I read this story earlier today in a church newsletter. It is well published on the Internet with no known source. I hope you enjoy it!
This is a story of a young pastor.
His church was old. Long ago it had flourished. Famous men had preached from
its pulpit, prayed before its altar. Rich and poor alike had worshiped there.
Now the good days had passed from the sections of town where it stood. But the
pastor and his wife believed in their rundown church. They felt that with
paint, hammer and faith they could get it into shape. Together they went to
work.
Late one December, a severe storm
whipped through the river valley and the worst blow fell on the little church.
A huge chunk of rain soaked plaster fell out of the inside wall just behind the
altar. The pastor and his wife swept away the mess, but they couldn’t hide the
ragged hole. His wife despaired, “Christmas is only two days away!”
That afternoon the dispirited
couple attended an auction held for a local youth group. The auctioneer opened
a box and shook out a handsome gold and ivory tablecloth. It was a magnificent
item, over 4 metres long. There were a few half-hearted bids, then the pastor
was seized with a great idea and he placed the winning bid of $6.50.
He carried the cloth back to the
church and tacked it up on the wall behind the altar. It completely hid the
hole. Its shimmering handiwork was a fine holiday glow over the presbytery. It
was a triumph.
Just before noon on Christmas Eve
as the pastor was opening the church he noticed a woman standing in the cold at
the bus stop. “The bus won’t be here for 40 minute,” he called and he invited
her in to get warm. She told him that she had come from the city that morning
to be interviewed for a job as a governess to the children of a wealthy family,
but had been turned down. She was a war refugee and spoke imperfect English.
The woman sat in the pew and
prayed. She looked up as the pastor began to adjust the great gold and ivory
lace cloth across the hole. She rose suddenly and walked to the steps of the
chancel. The pastor smiled and started to tell her about the storm damage but
she didn’t seem to listen. She took up a fold of the cloth between her fingers.
“It is mine” she said. “It is my
banquet cloth.” She lifted up a corner of the cloth and showed the pastor that
there were initials monogrammed on it. “My husband had the cloth made
especially for me in Brussels. There could not be another like it.”
For the next few minutes, the
woman and the pastor talked solemnly together. She explained that she was
Viennese and that she and her husband had opposed the Nazis and decided to
leave Austria. They went separately. Her husband put her on a train for
Switzerland. They planned that he would join her as soon as he could arrange to
ship their household goods across the border. She never saw him again. Later
she heard that he had died in a concentration camp.
“I’ve always felt that it was my
fault to leave without him. Perhaps these years of wandering have been my
punishment...” The pastor tried to comfort her and urged her to take the
tablecloth but she refused and then she left.
As the church began to fill for
Christmas Eve, it was clear that the cloth was going to be a great success. It
had been skillfully designed to look its best by candlelight. After the service
the pastor stood at the doorway and many people told him that the church looked
beautiful. One gentle faced middle aged man, the local clock and watch
repairman looked rather puzzled.
“It is strange,” he said in his
accent. “Many years ago my wife – God rest her – and I owned such a cloth. In
our home in Vienna, my wife put it on the table only when the Bishop came to
dinner.”
The pastor became very excited. He
told the watchmaker about the woman who had been in church earlier that day.
The startled man clutched the pastor’s arm. “Can it be?” Where does she live?’
Together the two got in touch with
the family who had interviewed the woman. Than in the pastor’s car they started
for the city. And on Christmas Day, this man and his wife who had been
separated so many years were reunited.
To all who have heard this story,
the joyful purpose of the storm that had knocked a hole in the wall of the
church was now clear. People said it was a miracle, but I think you will agree
it was the season for it!