(Note: I gave this address in 2001 on Christmas Sunday and post it here.)
I Heard the Bells on
Christmas Day
Binghamton Ward
December 23, 2001
“I heard
the bells on Christmas day their old familiar carols play, and wild and sweet
the words repeat of peace on earth, good will to men” (Henry Wadsworth
Longfellow).
It seems
that it wasn’t that long ago that we celebrated the birth of the Savior. I remember as a child that the time between
each Christmas seemed so long. Of
course, summer vacation went by much too fast, but the school year seemed to
drag on and on forever. There were other
holidays throughout the year and of course, you just can’t forget your
birthday. Birthdays were like your very
own private holiday. But all the other holidays and breaks and vacations paled
in comparison to Christmas. There is
something magical about Christmas, especially for children. Initially, it was the tree and the
gifts. As I got older it was decorating
the tree and eating chocolate or peanut butter fudge and drinking a concoction
of hot apple cider and orange juice or lemon-lime soda with scoops of lime
sherbet in it. I remember the first
night somebody came to our home and sang Christmas carols outside our front
door. I remember the first time I saw
Mother cry at Christmas. I remember how
she told the story of “The Other Wise Man” by Van Dyke and how I finally came
to realize that there was more to Christmas than giving and getting gifts and
eating and eating and eating. I came to
understand that there is a reason for the special magic of Christmas.
“I thought
how, as the day had come, the belfries of all Christendom had rolled along the
unbroken song of peace on earth, good will to men.”
I grew up
in a time we call “The Sixties”. Some of
you grew up with me. No, we didn’t live
on the same block or go to the same school, but you know what I mean. Some of you just missed the Sixties, for
which you should be grateful. Some of
you are parents of those who grew up then.
Others of you are children and grandchildren of those of us who grew up
then. Our parents grew up at a time when
a great evil was threatening the world.
A war was waging “over there” but its influence was felt
everywhere. I suppose that it was
inevitable, but the sleeping giant was awakened and America once again was
thrust into world war. The men and women
who responded to Pearl Harbor became part of that Greatest Generation. And, when they finished their task they
returned to build what arguably is the Greatest Nation.
We’ve been
at peace for so many years. Even when
we’ve been at war during the last half century, we’ve been at peace. No North Korea, Vietnam, nor Persian Gulf
would assail our shores. We would not
allow Cuba to be a staging arena for an attack on this great soil. Whatever the costs to keep this the land of
the free and the home of the brave, we have been willing to pay it—at least so
it seemed.
I can’t
quite put my finger on it. I’m not
certain when it began. I can identify
events and point to indicators, but something went wrong along the way. People began to forget the relationship between
responsibility and agency. They got
separated somewhere along the way.
Agency, it seemed was for free and there was no accountability, no
responsibility. The hue and cry was “do
your own thing” which has an eerie likeness to “eat, drink, and be merry for
tomorrow we die”. Like so many
generations before us who have inherited this land and had forgotten God, we
have been on a collision course with destruction. We have become a wicked generation. Much of television is not fit for
viewing. The Internet is infected with
viruses and pornography. Popular music
promotes infidelity and promiscuity.
Chemicals pollute our environment and many of our nations’ minds. Road rage is only a symptom of a greater
disregard for decency and humanity. For
many years our crime rates have increased, and though there has been a recent
downturn in crime overall, gang violence, school violence, and terrorism have
all increased.
For so many
years we thought we were safe since no foreign power had attacked our soil. While we were busy fighting Communism and
tearing down the wall in the East, we failed to fight the author of Communism
and let the wall of righteousness crumble in our own backyards.
“And in
despair I hung my head, there is no peace on earth I said. For hate is strong and mocks the song of peace
on earth, good will to men.”
Then
“Nine-eleven” happened. It has been as
though the sleeping giant once again was awakened. Out of that great tragedy we have seen acts
of heroism, kindness, and love. Acts of
humanity and decency seem to happen in the most unlikely of places. I have found people standing in long lines
talking to each other, not grumbling about the long lines or even talking about
nine-eleven, but simply talking and being friendly. People have engaged in little acts of heroism
such as holding doors open for others, helping others with large packages, and
saying please and thank you. There have
been moments of silence and days of prayer.
