Thanks to Charlie Brown, most of us have been convinced that we ought to be in search of the meaning of Christmas. We already know what Christmas is: the celebration of the Incarnation of God in the fact of the birth of Jesus. But because it has become so commercialized, Christmas seems to be easily trivialized. And so we have been convinced of the need to look deeper for its meaning. And you never know where that search for the meaning of Christmas might lead you.
I was surprised to discover that it could lead me to the Royal Tank Regiment in Bovington, in the south of England, where I traveled last month with the First Troop Philadelphia City Cavalry, whose men I serve as a chaplain.
At the Royal Tank Regiment, I was surprised to learn some important but esoteric and potentially life-saving information. Frankly, I wondered at first if this information could ever be of any use to me. Christmas makes me think that it could certainly be of use to someone. Let me try to explain. The information was shared with us by an expert in military history at the Tank Museum, which is just down the road from the Tank Regiment HQ. On being introduced to tanks in large numbers, I quickly realized the my chief interest in tanks is in learning how to turn them off. So I was very pleased indeed to pick up this valuable piece of information at the Tank Museum. What I learned was this: how to disable a tank.
In truth, I only learned how to disable one specific type of tank: the T72. But the T72 happens to be one of the most commonly used tanks in the Russian Army. About 25,000 of them were built in the former Soviet bloc, and I’m told the Russians have about 9,000 of them, still.
It seems the T72 has a blind spot directly behind it, so that if it is advancing with its turret (and its gun) pointed forward, the crew can’t see someone sneaking up from behind. This is handy to know. More to the point - and I am a little fuzzy on the details here (I should have been taking notes) - apparently, unless the tank has fully and freshly charged batteries (which I’m told is not the norm for tanks in the field), for some reason or other, the tank’s water supply is required in order for it to start. This was explained to us, but, as I say, I wasn’t taking notes.* And if I remember correctly, on the back of a T72 tank, on the right-hand side, as you look at it, from your sneaking-up-on-them vantage point, at about chest height, there is a little nut, or screw-cap, or bolt-head, maybe a little less than an inch across. And if you can open up that little nut, or screw-cap, or bolt-head, using a knife or a screw-driver, or a Leatherman multi-tool, then you can pretty easily drain the water from the system - water that is crucially needed in order to start the tank. All you’d need is some plastic tubing. And what I’m told is this: that if the water has been drained from that little access point, and the batteries are not like-new, then the operator of that tank will not be able to start the tank when they want to. I am not making this up; this is an actual fact. And a tank that cannot start is a tank that cannot go anywhere. And a tank that cannot go anywhere is a tank that has been largely disabled.
Now, I do not know that I will ever be in a position to use this knowledge, which seems actually kind of difficult to come by, and yet potentially extremely useful, maybe even life-saving. And so I am passing it on to you, dear friends in Christ, and to anyone else who can hear me… just in case the information might come in handy for you some day!
I call a sermon like this practical religion.
There’s a part of me that wants to spend Christmas recruiting a band of acolytes to come with me around the world, armed only with Leatherman multi-tools, sneaking up behind T72 tanks and disabling them. That would be a crusade I could get behind!
Of course, if you got good at disabling one kind of tank, you might start to wonder if you could disable other models too. And eventually, if you came from a nation with a mighty army, you would not only dream about disabling the weapons of the enemy, you’d start to imagine that your own tanks might be better off standing still, too. This is a risk of being taught how to disable a tank: it could become addictive. You’d surely grow to like it, wouldn’t you?
So I’m sharing this esoteric knowledge, which consists of information that I don’t know what to do with. I take it seriously, and want to make known what has been told to me about these tanks, in case you ever need to disable a tank, or in case there is someone listening from far away, who could disable a tank this very Christmas, and bring a little more peace into the world.
Come with me now to Bethlehem, where the shepherds have heard the message of the angel and the singing of the multitude of the heavenly host. What the shepherds found when they arrived at the manger in Bethlehem, was, in fact, not an unusual sight. They found a newborn child, with his parents, in a certain amount of discomfort. The shepherds had assisted at many births during lambing season, and probably a few childbirths at home, too. And the circumstances they found by the manger in Bethlehem were less than perfect. Parents unmarried and unprepared. Stuck in the shed out back. The baby clothed not in radiant beams of heavenly light, but in ordinary swaddling bands that might not keep him warm enough. What the shepherds found in Bethlehem may not have quite lived up to the hype the angels gave it. But of course, it also amounted to precisely the sign the shepherds were told they would find when they got there.
When they arrived, maybe they knelt beside the manger and cooed at the little baby there. Maybe there was a shepherd among who encouraged his friends to gather there at the manger with him, and bow their heads, and say a prayer, thanking God for this child, and praying that God would protect the little baby and his parents, all of whom were clearly in need of a bit of protection. Maybe they put their arms around each other’s shoulders as they knelt there, or maybe they held hands, linking up with each other, and with Mary and Joseph, too, as they said their prayers, and concluded them saying, “Amen. Amen. Amen,” on that not-quite-silent night.
