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The (Unofficial) Parable of Good News
''Now there were ... shepherds...'' Luke 2:8
And behold, during the monthly Parish Church Council meeting, an angel of the Lord appeared: 'There is born to you this day, a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord', the angel beamed.
The church warden flipped through the pages of his biggest, leather-bound books to verify if this was doctrinally correct; the vicar phoned his deacon ranting, 'Why am I never told about anything?'; Mrs Two-Tone-Cardigan, the church secretary, shot Gabriel a look of pure arsenic, 'How dare he add another item to the agenda when they still hadn't agreed on what flowers to decorate the vestry with?'
Angel Gabriel slipped away from the church chaos unnoticed. About six blocks up the street he jammed his toe in the door of a high-flying advertising office, 'Behold, there is born to you this day a Saviour!' The busy execs pushed a piece of paper around the chrome-topped table, 'Swaddling clothes you say? What brand? Who's endorsing the birth? What's the jingle? What kind of cola will the Saviour drink? Who are we aiming this Christmas at? What's the USP?' Gabriel shrugged and made for the window.
His next attempts fared no better. Politicians had to consult diaries. Celebs had to be certain of photo opportunities. Scientists wanted proof. Did nobody care that a Christ was born to them today?
Just then Gabriel looked in the gutter and saw a lowlife, hair wild as any shepherd's, 'Wanna hear some good news?' 'Sure, but I'm not anybody.' 'All the better for you,' Gabriel began.
written by Bob Gass
''Now there were ... shepherds...'' Luke 2:8
And behold, during the monthly Parish Church Council meeting, an angel of the Lord appeared: 'There is born to you this day, a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord', the angel beamed.
The church warden flipped through the pages of his biggest, leather-bound books to verify if this was doctrinally correct; the vicar phoned his deacon ranting, 'Why am I never told about anything?'; Mrs Two-Tone-Cardigan, the church secretary, shot Gabriel a look of pure arsenic, 'How dare he add another item to the agenda when they still hadn't agreed on what flowers to decorate the vestry with?'
Angel Gabriel slipped away from the church chaos unnoticed. About six blocks up the street he jammed his toe in the door of a high-flying advertising office, 'Behold, there is born to you this day a Saviour!' The busy execs pushed a piece of paper around the chrome-topped table, 'Swaddling clothes you say? What brand? Who's endorsing the birth? What's the jingle? What kind of cola will the Saviour drink? Who are we aiming this Christmas at? What's the USP?' Gabriel shrugged and made for the window.
His next attempts fared no better. Politicians had to consult diaries. Celebs had to be certain of photo opportunities. Scientists wanted proof. Did nobody care that a Christ was born to them today?
Just then Gabriel looked in the gutter and saw a lowlife, hair wild as any shepherd's, 'Wanna hear some good news?' 'Sure, but I'm not anybody.' 'All the better for you,' Gabriel began.
written by Bob Gass
