Dispatch from Behind the Dumpster: A Christmas Story

I wrote this last year to complement the original post by Jason Chestnut, which you will also find below.

This adaptation, showing how God is found in dirty rags used to wipe up Slurpees and those awful 7-Eleven hot dog juices stopped me short.

This birth was not in a pristine birthing room at Scripps La Jolla. Nor was it in a warm home with a midwife and a doula and scented candles enchanting, with loved ones present to receive the Blessed child.

Their donkey was a feral dog, their sheep were rats.

Mary wore jeans she hadn’t been able to zip up in months. Joseph’s tattoos, visible through his stained white T-shirt and plaid Pendleton,

trembled as he held this baby–so very tiny, but he was consumed and aware with the weight of the gift Mary had birthed.

The shepherds, the custodians who cleaned the office building next door came, and the prostitutes all three of them in their gaudy finery, who spouted wisdom in the dirty Denny’s down the street after their work was done for the night, brought bearing gifts, their favorite gold earrings, the perfume they sometimes used to cover what the world would call shame, and glitter in all the colors iridescent silver purple for the royalty green for New Beginning red for fire.

The assistant night manager of the 7-Eleven brought out pizza and big gulps for everyone and they communed together.

And the poor people in the Forgotten part of University Avenue that had not yet been gentrified, not yet filled with $10 tacos and single malt scotch and shared workspaces and trendy salons; the poor people who were coming home from the third shift oh, the poor people waiting for the bus outside the 7-Eleven, they all felt a shift in the air and the brightness of a star above them and they were both chilled and warmed and knew to their marrow that there was a Presence that loved them too.

That night, they also received a taste of the pizza and the Big Gulp. And they were fed and filled.

And then the bus came and they went home, back to the two bedroom apartment they shared with the 10 people, back to the Johns and the hecklers, back to dumping the trash and cleaning the elevators for the workers who would come tomorrow completely unaware of the miracle that had happened behind the dumpster right below their cubicles.

Nothing changed.

But everything changed.

Merry Christmas.

___________

From Jason Chestnut:

In those days, a decree went out, an order from the rich and powerful, the ones with means, the rulers and despots: it said that the whole world should be registered, put on lists, placed under tighter surveillance.

Everyone went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph went also, from the town of Nazareth in the Galilee, south to Judea, to the city of David called “House of Bread” (bet-lechem), because he was descended from the house and family of David (this is a big deal).

He went to the forced registration with Mary –– a pregnant teenager he wasn’t even married to, y’all — and while they were in Bethlehem, the kid started really kicking. Mary’s water broke. The time had come.

And she screamed and breathed and screamed again, and finally her firstborn child came out of her, breathing on their own for the first time, given new life in a broken and beautiful world.

She wrapped him in dirty rags and put him in a manger, next to a filthy dumpster behind a sketchy 7Eleven –– because in that town there was no room. Door after door had been shut in their face, accompanied by barely audible mumblings, something about “illegals” and a “wall” and “ruining our country.”

Now in that same region, there were homeless sharecroppers living in the fields, keeping watch over their crops by night. The lowest of the low. And yet, suddenly, an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shown around them…and they were terrified.

But the angel said, “Don’t be afraid! I’m bringing you good news! Of great joy –– to you is born, today, in the city of David, a Savior who is the Christ, the Lord.”

The sharecroppers stood, dumbfounded. “To us?”

“Yes,” the angel smiled. “To you. Not to kings or powers or principalities. This news is for you. And this will be a sign — you’ll find a dribbling, farting baby wrapped in dirty rags out behind the 7Eleven. This is where God Herself has chosen to make a home. Right here. Today.”

Well, after this surreal scene, the sharecroppers flat out ran and found Mary, and Joseph, and that tiny li’l baby, wrapped in dirty rags out behind the 7Eleven. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child — and everyone who heard it was amazed at what these homeless sharecroppers told them.

But Mary, with a knowing and humble grin, treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.

The sharecroppers returned, glorifying and praising God — YES!!! — for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told to them. Yes, them.

— Luke 2:1-20, adapted


9 responses to “Dispatch from Behind the Dumpster: A Christmas Story”

  1. Rachel Avatar
    Rachel

    Reflecting on the times when I have have looked down on people who don’t live according to the middle class standards with which I was raised. Also thinking of how we have been conditioned to fear others, especially those who are poor,
    And to be suspicious of their motivations (as if they are raised to hate those with more and are groomed to rip us off when in fact middle and upper class training is all about how to game the system….) Thinking also of the messages I received about welfare queens and starving children in other countries, all of whom had a different skin color from me. How white washed the story of Christmas is, and how easy it is to imagine, after this indoctrinaton, that white Jesus is a savior for white people. How ridiculous! While I don’t really consider myself a Christian, per se, I will continue to strive to act in the ways the Christ of my understanding would. They washed the feet of prostitutes and communed with people of all backgrounds. Thanks for the reminder this Christmas, but agreed,
    This is not a once a year type
    Of contemplation…it’s a daily practice to remember that I am no better or worse than anyone else. I am simply human, and striving to be ever so much more so every day.

  2. Rebecca McClinton Avatar
    Rebecca McClinton

    In reading this this year I’m thinking on expectation and the romanization that I intentionally let cloud my view so I can sequester myself off from discomfort, and who and how that causes harm.
    I intentionally leaned into generating some discomfort with those I invited to Christmas this year, and I find I romanticized what I expected of my own reactions about how that would go for me. I had this idea that it would be awesome for folks of different political, spiritual, and sexual backgrounds to all be together. it is. What saddened me about my internal responses was that I was constantly worried how those who’s fabric was being stretched in healthy ways were doing, worried they might bolt. Reading this tonight reminds me how I was worried and internally protective of the wrong things. Desperately wanting them to see and be exposed to different views, but on my terms, more softly and gently. Ugh. Wanting to control outcomes, or the process. How quick I am to protect family who I love deeply but with whom I have limited resonance on many levels when it comes to praxis. While this wasn’t around racial topics, it could translate so easily. I think about how in this space we so often see whyte women like me trying to ‘soften’ things, and I see I have continued work to do in this area.