As they departed, maybe one of the other shepherds, asked of his friends, “Guys, didn’t that seem awfully normal to you? I mean I know that the angel was terrifying and everything, but where’s the good news of great joy to all people? Sure, every child gives glory to God; but seriously, what was that multitude of the heavenly host going on about? It’s a baby… in a manger. I mean, come on…”
But maybe another shepherd (the one who prayed?) replied, “My friends, what we have seen tonight we may not completely understand or comprehend, but we know this: that this Child is a gift from God, and that he will be our Savior, our Messiah, and our living Lord. The prophets foretold that such a One, anointed by God, would come. They said that he would bring righteousness, that he would bring forgiveness, that he would bring healing, and that he would bring peace. In fact, they called him the Prince of Peace. And somewhere they said that a little child would lead us into God’s promises for us. It’s true that this situation is confusing and a bit unclear. It’s true that we seem to have been supplied with a revelation the meaning of which is uncertain to us. It’s true that we have information that we don’t know what to do with. But I say we take the angel seriously, and make known what has been told to us about this child. Even if we don’t yet know what the meaning of it is, for it sounds like good news to me!”
And when they told people about what they had seen, St. Luke tells us, “all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them.” The shepherds, despite all that is unclear to them, seem to have grasped the meaning of Christmas. So, what is it?
Maybe it’s something like this: You’re there at the manger, and you have been given this piece of esoteric information that doesn’t entirely make sense to you, and you can’t quite see how you could make use of it, but it does seem like it could be important information, at the right time and in the right circumstances.
As I reflected on the information I acquired at the Tank Musuem, I had the sensation that it was somehow similar: that I had been given this piece of esoteric information that didn’t entirely make sense to me, and that I couldn’t quite see how I could make use of it, but it did seem like it could be important information, at the right time and in the right circumstances.
Look, I know it seems absurd that I purport to be sharing with you actual and legitimate information on how to disable a tank. But I promise you that what I have told you is true. And I know for a fact there are people in the world for whom this information could be life-saving at this very moment.
And to many it seems absurd that I purport to be sharing with you actual and legitimate information about the Savior of the world! But I promise you that what I am telling you is true. And I know for a fact that there are people in the world for whom this information could be life-saving at this very moment: that to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord!
I know that to many, many people this information doesn’t entirely make sense, and that they can’t quite see how they could make use of it. But I promise you that at the right time, and in the right circumstances, this is just exactly the information you need, and it will save your life!
Let me put it another way. Yes, I want you to know how to disable a tank if you ever need to. But more importantly, I want you to know how to kneel at the crib of this child Jesus, who was born to bring righteousness, who was born to bring forgiveness, who was born to bring healing, who was born to bring peace. And I want you to know how to take him into your heart.
Of course, it breaks my heart to think on Christmas Eve that there are tanks that need to be disabled. In a way, it breaks my heart that I know how to disable a tank. At least, I know how to disable a stationary T72, with less-than-new batteries, and an engine that hasn’t been started yet, provided I can sneak up from behind while the turret is facing forward, and I happen to have a Leatherman multi-tool with me, and some plastic tubing.
Lucky for me, the possibility that I will ever need to disable a tank - a T72 or any other kind - is pretty remote. Not everyone is so lucky.
But I already know that I need a Savior, a Messiah, a living Lord. The better I know myself, the more I know how much I need God. And I already know that the rest of the world needs a Savior, a Messiah, a Lord. I know this because of the tanks, you see, among other reasons. I know that we need a Prince of Peace.
And I suppose that that’s the meaning of Christmas: when, like a shepherd, you realize that the gift you have been given of knowing Jesus is a gift that seems strange, and confusing, and you are not always sure what to do with it. But you know somehow that something very important has been given to you, and that what you know could save someone’s life, could save your own life, and might even bring peace to the world, if only we could tell enough people about it, and get it into all the right hands, and find ways to spread it even more effectively: we could disable all the tanks, and we could beat them into these incredible plowshares.
And on Christmas Eve, we remember that we don’t need to sneak up behind anyone to share this good news. We can stand on our feet, stay up late at night, and sing at the top our lungs the same songs the angels sang.
And some day, with nothing but a Christmas carol, maybe that’s how we’ll disable all the tanks!
I don’t know for sure, Charlie Brown, but I sure hope that’s at least a part of the meaning of Christmas!
Preached by Fr. Sean Mullen
Christmas Eve 2022
Saint Mark’s, Locust Street, Philadelphia
It transpires that it may be the case that the release of the little nut or screw-cap or bolt-head may actually empty compressed air that the tank requires to start without fresh batteries. A Trooper who as paying closer attention than me, has pointed this out, and it actually sounds correct to me. The fact remains that if you opened that seal you’d accomplish the task of disabling the tank. You wouldn’t even need plastic tubing!
A Russian T72 tank