Christmas Thoughts and Coal Miners

Sitting by our Christmas tree, I was trying to think of a fitting subject to use for this special edition of the Herald that is probably stashed away in closets and trunks for future generations to read. In our modern age, we don’t think or hear much about coal miners. They risk their lives daily to dig out of Mother Earth a fuel that, while in great abundance as an American energy source, is looked upon with disdain as a “dirty” source of heat and light. Still, they dig.
What does that have to do with Christmas? Well, like those miners, we all “go into the mine” every day, there to “dig” whether it’s legal documents or preparing food, checking items or simply put nails in boards. Like coal miners, we leave our homes and loved ones each day, not knowing if there is to be a rumble underground that will shift tons of earth above us and we might never again see them. We can only hope and trust, hope that our “safety gear” is in working order, and trust in the God who made heaven and earth, only that and nothing more.
Most of us will never know the poverty of many coal miners and their families. Many of them live in rural areas of Appalachia. While it may hold allure for its mountain air and low taxes, it calls for inner strength daily from every soul and animal just to exist. Into such a desolate world was an infant born to Mary and Joseph. He, a carpenter we are told. She, well, we are not told what was her profession, if any, since women then tended the home and family. So, you see, while that young engaged couple lived in a desert country, they weren’t much different than families whose bread winners mine coal from deep in the earth.
I’ve known some folks from West Virginia, and they were a breed apart. I never saw one who was rotund, in fact, most were leaner than 85-percent ground beef, not much more than skin and bones. To a person, they were ingrained with an independent spirit, had the heart of gold and guts of a rebel, and each could make anything work, seemingly out of nothing. Each was more resourceful than a lighthouse keeper.
I imagine Joseph was a lot like a West Virginia coal miner, tough, had to live by his own guts and muscle, certainly not a “holy” man who spent hours studying the Torah. Instead, I imagine he faithfully attended synagogue on the Sabbath and otherwise observed that holy day of rest.
One can only imagine, too, the shame he must have felt once he learned his fiancé was pregnant, and not of his doing. Times were different then, when something like that happened, society did not just shrug and utter, “Oh well, things like that happen you know. And so what, she can get welfare for the baby and herself.” No, there were dire social rules that had to be followed if such a situation presented itself.
Like a tough-as-nails coal miner, Joseph most likely did not believe the message conveyed by the holy messenger, but a dream convinced him. He decided to acquiesce, let God have His way, and become earthly dad to that holy Child.
Like a mountain woman, Mary was used to a hard life. No running water meant women went to fetch water from community wells early in the morning, out of the day’s heat. Bread was baked at home. Clothes were made. Diapers? We cannot imagine it, but those “swaddling cloths” that the Bible mentioned wrapped around the Baby Jesus, they were certainly not velvet raiment, no, they were cloth diapers that had to be washed and hung out to dry. Think about it, no Pampers, no Huggies, nothing like that for the mother of our Lord. Just hard work and wood-stoked hot water to do wash, kind of like living in the West Virginia coal country.
As a man, I cannot imagine the pain Mary experienced on the trek to Bethlehem. Being “great with child” is not comfortable for any woman, but travel, possibly on a donkey’s back, would almost be classified today as “cruel and unusual punishment.” All that, plus when they reached their destination, there was no soft bed waiting, no clean lavatory to wash one’s face and hands, nor even a decent place to stay. “Out back” was where the young couple went, and where the baby was born whose birth we celebrate today.
None of it made sense, not then, not now. If we, mere mortals that we are, could “play God,” I am certain we would have a whole different plan. We might have the savior of the world escorted in on a plane, something like Air Force One. We would have a band waiting to play music, and maybe the entire world’s important people lined up to shake His hand when he stepped from the plane.
There was no such grandeur attached to Jesus’ birth. Just a squalling infant boy born to a young couple. Up in the sky, a bright new star to announce a royal birth. And yes, there were some scruffy, smelly shepherds working the night shift out in the pastures who were the first informed by a heavenly messenger that a special baby was born who was the Messiah they had long awaited. We simply have no point of reference to understand what that meant. But who were they to be the first to get such important news? Oh yes, there were also some kings from “the East” who knew something odd was afoot. They traveled to see this thing that was so important.
Nothing has changed since that birth so long ago. Herod, once he learned about this baby Jesus, determined to kill the boy, and put all this foolish religious stuff to rest once and for all. So many innocents died by his order. Today the government still has that Baby and everything He stands for, in its cross hairs. Many hate Him today as they did the day their heard of His birth.
Like a coal miner, Jesus was made of better stuff than the government could imagine. He lived His sermons. He loved even those who killed Him on a cross about 33 years after that birth in Bethlehem. We mark His birth today. If He owned a coal mine, we might be singing as a Christmas carol, “Sixteen Tons.” If anyone recalls the lyrics Tennessee Ernie Ford made famous, they ended with, “St. Peter don’t you call me, cause I can’t go, I owe my soul to the Company Store.” Merry Christmas.