IT CAME TO PASS: A CHRISTMAS STORY

Bruce L. Reynolds

Except for the years he wrote for the Chicago Defender, little is known about Bruce L. Reynolds. His career as a short story writer and columnist for the Defender began in 1935 and ended in 1945. His writings, published in the newspaper’s national edition, were widely read. During the Great Depression, Reynolds wrote weekly stories that focused on the everyday issues African Americans were grappling with. In the early 1940s, he ceased writing short stories and became the newspaper’s national “Church Editor,” a position he held until 1945.

“It Came to Pass” is a traditional Christmas story that reinforces the power of religious faith, a religious cornerstone in African American history and culture. In the words of the apostle Paul, “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” It is a belief that God’s power is infinite. In this story, Edward and Ella, an elderly couple beset by poverty, lacking food, and unable to obtain decent medical care, share a deep love for each other and an abiding faith in God.

The story opens on Christmas Eve in a large northern city whose public spaces reflect the beauty and benevolence of Christmas frequently seen in the business sections of large urban centers. Reynolds juxtaposes the opulence reflected in the private and public celebratory displays of Christmas with the abject poverty and suffering of people like Edward and Ella. He demonstrates that there are two worlds: one highly visible world of privilege and one obscure world of despair and suffering.

In 1939, during a time when the world was beset by war and America was wracked by the Great Depression, it appeared that many people had forgotten God. Reynolds reminds the reader that God is real and that he answers prayers. Arriving in the guise of a doctor, Dr. Wayne, God heals Ella and reminds Edward that all things are possible if you “just keep faith in your heart, nourish it, cherish it until it reflects in your thinking and dreaming and doing.”

Edward and Ella represent the deep and transcending faith of African Americans, who survived the holocaust of the Middle Passage; the horrors of slavery; the unremitting struggle to survive poverty, lynching, and mental and physical abuse; and who fervently believed that God would also see them through the Depression. During a time of great poverty and despair, Reynolds reinforced the message of faith and hope in God.

It Came to Pass

It was Christmas Eve. The city was covered with a fresh blanket of crunchy, white snow, and more was falling. Christmas wreaths hung in windows and on doors. Passersby could glimpse many a brightly-kited and tinsled tree. In the public park was a Christmas tree that dwarfed the humans who clustered around its base, singing carols. In the metropolitan section, a skyscraper office building had formed a striking cross with lighted windows. The clamor of church bells mingled with the stately, beautiful melody of “Silent Night, Holy Night,” as played on a giant carillon in a nearby university. Hearts, unfeeling throughout a rather hectic year, were bursting with good will and good cheer and gratitude.

But it was another story in two bare, chilly basement rooms. In one of the rooms and ill [in] a bed, lay an old lady. Her suffering had pulled in her cheeks, and her eyes were like burning coals deep in two dark wells. At her bedside sat an elderly man in tattered clothes. He squinted through oval shaped glasses at an open Bible on his knees. And now he turned his eyes to the still face of his wife of nearly forty-two years.

“I can’t read any more, Ella,” he told her wearily. He closed the Bible disconsolately. “With so much going on in the world—war and the like—seems like we’ve slipped God’s mind. I’m not blaming anybody or anything, Ella. But when I think of all the money spent for tomorrow, I get a little shaky knowing we have about a dollar. Of course, we’ll get our basket tomorrow. Goodness knows I’m grateful for kind hearted folks. But you won’t be able to eat anything, Ella. It’ll be the first time we have not eaten together on Christmas.”

Ella turned her head slowly to face him. “I’m sorry to spoil things, Edward.” Her voice was just a whisper. “But I can’t seem to hold a thing on my stomach.”

“If you only had decent medical treatment,” old Edward muttered. “The city doctor is all right. But he admits there isn’t much he can do. Besides, he has so many calls to make, he can’t take up much time with any one patient. Oh, Ella, if we could only get that specialist, Dr. Wayne, to come out. I know he could do something. The city doctor said he could. He’s the best in the city.”

Ella closed her eyes. “But he’s a rich doctor. They say he charges five dollars a visit. He has no time for poverty stricken old folks like us. You called him twice. Each time he flatly refused to see me.”

“Yes. He told us to see the city doctor.”

There was a knock on the door. Edward looked quizzically at his wife.

“Wonder who that is?”

“Maybe it’s that nice couple down the street, Edward.”

He went to the door and opened it. A man stood smiling. He carried a small bag in one hand.

“You’ve been trying to contact Dr. Wayne,” the man said, coming in. He opened his coat to shake off the snow. “I have come. Where is the patient?”

Old Edward fell upon his knees at the man’s feet. “Thank God you’ve come, Dr. Wayne. Everybody seems to think you can do what others can’t.” He rose. “Let me help you out of your coat.” He touched the doctor’s arm.

Dr. Wayne shook his head. “That won’t be necessary.”

Old Edward jerked his hand back as though he had touched a live wire. For a moment he stared incredulously into the doctor’s eyes. The uncertain light from a lamp fell across the doctor’s face, revealing that his eyes were his most singular feature. They baffled description. They were not like eyes, it seemed. Rather, more like windows, across which a veil had been drawn.

“You wait here,” Dr. Wayne told the old man. He went into Ella’s room and closed the door.

Edward sat down and waited. That look of incredulity was still on his face. What manner of man was this Dr. Wayne? He had no sense of time. But he got to his feet when the doctor came out of Ella’s room.

“Your wife wants to see you,” he said. “Don’t worry about tomorrow. She will be able to eat with you.”

“How did you know—”

“Just keep faith in your heart. Nourish it, cherish it until it reflects in your thinking and dreaming and doing.”

“What a strange thing for a doctor to say,” Edward murmured.

“But not strange for me,” the doctor said. “And now I must be going. Merry Christmas to you.”

With that, he opened the door and was gone. Edward looked down at the steps leading out of his basement rooms. He blinked his eyes hard. Grass seemed to be growing out of the doctor’s footsteps in the snow! Edward closed the door and hurried to his wife’s side. He found her sitting up in bed, reading the Bible. She had not been able to sit up in bed for three months! He fell upon his knees by the bed.

“Ella—Ella, who was that?”

She smiled at him. “What does your heart tell you? You saw his eyes, Edward. You see me now.”

“I touched his arm, Ella,” he remembered. “I saw grass growing in the snow where he walked. Ella—”

Some carolers were singing outside. It was “Joy To The World.” Understanding dawned upon Edward. His eyes filled as he found Ella’s hand. Their faces were radiant. Their eyes met in mutual and glorious acknowledgment.

“He came to our bare rooms to give us the greatest Christmas gift of all.”

“Yes, Edward. But remember, he was born in a manger.”