the christmas discovery: a lesson in human dignity
Today we’re celebrating Christmas Eve. On this special occasion, I’d love to share with you a beautiful, little story that Dr. Norman Vincent Peale experienced one Christmas Eve and later featured in the SUCCESS Magazine many years ago.
The title is “It happened on Cincinnati Street” by Dr. Norman Vincent Peale.
I’ll share it from Dr. Peale’s voice and perspective, just the way that he wrote it.
. . .
Some of my most impressionable boyhood years were spent in Cincinnati, Ohio. I still remember the huge Christmas tree in Fountain Square, the gleaming decorations, and the frosty streets ringing with the sound of carols upon East Liberty Street, where we lived.
Our mother and father always had a Christmas tree with real candles on it—magical candles, which, combined with the fresh tree, gave off a wonderful forestry aroma, unique and unforgettable.
One Christmas Eve, when I was 12 years old, I was out with my father doing some late Christmas shopping. We were both loaded down with packages, and I was getting tired of it and a bit cross. I was thinking how good it would be to get home when a beggar—a blurry-eyed, unshaven, and dirty old man—came up to me and touched my arm with a hand like a claw. He asked me for money.
He was so repulsive that, instinctively, I recoiled. Softly, my father said, "Norman, it's Christmas Eve. You shouldn't treat a man that way." I was not remorseful.
"Dad," I complained, "he's nothing but a bum."
My father spoke strongly. "Maybe he hasn't made much of himself or has fallen on tough times, but he is still a human being worthy of dignity." He then handed me a dollar—a lot of money for those days and certainly for my dad's income.
"I want you to take this and give it to that man," he said. "Speak to him respectfully. Tell him you are giving it to him in the name of Christmas."
"Oh, Dad," I protested, "I can't do anything like that."
My father's voice became firm. "Go and do as I told you." So reluctantly and resisting, I ran after the old man and said, "Excuse me, sir, I give you this money in the name of Christmas."
He stared at the dollar bill, then looked up at me in utter amazement. A wonderful smile came to his face—a smile so full of life and beauty that I forgot that he was dirty and unshaven. I forgot that he was ragged and old. In that moment, he almost seemed courtly. He took off his hat graciously and said, "I thank you kindly, young sir, in the name of Christmas."
All of my irritation, all of my annoyance, faded away. The street, the houses, everything around me suddenly seemed beautiful because I had been part of a miracle—a miracle that I have seen many times since: the transformation that comes over people when you think of them as human beings, worthy of dignity and kindness.
That was my Christmas discovery that year: to realize the gold of human dignity that lies hidden in every living soul, waiting to shine through, if you will only give it a chance.
I send you off on an exploration to find the human dignity that lies hidden in every living soul. Use the picks and shovels of your love and kindness. Merry Christmas Eve, everyone.
