reportedly, Zechariah was rendered mute

for many months due to his cognitive dissonance.

The Bishop could speculate for hours about the life in the odd

household shared for three months by Mary, Elizabeth, and quietZechariah. And given his fondness for the topic, many people in

Yellow Springs were afraid the Bourne Stern might do just that

by preaching some long-winded Christmas Eve sermon on thesubject. Which might be why a sigh of relief passed around thevillage so quickly when Godfrey Swench called his boss a few

days before Christmas. “I’m ready to get back in the game,”Godfrey announced.

“You were fairly discombobulated when you took your Leave,” the Bishop remarked. “Tell me why you think you’re

now ready to resume your post.”

Godfrey summarized his several-month journey. “I’ve

thought about things a lot. I spent some time in Chicago withJacob and Kirk. I’ve read a lot – both pro and con. I’ve studied,

I’ve examined the issues as best I can, and I’ve listen to different points of view.”

“And has all that ground work allowed you to reach aconclusion?” the Bishop asked.

“I think so,” Godfrey declared. “I’ve come to a commonsense kind of approach.”

“How so?”

“Well, Bishop,” Godfrey continued, spiraling into his typicalinarticulateness, “I have to admit, I really don’t understand it all

– why some people like some people and other people like other people. But I love my son, and he’s a good man, and he makes

me proud constantly, and so even though I can’t understandeverything about why his heart pulls him in a different direction

than my heart pulls me, I’m accept him, I love him, I supporthim, and I respect that his life is going to be different than mine.”

Bishop Bourne Stern sat quietly for a moment. He consideredall that Godfrey had said. “Rev. Swench,” he nodded, “I agree –

you are ready and welcome to return to work!”

*****

Unfortunately for Austin Oxthorn and his Confirmationclassmates, however, Godfrey did not rescind his boss’

assignment for the Christmas essay. And Bourne Stern’s pious

passion for pre-nativity stories was well-counterbalanced byAustin Oxthorn’s deepening disdain for them. The ChristmasEve essay deadline approached, but no matter how much Austin

stared at the Biblical text, he couldn’t wring even a single drop of inspiration.

“I don’t get what’s the big deal, really,” he told his mother.“This whole story has nothing to do with, like, life today, you

know?”

“Really? You sure about that?” Sadie asked as she sprayed

some cleanser fluid on the kitchen counter and began wipingwith a paper towel. “I see a parallel right in our own family.”

Audrey asked the same question her brother Austin wasthinking: “What do you mean??”

“I was just thinking about you guys, your cousin Jacob, andmy brother.”

“What’s Uncle Godfrey have to do with this,” Austin asked.

“Well, remember when you guys heard the news about Jacob

and Kirk – was that a big deal to you?”

6



Audrey shrugged with fourteen year-old indifference. “Notreally. I mean, I don’t quite ‘get it,’ y’know, but as long as Jake’s

happy, what’s it really matter?”

“Yeah,” Austin chimed in, “I mean, I really don’t get why

Uncle Godfrey wigged out so bad – why he had to stop preaching and everything.”

Sadie thought about her brother’s reaction. “I think my brother is like Zechariah: he really wasn’t expecting the news

that he got, and … it’s taken him some time to get used to it. Butlook at you two: you guys just accepted the news about Jake and

took it in stride.”

“You mean, kinda like Mary?” Audrey half-giggled. “You

mean,” she facetiously fanned her face, “I’m just like St. Mary,the Holy Mother of God?”

Sadie laughed. “Austin, you better step away from you’reyour sister before the lightning bolts come flying in!” Then she

added, “No, seriously – I think that if the Werewolf – I mean,‘the Rev. Dr. Bourn Stern, IV’ – were here, he’d say that the first

task of Christmas is to accept the notion of an eternal, creative,loving God coming not only in the form of a human, but in the

specific form of a vulnerable baby, born to a peasant girl belonging to an oppressed nation of people.”

As their mother finished her homily, Austin and Audrey casther an odd look. “So,” Austin began with mock sensitivity, “I

guess we can say that ‘preaching’ just runs in your family.”

“Yeah, Mom,” Audrey added, “you’re as bad as Uncle

Godfrey.” Realizing how insulting that sounded, Audrey quicklycontinued, “Not that he’s ‘bad,’ really … it’s just that he’s

always … well … he’s always a little….”

“…preachy,” Sadie agreed. “He was even worse when he

was a kid,” she grinned.

*****

And so on Christmas Eve, Godfrey Swench returned to the pulpit. For his sermon that night, Godfrey shared aloud from

some of essays written by the Confirmation Class. He read fromhis nephew Austin’s paper, “The Bible stories tell about

shepherds and wise men and all sorts of other people whoaccepted that the birth of Baby Jesus was something really

special. But for Jesus’ mom and her cousin and that lady’shusband – they’re the luckiest ones. Some of us are like Mary,

who ‘got it’ right away, and others of us are more like Zechariah, who took a little while ‘get it.’ But as hard – or easy

– as it was for them to accept it at first, those guys knew that their sons were really special.”

Godfrey removed his reading glasses and set them on thelecturn. He looked out at his extended family – his parents, his

sister, brother-in-law, and their kids, Trudy, Jacob … and Kirk.Godfrey repeated aloud, “‘ But as hard – or easy – as it was for

them to accept it at first, those guys knew that their sons werereally special.’ ” My friends, I want to let you all know … so do

I. The task for us at Christmas is to receive and accept what wecannot yet understand.”

Godfrey had planned to talk more – he had several pages of sermon notes. But instead, he decided he had gotten it about as

‘right’ as he could, so he just stopped right there. Some peoplewould be relieved to have the sermon over with, and whoever

was expecting anything more out of him would just have to be

disappointed. He nodded to his son, then proclaimed,…“Amen.”

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Advent Chores