Sharing Christmas with someone who didn’t have anyone else with whom to share it was part of our family tradition – especially during the 1960s, when we were part of Yale’s International Hosting program, and during the ’70s, when we hosted Rotary students each year. We lived in Seymour, CT during the entire decade of civil rights and anti-war ’60s. Sometimes our Christmas guests included our own seminary student interns who were studying at Yale and could not return home for the holidays. More often we hosted students from other countries. A family from England, a Ph.D candidate from Sweden, a Korean couple – these were among the Yale students who came often to our home – including at Christmas.
Several times, we hooked up with a program that provided an east coast experience to students from midwestern colleges during their Christmas break. The students were bused east to enjoy sightseeing and a family Christmas. One year, Ali, a Muslim from Cameroon, captivated us with his charming accent, his willingness to play board games with our young children, and his admission that he wasn’t supposed to eat bacon, but “it sure tasted good.” Another year, we hosted a devout Catholic African who wanted to attend Mass on Christmas Day. My preacher husband (having conducted our services on Christmas Eve) escorted our guest to the local Roman Catholic church. Because they were late, the only available seats were in the front – so the Methodist minister and his dark skinned friend were highly visible to the lily-white congregation (the whole town was lily-white). There were no repercussions (at least not that day).
Another astounding interaction with African guests occurred during the mid ’70s, when Nigerian twins landed at JFK airport at 5 PM on Christmas Eve because they had missed their flight the previous day. They had come to study in the Midwest and had been befriended by our son-in-law, John, during his short-term missionary work in Nigeria. Neither young man had ever been out of his village. It was impossible for us to get to JFK Airport on Christmas Eve, so phone arrangements were made (with the help of a kind traveler at the airport) to transport the twins to our Staten Island home by taxi. Culture shock had to be mitigated by John as he pointed out that it was not necessary to wear an overcoat and knit cap to bed in our heated parsonage. Other reminders had to be made, but we all survived. The twins remained in the US, sent for brides, and their families have visited our family through the years – without overcoats!
Yes, indeed, a shared Christmas brings much joy!
-Janet Johnson
Sudbury UMC Lenten Devotions 