  3. Christin Spoolstra Avatar
    Christin Spoolstra

    Each year I look forward to revisiting this piece. This year I’m thinking of Laces new commentary, probably because we welcomed our first baby this year. Thinking about Joseph and Mary after everyone went home with their well wishes and the two of them are left with this baby and uncertainty. How in the day to day of tears and poop and sore nipples and endless worries it must have been so hard to continue to believe and work toward the promise of an angel who had come once so long ago. How hard it must have been to continue to believe and live toward that mission for their son who was also more than their son. As lace put in her commentary for this year, when all the hoopla is gone, will we still believe in our mission? Walk with relentless reliability toward the North Star? I can because of this community. And I also need to ensure that even when I’m alone in the dark I can still take step after step

  4. Shannon Avatar
    Shannon

    I love how this version of the story puts us in a place that perhaps we aren’t familiar with personally, but that we know of in a way that we simply can’t be familiar with back 2,000 years ago. Because of how it connects us to the people who are familiar with those places, who live and work in those places, whose lives are rooted there, it calls us to look them in the eye so that we can look Joseph and Mary in the eye. It makes it both ordinary and extraordinary. I know that for me, I have to keep reminding myself of this version to really get what the Nativity story is all about. It’s too easy to get wrapped up in “Christmas magic” when the humanity of it is where the miracle is. Pivoting to the racial aspect, this story reminds us to see Jesus and his family in all of our neighbors, especially those who are the most marginalized. But at the same time remind ourselves that a person doesn’t have to be part of the Holy Family to be worthy of respect – just in being a person makes them that.

  5. Shannon Avatar
    Shannon

    Yes, I love that painting and it was exactly what I was thinking of as I read this! I love how it brings the Nativity into the present day, out of the sanitized children’s scene that it is so often portrayed in churches.

    I would hesitate on the “salvation comes from the underclasses” though. It sounds like we’re trying to put our salvation on them – put them on a pedestal. I think instead of that raising up, seeing people eye-to-eye as Lace says, is much more important.

  6. Emily Holzknecht Avatar
    Emily Holzknecht

    *crossposted*
    “Nothing changed.
    But everything changed.”
    Every person has infinite value. A person’s worth is not made less because of the circumstances they are born into or the choices they make. We are all connected and have the capacity to feed each other and help our forest grow strong and healthy like the fungi in the ground that share nutrients between the trees so that all are well. The forest is not made healthy through hoarding.
    When I hoard, whether it is money or time or kindness and generosity or human value because the system benefits me more than it does many others, then I am not helping our forest to be healthy. The story of Jesus happens every day as Christina said and if I am hoarding human value, by not seeing the miracle of life and of infinite worth in those that give birth behind a dumpster or those who are born there, then I am failing spiritually.

  7. Christina Sonas Avatar
    Christina Sonas

    The powerful single panel comic, Jose y Maria by Everett Patterson, shows them at the moment of trying to find a room. Jason Chestnut’s retelling takes us back earlier in the Christmas story, to the point when the powerful order the census, for taxes, for control, to maintain the status quo, to make it more oppressive. And both retellings emphasize that the story of Jesus happens every day: children who bring with them the promise of equity and justice, born in dark corners created by the overlords, and with shadows of persecution and death upon them. The Nativity reminds me that salvation comes from the underclasses. It is their restoration — and, concomitantly, my relentless commitment to their restoration — that presages the best of humanity.

  8. Rebecca McClinton Avatar
    Rebecca McClinton

    This picture is such a helpful shift. I used to recite this passage from Luke every Christmas as a child. How the story has been white washed over time…the Brown skin has less melanin, the sherpard’s clothes clean and starched, the sheep fluffy white, and Mary, Joseph and the baby all welcomed with eagerness and anticipation, a stark cry from this reality painted. Those starched versions were more comfortable and easier for me to align with because they cost me less than the ones with dirty rags, and dumpsters. I’m certain that’s why they were presented to me as a child the way they were. I recently learned of and am interested in learning more about Black liberation theology instead of the white version of Christian saviorism I’m used to. This picture here aligns more with what I imagine Black liberation theology is about.

  9. Christin Spoolstra Avatar
    Christin Spoolstra

    This post has me thinking of the North Star (or, perhaps, the Star of Bethlehem). How when we do this work while not keeping focused on the NS, we distort the purpose and we cause harm. (disclaimer: I know I have my issues with religion as I experienced it being practiced growing up and I 100% recognize that not all faith is practiced that way, so I am being extra thoughtful with my words to hold my own hand and not slosh.)

    I think oftentimes certain manifestations of Christianity have lost focus of their Bethlehem Star and forgotten that Jesus was born a stranger in a strange land, the lowest of the low. That the angels appeared to the shepherds as well as the wise men. And it would be easy for me to stop there and turn this into a rant against Christianity, but that’s avoiding both the pivot and the personalization.

    As I want to say that Christianity has lost sight of the Bethlehem Star, so I must acknowledge what happens when I lose sight of the North Star. When I turn this antiracism work into checklists, when I look for the finish line, when I center myself, when I look for the binary and refuse to hold multiple things at once, I am steering off course from the North Star of lessening and mitigating harm endured by Black and Brown people and perpetuated by white people, white supremacy, and myself.

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