THE ADVENT CHALLENGE DAY 10
They Shall See God
A Reflection on “The Little Drummer Boy”
When I was growing up, the Christmas season — which began the day after Thanksgiving and petered out a few days into the new year — was a magical time in my family.
Christmas changed us. At no other time of the year did we love each other so well. So purely.
The smell of a live evergreen takes me back instantly to wonderful childhood memories. I’m transported to our living room some years ago. Christmas music carried by the voice of Bing Crosby wafts through the room. My father sits alone on the floor, bent over a tangled mess of green wires and small colored lightbulbs.
The Christmas lights were A Big Deal.
I know this because of the time my father took with them every year. They needed to be done right, not delegated. And so after an afternoon of wrangling the six-foot tree inside and setting it up straight in a metal Christmas tree stand — no small feat — my Dad would devote himself to the lights.
He’d sit cross-legged on the hard floor for two straight hours, nursing a glass of rum-spiked eggnog while unraveling tangled green cords, testing the lights, replacing dead lights, and testing again.
Once they were ready, Dad would carefully drape the green wires and lights around the tree, starting at the top and ending at the bottom until, finally, the lights were perfectly hung in place.
After turning off the lights, Dad would call the family in.
The excitement ramped up — the air was electric. Christmas was really and truly almost here.
At Dad’s signal, we kids would descend upon the box of ornaments and joyfully begin unwrapping them from their tissue paper cocoons. My Mom poured small glasses of ice-cold eggnog mixed with milk while sharing nostalgic stories about the ornaments. Dad manned the stereo and kept the Christmas music playing, sipping another eggnog while stealing adoring glances at my mother curled up in a blanket at the end of the couch.
And my brothers and I, in miraculous harmony, moved and danced around each other, unwrapping ornaments, remarking over our favorites, laughing and sharing joy while we hung the shiny balls and baubles all over the tree. We took breaks only to eat cookies and crack walnuts before heading right back to the task at hand.
For several hours, we enjoyed one another’s company and companionship.
There was no fighting, no bickering, no tattling.
Finally, the ornaments were hung, and the angel was placed atop the tree; my brothers, I, and Mom gathered together on the couch and loveseat, bellies full of nuts, eggnog, and cookies.
Darkness fell as the sun went down. A hush fell over the room as the song “The Little Drummer Boy” played from the stereo speakers.
My father leaned awkwardly behind the tree, and then — suddenly — the darkened room was bathed in the glow of flashing Christmas lights dancing on the walls and across our faces.
Love. That’s what I feel and remember right now.
In that very moment, as hundreds of tiny lights together overcame the darkness, love bathed the room — bathed my family — in a way I’ve only experienced a couple of dozen times in my life.
I didn’t know what it was then. I just knew something amazing happened every year on that night. All division melted away, and we loved each other as though no harsh word or heavy hand had ever been spoken or delivered.
Anger and bitterness found no room in our hearts.
*************
Earlier this evening, I watched the 1968 movie “The Little Drummer Boy” for the first time since I was a child. I wanted to refresh my memory of the story I associate with the song of the same name.
I remembered the song like this:
“Come, they told me, pa rum pum pum pum
The newborn king to see, pa rum pum pum pum
I have no gift to bring, pa rum pum pum pum
To lay before the king, pa rum pum pum pum…”
Other than those few lyrics, my memories of the song and the movie of the same name were very few. I could only recall a single image: a little boy with black hair standing before a manger, playing the drum wrapped around his waist, and smiling down at a baby — Jesus — laying in a bed of straw while a warm golden glow surrounded the scene.
It’s the perfect visual picture of worship.
And that’s what I was certain the story and song are about: worship. The act of giving whatever we have back to God, to Jesus, as a gift.
And that’s a wonderful message, to be sure.
But tonight, as the opening scenes of the movie unfolded, I realized I’d completely forgotten the backstory.
Orphaned by bandits who killed his parents, the boy’s anger and hatred for mankind had forced him into a life of isolation. He lived alone in the desert with only his three animal companions and drum.
A series of incidents outside his control — the worst possible situation for someone so filled with anger — led him into Bethlehem as a captive of greedy men.
In a twist of cruel fate, as the boy makes a daring escape, one of his beloved animals is injured. Immediately forgetting his driving need for self-preservation, the boy scoops up his companion and looks for help. A king he’d met earlier on the journey to Bethlehem tells him there’s only one in all the world who can help the boy and his animal — the newborn king born that very night, the king he himself has come to worship.
Although confused by what he’s heard (how can a baby help him?), the boy desperately pushes and shoves his way to the front of the crowd and comes face to face with the newborn king, lying in a manger.
While others are bringing gifts, all the boy has is his drum. And so, humbly, he offers the gift of music.
As he begins to play, the baby smiles at him. Suddenly, the little drummer boy’s defenses begin to crumble. His hatred and anger vanish. Love washes over him — pure love. Love born of God — carried from heaven to earth and back again.
Love that leads to forgiveness, reconciliation and peace.
As the boy gazes upon this newborn king who is pleased with such a simple and humble gift, he is changed. And in those precious and sacred moments, as he worships Jesus, the anger and bitterness he has lived with for so long can find no foothold in his heart.
And then — as a special gift from God — his injured animal is healed.
As I watched that scene and heard the lyrics,
“I played my drum for him
Pa rum pum pum pum
I played my best for him….”
…I remembered the pure love I felt that night so long ago as light filled the room. Christmas — marking the birth of Jesus — healed our hurts. Christmas love reconciled and united us. The love of God reflected in Christmas dissolved all bitterness and unforgiveness we may have harboured toward one another. For weeks, Christmas love brought harmony and peace to our home.
Just as love changed the little drummer boy, every year Christmas, love changed my family.
And many, many years later, God’s love changed me.
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