CHAPTER 36 A Moscow Christmas Eve
So Kathie and I were enjoying the privilege of serving as part of a Salvation Army pioneer officer team in Russia, immediately following Perestroika; they had been busy, heady and often difficult times.
One of my favourite monthly activities was leading or participating in the Sunday evening devotions at the US Embassy, a gated community in the centre of Moscow protected by high walls. A group of some 35–-40 expats, Americans living in, or visiting Moscow, would meet to worship each Sunday evening. The congregation included several familiar faces, including the Bowers, an American couple, both members of the Embassy staff and regular participants in our Salvation Army services. Mrs. Joan Bowers had served as our pianist during our early start-up period and Ron as a Sunday School teacher.
Visitors were always found in our small assembly; one Sunday there were five USA military officers visiting our evening service. All five belonged to the Association of Christian Military Fellowship and had been active for several weeks visiting and seeking to sign up Russian regiments. They were given the opportunity to share the Gospel with large groups of Russian military personnel, an unheard- of witness opportunity in the history of the Soviet military.
The MCF shared their hope with us over coffee at the Embassy canteen following the worship service that theirs would be ‘a community of individual military Christians in over 100 nations.'
The five US officers had learned that one of my Salvation Army- related activities was lecturing weekly at the Russian Military Academy, in a series titled ‘Introduction to Social Services’. They were eager to further their reach into the Russian military and thought I could be helpful in their gaining direct access to the Academy, the Russian equivalent of the USA’s West Point and the UK’s Sandhurst.
We arranged to have dinner that week, on 24 December. We met at a typical Russian restaurant, a decade before any Wwesterniszation and subsequent improvement in the quality of Russkie Stolovayas (restaurants).
The build- up of wind- swept snow and ice prevented the massive front door from closing properly, and we heard the Muscovites’ exuberance well before venturing inside.
We entered the rowdy premises, smoke-filled enough to sting one’s eyes. The Russian people’'s staple drinks, – vodka, cognac, and champagne – were flowing freely; the voices of the Russians were boisterous as they sang and toasted each other. They ha’d begun celebrating the lead- up to the New Year, an important Russian event, and some were looking forward to celebrating the Russian Christmas Day, on 7 January according the Gregorian calendar, which corresponds to 25 December in the Julian calendar.
As we entered, five well-decorated US military officers and the two of us in our Salvation Army uniforms. We must have been a very strange sight the Cold War had not yet thawed completely! Did more than one intoxicated mind think that the long-threatened invasion by the USA was under way?
The celebrant’ rowdiness became a hushed murmur and their glances suspicious –- we entered, stomped the snow off our boots, shook our hats and overcoats free of snow and presented them to a startled doorman.
We were escorted to our table and greeted with snickers of ‘Hello Yankees’ and ‘Nasdrovia’, the Russians’ courage boosted by the contents of glasses that were lifted and clinked in our direction!
Our menus were distributed, drink orders were taken, and we bowed in prayer…it was our Christ-mass table, thousands of miles from our families, celebrating what was Christmas Eve stateside.
As we waited for our meals to be prepared, our thoughts and conversation turned naturally to family.
Each military officer shared a brief overview of himself. One told how he had been born and raised in Chicago, going on to say that he became a Christian as a young boy. A ‘Salvation Army man’ had come to his home on Christmas Eve, delivering a parcel of food and toys to him and his siblings. His father, he explained, ‘had abandoned the family’ and they were living on welfare. ‘After passing out the Christmas gifts, the Salvation Army man asked my mother’, he said, ‘if he might be allowed to read the Christmas story.We sat at our kitchen table as he read… and then he asked my sisters and me if we’d like to have Jesus living in our hearts.We knelt there in our tiny kitchen, and he prayed with us, and Jesus has been my Lord ever since’.
I shared enthusiastically that I too was from Chicago’s North Side: ‘in fact, I went to Lake View High School, near Wrigley Field’.So did my sister’, he exclaimed!
I asked in what year had been the home visit from the ‘Salvation Army man’: 1960. I asked him to describe the uniformed man, to which he replied, ‘He was tall, maybe in his late thirties, and he spoke English with an accent of some kind’.‘Could it have been a Swedish accent?’I asked. At that moment, all of us at that Christmas table realised with free-flowing tears, that the man who had brought the gift of Jesus to that young boy, 40 years earlier on a Christmas Eve, had been my father.
The re-gifting of the story of the birth of Jesus, the love of God, to that young boy was the catalyst that was now bringing the name of Jesus to thousands of Russian military men and women, former atheists, and agnostics. The Name above all other names was being re-gifted.
My father had spoken from time to time throughout the years about my grandfather, reflecting on the sad ending to the Army’s unsuccessful campaign in early-twentieth-century Russia. The Salvationist pioneers had brought the Christmas message to Russia, but the Salvation Army’'s presence would be short- lived...
I believe my father often pondered whether those early efforts by my grandfather would ever find resolve and be reconciled with the scripture’s command, found in Matthew 28:19 (NIV): ‘Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptiszing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit’.
Here, in a noisy Moscow tavern, the resolution was celebrated on Christmas Eve, - 1992
Sven & Kathie 1993