The Angry Crocodile
Image by Sunguk Kim via Unsplash
A dictator pulling the levers of power. A supreme ruler demanding payment from the people he rules. An autocrat forcing the people over which is has absolute authority to hand over what little they have.
That’s how the story of the Nativity begins. That’s how the narrative of the birth of Jesus begins. We don’t hear about the glory of God and the good God is up to. We don’t hear about God choosing to come into the world in a remarkable way. We don’t hear a story that begins with good news.
Instead we hear about the ways of the world. We hear about how one person rules over others and forces human beings to be subject to one person’s power. The Emperor Augustus puts a price on his authority by demanding the highest tax grab possible. His decree requires that every single person in his kingdom, even the poorest of the poor, travel back to where they came from – no matter who difficult the journey – so that there’s an official record of their tax being paid to the emperor.
And we all know what that very first Christmas was like for Mary and Joseph. They had to schlep 90 miles. Oh, and Mary was nine months pregnant, and, oh, by the way, she rode a donkey the whole way while about to give birth, and when they got to this town in the middle of nowhere there wasn’t a room to be found. Mary had to give birth in a stable of all places.
The contrast between the absolute power of the Emperor Augustus and the absolute powerlessness of Joseph and Mary could not be more stark. One commentator writes this, “One might expect the birth of the Messiah would have a more pleasant beginning. Or at least one where it would look like God was in charge, instead of some narcissistic autocrat.”
Instead of some narcissistic autocrat. As he addressed the United States congress last Wednesday, in his first trip outside his war-torn country of Ukraine since the war began over 300 days ago, President Volodymyr Zelensky made a not-so-subtle reference to another narcissistic autocrat. He said this “We already built (a) strong Ukraine, with strong people, strong army, strong institutions together with you. We developed strong security guarantees for our country and for entire Europe and the world, together with you. And also together with you, we’ll put in place everyone who will defy freedom. Put-in.”
Near the end of this worship service, we will light candles and see “Silent Night”. We will light candles by choice – not to stay warm, not to provide the only light available, but by choice in the warmth and safety of this place, and we will sing these words. “Silent night, holy night! All is calm, all is bright round yon virgin mother and child. Holy infant, so tender and mild, sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace.”
And this is what President Zelensky said to congress and the American people last Wednesday, “Ladies and gentlemen — ladies and gentlemen, Americans, in two days we will celebrate Christmas. Maybe candlelit. Not because it’s more romantic, no, but because there will not be, there will be no electricity. Millions won’t have neither heating nor running water. All of these will be the result of Russian missile and drone attacks on our energy infrastructure.
But we do not complain. We do not judge and compare whose life is easier. Your well-being is the product of your national security; the result of your struggle for independence and your many victories. We, Ukrainians, will also go through our war of independence and freedom with dignity and success.
We’ll celebrate Christmas. Celebrate Christmas and, even if there is no electricity, the light of our faith in ourselves will not be put out. If Russian — if Russian missiles attack us, we’ll do our best to protect ourselves. If they attack us with Iranian drones and our people will have to go to bomb shelters on Christmas Eve, Ukrainians will still sit down at the holiday table and cheer up each other. And we don’t, don’t have to know everyone’s wish, as we know that all of us, millions of Ukrainians, wish the same: Victory. Only victory.”
Victory. Only victory. Peace, only peace. A child from Ukraine is interviewed by her mother. The little girl, named Katya is about 6 years old and living with her mother and brother as refugees in America. This video is posted on YouTube by an organization called, “What is Ukraine?” The title of the video is “What My Children Want for Christmas: Ukrainians Refugees in the United States.”
“What would you like for Christmas,” the mother asks Katya. She answers with one word, “Victory.” And then she asks her son who appears to be about 4 years old. “If you would wish anything for Christmas what would it be?” And this is the 4-year-old’s response, “I wish Russia would collapse like the Soviet Union because I don’t like it with all its putins.”
The older sister, Katya then shows a picture she drew. She points to a man in the middle of the picture. That man is surrounded by animals. Katya explains, “the man in the middle of the picture is Putin and he is surrounded by wild animals who are hunting him down. I,” she says, “I am an angry crocodile.” And then she growls into the microphone. Her mother asks her, “When did you become a crocodile?” And the little girl answers, “I became an angry crocodile when I was in the bomb shelter back home.” The mom then asks her daughter if she likes being in the United States, and Katya responds, “Yes, but it doesn’t mean I stop being an angry crocodile. I will stop being an angry crocodile only when we win the war.”
Only when there is peace, whatever it takes, only when there is peace will I stop being an angry crocodile. This isn’t what the prophet Isaiah meant when he declared, “For a child has been born among us, a son given us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace…” This isn’t what God intended when God sent us this child, this wonderful counselor, this prince of peace. There should never be a child, any child anywhere, like Katya and Tara who transform into angry crocodiles just to survive in a bomb shelter.
In the cruelest irony, Katya and Tara’s story is a gift to us on this Christmas Eve – a gift to remind us of what the worst of humanity actually does to children, to people, to anyone who becomes the object of another’s person power. No, there is no divine call to be an Emperor Augustus or a President Putin. No, there is no divine call to be more powerful than another. No, there is no divine call to be an angry crocodile.
Rather, on this most holy night, right under the thumb of the reign of an emperor, a ruler, a man who called himself a god, comes this most startling contrast – this most unexpected antidote – this most benevolent shepherd – a child born for us, a son given to us, he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
This child, this prince of peace will change that angry crocodile…this child, this prince of peace will transform that angry crocodile named Katya into another prince or princess of peace. That’s the good news tonight. That’s the promise tonight. A child scarred by war, a child traumatized by violence, a child forced from her home, is saved by another child, a prince of peace.
Tonight, on this most holy night, I invite you to hug tightly your children. Hold close your grandchildren. Hold close your grandparents. Reach out to your sisters and brothers. Embrace your friends. Give thanks for the gift of peace we enjoy, and then transformed, transformed by God’s love, transformed by the power of the cross, we become ambassadors of peace, and we play a part, we figure out how we participate in transforming little Katya from an angry crocodile into a Princess of Peace. Amen.