The Rev'd Jane Bearden
Christmas is a time of tradition. I'll bet that there is not a person or a family here tonight who cannot name in rapid fire succession 5 or 6 unalterable Christmas traditions – from what to eat to what to wear to what to put on the top of the Christmas tree. As we prepared this room I learned of traditions of Trinity, the tree bearing the gifts for gloves and scarves stands em[ty now, a marker of God’s Love lived out in this place. The Creche we just put together and the music we love. When I was growing up in Louisiana our traditional family time was on Christmas Eve. We did not go to church that night but we did gather together, around the tree to listen as my grandfather read the Christmas story and to pray. At some point in the evening we would all circle around the piano. My mother would play and we would sing carols. My favorite was Silent Night – Even as we sang - All is calm all is bright - my heart was racing with the anticipation of what was to come. When it was over - all bedlam broke loose as we bolted for the tree to wait for my Dad to call out our names so that we could open our presents.
This sequence of events was an unfailing tradition that I held in high regard. My sense at that time in my life was one of contentment – not just mine but of all people having the gifts of comfort, safety, and love all wrapped up in a beautiful bow - there simply for the taking because it was Christmas. Movies and books that told of Christmas miracles and dramatic changes of heart - where goodwill and love overtook the meanness in the hero's heart supported my belief that at Christmas nothing bad could happen to anyone. Silent Night Holy Night, all is calm all is bright.
But you and I know that it just ain’t always so. Each one of us comes to this night bearing the burdens of illness, money worries, hurts to to us and hurts done by us. We come bearing our guilt, our anger, our sorrow, our grief, and our pain. We come to this place because somewhere deep down inside of us there is this memory, this spark of recognition that this night is special. On the inside of the pulpit in that other Trinity in Boston there is inscribed a quote from the Gospel of John. The words carved there are “Sir, we would see Jesus”. Tonight is our opportunity to look into the darkness of this night and see the light of God shining through in the baby Jesus. Tonight as I preach, as you listen, as we gather at this Table to share a most sacred meal as a parish family, and as God speaks to all of us, we will have the opportunity to see Jesus even in this very non-fairy tale world of violence, war, hardship, and illness.
The story of Mary mild and faithful Joseph, of kindly innkeepers, joyous shepherds, angels and wise men is so comfortable, so much a part of our culture that as children and as adults, we reach out to grab the reassurance and safety that we all long for in the drone of the familiar story. We join the many Christians before us who see this story through the lens of our own lives, our own needs, our own dreams rather than looking at it as it stands on its own.
But the story that we heard tonight for the umpteenth time in our lives is not a story about "all is calm all is bright". From the hair-raising announcement to a young girl that her life is about to be turned upside down, to the inevitable struggle around marital fidelity and divorce, to a harrowing journey in the face of political and economic oppression, to the vulnerability of childbirth without the safety or comfort of proper shelter, to the surprise visit of other worldly beings for a bunch of surprised and trembling shepherds - this story is anything but safe and comfortable.
The lovely pictures we see of Mary and Joseph, all clean and tidy and riding on a donkey are the Mary and Joseph that we want them to be, but that is not likely to be a realistic picture of two Gallilean Jews – a marginalized sect - traveling in an occupied countryside through check-points and long stretches of isolated road, to get to a place where they would be asked to pay taxes with the little money they had and then turn around and make the same treacherous journey back, with threats of violence swirling around them. This birth of Christ story, in its nuts and bolts form is a story of courage, endurance, resilience in the face of seemingly insurmountable challenges for each one of the players in that Creche scene that we just assembled and for others too – Zechariah, Elizabeth, the Innkeeper, and those traveling wise men – each one dealing with their own life’s struggles and yet each one attentive, receptive, and accepting of God’s call to them. But above all it is a profound story of God’s action that brings about the arrival of a new world – a new time.
This wonderful story of the birth of Jesus begins with the words “in those days” It begins in days past, the old days, with chronological time, chromos, a time denoted but the powers that be and one that is riddled with fear and foreboding for humanity. Quirinius was governor of Syria, taxes had to be collected, people were herded like cattle, life could be squelched with the swing of a sword, hopes dashed by illness or injury. Rulers held sway by the use of violence and the fear that it produced. You and I might look over at that manger and see a bucolic scene. but for those who lived through it, life was anything but peaceful.
But as Luke continues something happens and this story ends in a very different place than it began. The story ends with “for unto you is born this day a savior who is the Messiah”. “This day” It is a new time, God has acted, a new age has begun. This day is no longer chronos, time driven by worldly events and powers, this day is Kairos, God’s time, A time that is shaped by the character and the quality of the event that took place in that stable 2000 years ago and continues to act to uphold and strengthen those who are beaten down by oppression or violence, those who suffer from illness or disability, those who have been rejected, discounted, or marginalized. This Good News should make those who would harm or oppress others for their own gain or power, tremble in their boots, because a new world has been ushered in and no longer is suffering and death the inevitable outcome for men and women. Instead with the birth of a child, powerless in Chronos, but a King in Kairos, a new reign of compassion and mercy and love is ushered in.
Even the way in which the announcement is made tells us that something new is afoot. No trumpets blaring, drums rolling from the inner sanctums of the palace. This announcement comes to a bunch of homeless guys out in the wilderness living with some smelly sheep. And the first words of the announcement are “do not be afraid”. Something odd and extraordinary has indeed happened. God has bridged the gap between human and divine. God with us, in the flesh, Us in God, redeemed by our Creator.
This night we have the opportunity and the privilege to set aside our anxiety and our fear, and to let ourselves be bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. This night we acknowledge a power that is greater than all of the fragility of life. Because on this night we look into the depth of our souls and we welcome into this fragile, precarious life of ours, a baby who is God.
Christmas Eve is not a time for theological treatises. Christmas Eve is a time to bathe in the soft glow of a reassuring love that comes from God. It is a time to let the smells and sights and sounds of this blessed season kindle inside of each one of us a desire to live our lives not in chromos but in Kairos. Not for power but for peace. As I began to prepare this sermon, I was intent on doing my best to take the advice written on the pulpit at that other Trinity to let my words show us Jesus. The man who occupied that pulpit was Phillips Brooks, the author of the words to O Little town of Bethlehem.
One of the less familiar verses goes:
How silently, how silently
The wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of His heaven.
No ear may his His coming,
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him still,
The dear Christ enters in
This night we remember that God has come as one of us with the intention to make us one with God. This night we have an opportunity to let God enter into our lives, to transform us, to share our lives, and to share God’s love with others. God has poured out God's self into humankind so that we who are weak are strengthened by God's all powerful, all encompassing Love. Tonight we remember a time of fear and unknowing that was transformed by God into the gift of Love for all people. Tomorrow we will walk on in faith and courage and in the awareness of the presence of Emmanuel, God with us and to proclaim that Good News to a hurting world. Amen
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