People watch the news and cry.
Flags seem to be growing like tulips in the spring. Words of solace are being spoken both by
political and religious leaders. For a
while anyway, it seems as though our nation is making its way back to God.
“Then
pealed the bells more loud and deep: God is not dead, nor doth he sleep. The wrong shall fail, the right prevail, with
peace on earth, good will to men.”
I don’t
know about you, but this has been an especially difficult Christmas season for
me. Each time I have thought of what to
give or do for somebody, images of crashing airplanes creep into my mind. Funerals for the victims and fallen heroes
replay in my mind. I remember some of
the personal stories that have come from this great tragedy. But, as much as anything, I find myself
reflecting a little bit more, a little bit longer. I don’t know about you, but I find myself
getting emotional over little things now.
I’m a bit embarrassed to admit it publicly, but I shed a tear the other
day while listening to “Snoopy’s Christmas”.
You know the song. Snoopy and the
Red Barron are engaged in aerial combat and the Red Barron forces Snoopy to
land and the Red Barron proposes a toast of good will to his opponent. One could probably assume that I am going
through a bit of post-traumatic stress disorder. If I am, then I am in good company. But I think that it is something else. Traditionally, we start the Christmas season
the day after Thanksgiving, but I think the Christmas season began this year on
September Eleven. The slump the retail
industry has experienced this Christmas season has less to do with the economy
and more to do with people caring about what is important.
Then it
came to me at night in a dream. The
occasion was the loss of the 116 pages of manuscript from the Book of
Mormon. The Lord spoke these words to
the Prophet. “The works, and the
designs, and the purposes of God cannot be frustrated, neither can they come to
naught. For God doth not walk in crooked
paths, neither doth he turn to the right hand nor to the left, neither doth he
vary from that which he hath said, therefore his paths are straight, and his
course is one eternal round. Remember,
remember that it is not the work of God that is frustrated, but the work of
men; For although a man may have many revelations, and have power to do many
mighty works, yet if he boasts in his own strength, and sets at naught the
counsels of God, and follows after the dictates of his own will and carnal
desires, he must fall and incur the vengeance of a just God upon him (D & C
3: 1-4).
I have been
on an emotional roller coaster since September Eleven. At one moment I have been angry and
unforgiving because my sense of security has been violated. The next moment I am warmed by the goodness
that has come from so many people during our national hour of need. What I have needed—what we all have needed is
something that we have had with us all along: the healing power of the Savior.
We have all
suffered the consequences of September Eleven.
I believe each of us has our own personal September Eleven though. There are those who sit here today angry at a
friend because of an unkindness spoken or upset with an employer because of an
unjust action. Some of you are sitting
here today, brooding still over decisions that were made at the expense of your
personal feelings. There are marriages
crumbling from neglect or because horrible things have been said or done. Others have lost confidence in the abilities
of associates because promises were not kept.
Consequently, you have closed doors.
You refuse to be hurt again and again.
And in doing so, you have closed the doors to the healing power of the
Savior.
I return to
my dream. “Who hath believed our
report? And to whom is the arm of the
Lord revealed? For he shall grow up
before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground: he hath no
form nor comeliness; and we shall see him, there is not beauty that we should
desire him. He is despised and rejected
of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our
faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried
our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and
afflicted. But he was wounded for our
transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our
peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have
turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of
us all. He was oppressed, and he was
afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth: he is brought as a lamb to the
slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his
mouth. He was taken from prison and from
judgment: and who shall declare his generation?
for he was cut off out of the land of the living: for the transgression
of my people was he stricken. And he
made his grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death; because he had
done no violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth” (Isaiah 53: 1-9).
On this day
during this Christmas season I offer to you in all humility two acts that you
must do to find peace from your own September Eleven. One, you must forgive those who have
offended. Two, turn your sorrows and
your griefs over to the Lord. There is
no other way.
“Till
ringing, singing, on its way, the world revolved from night to day, a voice, a
chime, a chant sublime, of peace on earth, good will to men!”
© Copyright 2002 Gregory B. Talley
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