Thursday, December 17: Psalm 89:1-2
Sing? Oh no, I don’t sing. Don’t ask!
My favorite children’s picture book is Tomie da Paola’s The Clown of God, a simplified retelling of an ancient tale, “Le Jongleur de Notre Dame.” In the story, a boy who teaches himself to juggle joins a roving troupe and travels all over Europe performing a minor role in public shows. For years, even when the troupe disbands, Giovanni continues to travel and juggle until he has become old and audiences mock his age and his poverty. Finally, on a cold, rainy night, he finds shelter in the shadows of a cathedral where men and women in their finest dress have come to make offerings to the image of the Christ-child on the eve of the Christ-mass. It is the night of gifts, and after all the others have left the church, Giovanni slips in and creeps down the candle-lit aisle to look at the rather stern image of the child. “I have no gift to offer,” said the poor old beggar, “but I used to juggle.” And Giovanni takes from his bag the objects of his life’s devotion and tosses them, one by one, into the air—round and round, faster and faster—colored balls circling like a rainbow. Years before, he had been told, “All things sing for the glory of God. Whatever you do can be your song to Him.” So Giovanni juggled, but that night his heart stopped, and he fell to the floor. Only the sexton-priest saw the miracle—the rainbow of colors now scattered on the floor, and the golden ball resting in the hands of the smiling Christ-child—Giovanni’s gift of himself.
May we each find our own song, and may we sing it for love of Him.
Doug Watson