This Christmas I was given the unexpected gift of suddenly needing kindness from strangers.

The evening of Christmas Day I drove my spouse to the Newark airport. She is making a long overdue visit to South Africa, where she lived for many years, gained permanent residency, and has many friends and basically family whom she hasn’t seen since before the pandemic. There have been losses, there have been births. It didn’t make sense for our daughter and I go with this time, and it was less expensive for her to leave on Christmas Day from Newark. So that was our evening on Christmas, after a nice calm day of exchanging gifts and enjoying an afternoon dinner. Our daughter’s grandma took her to a movie and Rachel and I drove to the Newark airport.

After I dropped her off and said goodbye and got back on the New Jersey Turnpike, I pulled off at first service area to get gas.

At the pump, I reached into my pocket to pay. My wallet wasn’t there. It wasn’t in any pocket or anywhere in the car.

I had left it at home.

Maybe it was the flurry of Christmas Day after a busy Christmas Eve, in the midst of my spouse getting ready for an international trip. Maybe it was also a case of the absent-minded professor, which I can be, especially if I’m tired and not firing on all cylinders. Anyway, the problem was that, pretty soon, my car wouldn’t be firing on any cylinders.

Cue the prickle of adrenaline: I did not have enough gas to get home. I didn’t have the money to buy the gas. No loose change or cash squirreled away anywhere in the car. I was an hour-and-a-half drive from home, after nightfall. My spouse was likely on the other side of security with little time to spare to catch an international flight.

I did have my phone. But anyone I could call who could do me the big favor of picking me up was at least an hour-and-a-half away, and it was the night of Christmas, after all, so who knows who I could reach and who would be available for a three hour tour.  

I did have a payment app on my phone. A couple of months ago I had finally relented and joined my generation in that regard. So, I figured my best bet would be to try to find someone who had that app and who also had cash, and who also was willing to help me by arranging with me for me to pay them through the app in exchange for cash. The whole situation made me feel nervous.

The service area was big and surprisingly busy for Christmas. Suddenly I saw everyone in a different light, with this question of how would they respond to a stranger coming up to them asking for help, and for help involving money.

I spent a couple of minutes just kind of pacing around and thinking it all through, rehearsing in my head what I would say to someone, and then I just stood around for a while outside observing people as they came and went.

I felt my vulnerability in the situation.

So, I prayed. A little prayer. Just put myself in God’s hands and asked to be directed to someone who had a kind heart. 

As I watched people come and go and thought about whom I should approach, I figured it’d be better if I approached a couple. They would be less likely to feel intimidated than someone who was alone, and maybe it would be less easy for them to dismiss me. I didn’t like the idea of approaching a larger group or family – I didn’t want to expose myself to more people’s judgment than necessary. And better if I approached a younger couple – they would be more likely to have a payment app on their phone, plus I just felt less uncomfortable with that than with people who were older than me.

Finally, after watching people come and go outside the steps up to the service station, I saw a young couple approaching. I went with my gut and went up to them and said “Hi” and apologized and explained my situation. They were happy to help. They gave me $10 and refused for me to pay them back.

“Merry Christmas!” They said.

Yes, “Merry Christmas!” I blessed them as we parted ways.

I was relieved. I was humbled. I was happy to be soon on my way back home to put my daughter to bed.

I quickly realized that that I had received the gift I truly needed to receive this Christmas. It was a gift to me to suddenly become humble and vulnerable and needing help from the kindness of strangers.

How privileged I am to not be in this kind of situation very often. And certain privileges of mine made it less of a difficult situation than it could be. I had a phone and a bank account with money in it and I could offer to pay someone back. And if the color of my skin happened to be different than it is or if my clothes or manner of speech portrayed a different class, prejudices could have made it more difficult to find someone who would engage with me and believe me and be willing to help. It’s interesting to note that I was drawn to an inter-racial couple to ask for help.

Anyhow, it’s all humbling, and I hope it helps me to grow some in compassion, and willingness to help others when they are in need, despite my judgmentalism and blind-spots which too often get in the way.

Our faith, the Way of Jesus, teaches us that the Sacred is present in these moments of care for one another in their vulnerability, in our vulnerability, these moments of recognition of shared humanity across difference, these moments of compassion and mercy and generosity.

So much of the Christmas story is about who recognizes the Christhood of Jesus in his humble station. This is much of the story of the entire Gospels. And Jesus made it very clear that this was not for his own sake. So much of Jesus’ life and teaching is about recognizing the sacred worth of others, especially those who find themselves in need of help or mercy from others.

Jesus said, “That which you do to the least among you, you do to me.” And he meant it quite literally. He himself physically became among the least – he was born in a manger and in his early childhood his family had to flee with him to a foreign land, fearing for their lives; in his adulthood he hung out with the outcasts of society and would himself be cast out as a scapegoat. He literally and spiritually identified with those who are in need of compassion. This is a gift to all of us, to know that when we are in need, there is That-of-Christ in us, as there is That-of-Christ in those we encounter in their need.

Lord knows this is a gift our worlds so desperately need.

For in that moment on Christmas Day when someone saw and responded to the sacredness of my humanity when I needed them to, for what was really a small favor, my need paled in comparison to that of millions of others in that moment and in this moment who need someone to recognize their humanity and the sacred worth of their lives, as a matter of life or death. May we strive for a world where all are met with compassion and mercy in their vulnerable moments.

Jesus, lead us on the way.

Thanks be to God.

Delivered Sunday, December 31, 2023, by Rev. Nathaniel Mahlberg, at the United Church of Christ at Valley Forge

Image: “Fifty-fifty– Something better than rolling easter eggs.” In album: Washington, D.C., 1 April 1922 to 29 April 1922, v. 4, Herbert E. French, National Photo Company, p. 25, no. 18523. Forms part of: National Photo Company Collection (Library of Congress). Public Domain