The Spirit of Christmas  By Erik Alsgaard |
In the last few days, I have witnessed two or three things first-hand that caused me to stop cold. The only thing linking these events to the others, really, are that they made me come to a complete halt. Something about them still makes me think. They won't leave my mind. Last Saturday was a beautiful day in Baltimore. The sun was shining and the temperatures hovered in the low 50s. Sheila and I went to Mt. Auburn cemetery in Baltimore, where hundreds of people from the community and the church had come together to clean this historic sight. The cemetery was founded in 1872 as a place to bury African Americans. It looked, in parts, like it hadn't been taken care of since. Weeds and brambles grew everywhere, sometimes so thick that you couldn't see the headstones for the trees. It was as if death itself had reached up through the ground and grabbed a stranglehold on this place. However, one weed-whacker and scythe-pass at a time, slowly but surely a living cemetery emerged. But everywhere you looked, it was brown or dull grey. Except for that woman, standing over there, holding the brightest bouquet of flowers I had ever seen. I walked over to see what she was doing. She told me that she was a member of Mt. Winans UMC in Baltimore, literally next door to the cemetery, and she had come out to witness the transformation. She was also there to help a person from California to honor the memory of a relative buried there. And so she had flowers. She carefully, tenderly, placed them next to the freshly uncovered marker in the ground and brushed off the remaining debris. Such a small act of love brought tears to my eyes. In the grand scheme of things, perhaps not such a big gesture. But it was a symbol of new life, new caring, new directions. It was the spirit of Christmas. After spending the morning covering that story, we ended up at the Inner Harbor, looking for lunch and a few Christmas gifts. On the way back to the car, we stopped to watch a busker ? street performer ? who was juggling knives atop a nine-foot tall unicycle. I enjoy this type of entertainer tremendously. Maybe it's because they haven't yet hit the big-time; maybe it's the give and take they have with the audience; maybe it's the audience participation. Whatever it is, buskers are fun. When what to my wondering eye should appear but 50 men dressed as Santa, drawing near. Really. The show came to a complete stop. The audience suddenly could care less about juggling knives. A herd of Santas was approaching. Obviously, this meant something. But what? Tourists began to snap photographs. A few Santas stopped and posed. A couple Santas were wearing red cowboy hats. One had a 'Bush/Cheney' poster on his back. And all they did was walk by. I found myself laughing aloud. The sight of a critical mass of Santas, simply spreading Christmas spirit by walking around, wishing people 'Merry Christmas,' brought joy to my heart. In the grand scheme of things, perhaps not such a big gesture. But I saw it as a symbol of simply spreading joy by walking around. How nice! It was the spirit of Christmas. Lastly, an image is stuck with me that won't leave. I was at the trial of Beth Stroud. At the end of the trial, after all the nice things had been said about Beth and all the accusations and charges about Beth had been aired in ways that made me squirm in my seat at times, the jury was given the case to decide. They came back with a 'guilty' verdict and then punished her by removing her clergy credentials. At that point, how do you suppose she reacted? I found myself asking, 'How would I react if I were in her place?' Would I break down and cry? Would I respond with an angry outburst decrying the injustice of this whole thing? Would I storm out? Would Beth? I wasn't prepared for what happened next. As the crowd started to disperse from the gymnasium turned makeshift courtroom, Beth walked over to the 'prosecutors' and the 13-member jury of her peers. And one by one, she thanked them. And one by one, she hugged them. In the grand scheme of things, perhaps this wasn't such a big gesture. Our reporting on this story doesn't mention this little item, nor did coverage in other media. But I saw it as something very important. Even in the midst of dishing out the penultimate punishment for a clergyperson (the ultimate being expulsion from the church itself), Beth somehow found the grace and strength to thank and hug those who had just performed the deed. She was able to reach out over the differences and say, it's okay; we'll continue on; I still love you.
It was the spirit of Christmas. | 
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