A Broun Christmas lesson: ‘Even to Judas’

Bill Knight column for Dec. 20, 21 or 22

Heywood Broun is remembered as a celebrated columnist, author and playwright, a socialist and founder and first president of The Newspaper Guild labor union. Besides his progressive views, his passions ranged from sports and books to poker and, especially, Christmas.

            In his career Broun worked as a sportswriter, critic, war correspondent and columnist for the likes of ex-gunfighter and sports editor Bat Masterson at the New York Morning Telegraph, for the conservative New York Tribune and Pulitzer’s liberal New York World, plus Scripps-Howard’s Telegram, which syndicated his column, and the Post, which printed one of his pieces before he unexpectedly died at the age of 51.

            Inducted into both the National Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, N.Y., and the International Labor Hall of Fame in Detroit, Broun was eulogized by Mine Workers head John L. Lewis, Bishop Fulton J. Sheen, actor Edgar G. Robinson, and author Lewis Gannett, who said, “It was precisely because Heywood played the races, visited the bread lines, produced a Broadway play, ran for Congress, walked picket lines, organized the Guild, and joined a church that he and his column stayed young.”

            Also ageless are his Christmas columns, often printed independently in addition to newspapers, such as the following excerpt published in the New York World-Telegram 80 years ago this week, when President Roosevelt also read it live on the radio that Christmas Eve. It’s called “Even to Judas” –

            We were sitting in a high room above the chapel and although it was Christmas Eve my friend the pastor seemed troubled. That was strange, for he was a man extremely sensitive to the festivities of his faith.

            The joys and sorrows of Jesus were not to him events of a remote past, but more current than headlines in the newspapers. At Christmas he seems actually to hear the voice of the herald angels.

            He is an old man, but this was the first time the Nativity failed to rouse him to ecstasy. Something was wrong.

            “Tomorrow,” he said, “I must go down into that chapel and preach a Christmas sermon. I must speak of peace and good will toward men. I know that our world is one of war and hate. Others keep insisting that before there can be brotherhood there must be the bashing of heads. You are all for good will to men, but you want to note very many exceptions.  I am still hoping and praying that in the great love of God, the final seal of interdiction must not be put on even one. You may laugh, but right now I am wondering about how Christmas came to Judas Iscariot.”   

            It is the habit of my friend, when he is troubled by doubts, to reach for the Book, and he did so. He said, “Will you assist me in a little experiment? I’ll close my eyes and you hold out the Bible to me. I will open it at random and run my fingers down a page. You read me the text which I blindly select.”

            I did as he told me and he happened on the 26^th chapter of St. Matthew and the 24^th verse. I felt sorry for him, for this was not part of the story of the Birth of Christ, but instead an account of the great betrayal.

            “Read what it says,” asked the clergyman.

            I did: “Then Judas, which betrayed Him, answered and said, ‘Master, is it I?’ He said unto him, ‘Thou hast said’.”

            My friend frowned. Then he looked at me -- in triumph.

            “My hand is not as steady as it used to be,” he said. “You should have taken the lower part of my finger and not the top. Read the 27^th verse. It is not an eighth of an inch away. Read what it says.

            And I read, “And He took the cup and gave thanks and gave it to them, saying, ‘Drink ye, all of it’.”

            “Mark that!” cried the old man exultantly. “Not even to Judas, the betrayer, was the wine of life denied. I can preach my Christmas sermon now, and my text will be ‘Drink ye all of it.’ Good will toward men means good will to every last one of us.

            “Peace on Earth means peace to Pilate, peace to the thieves on the cross, and peace to poor Iscariot.”

            I was glad, for he had found Christmas, and I saw by his face that once more he heard the voice of the herald angels.

            Merry Christmas!