And then keep going
Christmas Eve | Luke 2:1-20
Merry Christmas!
It is good to be with you this evening to celebrate the birth, the incarnate one, blessed savior, Jesus, Son of God and Child of Humanity.
This is a joyous, festival day! It is rich with both family and church traditions; memories, comforts, longings, and beautiful events.
There are few times in our lives when we can gather with others knowing the person on one side of us might be feeling the warmth of family present and on the other, the coolness of mourning the loss of dear ones.
But we come together anyway. Because there is a kind of grace we can’t get from a tree surrounded with gifts or from an empty apartment. A grace that we find together.
So we hear the stories and sing carols, ring bells and share in communion because we know there is more to this day than gifts and nostalgia.
We receive the grace of God in Jesus.
And we are reminded that everyone else does too.
Everybody/Nobodies
The gospel story from Luke reflects a beautiful confluence—people of place and no place.
We faithfully recall the angel coming to Mary and offering her good news—it is shocking news, and not what we usually think of as “good news” outside of church. And it is quite scandalous that we dare call it good news, let alone the Good News of Jesus Christ.
That he would be born this way.
And we recall Mary’s faithful response. Not only in saying yes. But in declaring it as a matter of faith. As proof of God’s character. That God would make this request of her, someone of so little consequence to the world. God was telling her how great of consequence she is to God.
We remember Joseph’s stoic response, protecting Mary and the family. In spite of tradition.
And we hear once again of traveling (while so very pregnant), of coming to find warmth and intimacy in a place so far from home.
And then, when the baby is born, the angels appear to shepherds: people of much lower status than Mary and Joseph. That is who the angels tell. Not the king. Or anyone in Bethlehem. Humble shepherds, trying to stay awake in the fields.
Humility
We do understand that humility is a big part of this story. And most of us need that reminder at the end of the calendar year. That we are not anyone’s savior. And we are not worth all that much.
Not any more than the person next to us, anyway.
When I worked retail years ago, the weeks before Christmas were brutal. The worst day being the Saturday before Christmas. Long before Amazon’s fulfillment centers got us used to next day delivery, people would come in three or four days before Christmas and think I could get them anything. Back then, our order before Christmas date was two weeks before.
The expectation was unreal. And what it was hiding was fear and insecurity.
In contrast to that, my favorite day to work was Christmas Eve. Because nobody expected us to have anything. They came in humbly and asking for our help. And I loved that most of the time, I could help.
There’s something about being out of excuses, time, and opportunity to make us face what is really before us: another human being.
Most of us aren’t out in the fields right now. Unwashed. Unwanted. Out there where the angels bring the good news to the people.
But we are here. Longing to hear it, too.
And what is it that we hear?
A message of love.
And a message that is so very human.
For all of our talk of Incarnations and saviors and Messiahs coming to us in this baby born, we are once more reminded of love in human form. To humble women and humble workers.
And we reach out to one another in hopes of finding love the same way.
A Spare Room
Recently scholars have been looking at the famous scene of Jesus’ birth. And tradition focused on certain words more than others. The dominant theory of the moment is that Mary and Joseph weren’t alone. They were probably in a family member’s home.
And somehow, even still, the message doesn’t change at all.
In fact, the sense of humility, of love and intimacy, keeps growing. As we tell this story, as we share in our own stories, we find…each other.
Christmas Every Day
As our attachment to Christmas grows, our need to connect with other humans grows, our desire to be generous to people grows, there is something truly incredible that becomes possible.
Christmas every day.
Parents of young kids, don’t check out. We’re not doing this every day.
We’re talking about this joy and this sadness and this humility and this togetherness every day.
For those who were here four weeks ago, you heard what the point of Advent is—that season that kicks off the liturgical calendar and precedes Christmas. The point of Advent is to prepare to be changed again by the Incarnation: in being changed by God being with us.
And that is what we celebrate tonight. That we get to be made new by the grace of God.
I know the temptation to switch from “Merry Christmas” to “Happy New Year” on…about December 28 is strong. But that doesn’t mean we can’t keep the joy going a whole lot longer.
So ring those bells. Get together with people. Be human. Listen to each other’s joys and heartaches. Get into what is most magical about this season.
And then, when everyone else throws out their tree or goes back to grumpy normal be the mischievous one who keeps going. If you need to keep your tree up to keep the joy up, this is permission.
Because there is more magic than one day. There is enough in faith to last a lifetime.