No Ordinary Year

Christmas Eve

24 December 2020 (Recorded 5 December)

And it came to pass in those days a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed. (Lk. 2:1, KJV AV)

In an ordinary year, I would not write a Christmas Eve sermon, the 1st Week of Advent.

In a normal year, I would not preach that sermon before the 2nd Sunday of Advent.

In an ordinary year, ZOOM would be relegated to the workplace and not play a key role in our liturgy.

In a normal year, a Eucharistic Fast would be unheard of.

In an ordinary year, we would not be afraid of traveling during the holidays.

In a normal year, we gather with family and friends and celebrate the holidays.

In an ordinary year, the church filled with Christmas worshippers.

But this is not an ordinary year. The has been nothing normal about it!

According to St. Luke, there was nothing ordinary about the year of Jesus' birth. Caesar Augustus, the ruler of the world and Lord and Savior, decreed "all the world" should be taxed. As emperor, he commanded a census, an accounting. "How big is my empire?" the ruler of the world demanded. This question's hubris is not unlike King David, who also ordered a census in defiance of God's wishes. I guess that is what kings do.

It was not an ordinary year for the people under Augustus' thumb. He required enrolling all the people, rich and poor alike. They needed to be part of the tally of their ancestral homes. It is hard to imagine roads clogged with travelers, trekking who knows how far, obeying the emperor's whim.

For Mary, there was nothing ordinary about Jesus' birth. Under normal circumstances, Mary would have been home, surrounded by women, family, and friends. She would have a built-in support group. And if need be, a doula could help. Instead, she gives birth in a cave, assisted by her husband Joseph., who most likely knew nothing about "birthing no baby."

For humanity, Jesus' birth was no ordinary birth. The Jewish people were expecting a Messiah, God's Anointed. They did not, and this is key, expect the Messiah to be divine. They expected a human leader, not a divine redeemer and savior. That God's Anointed was the Divine incarnated was beyond all historical expectation.

The Gospels of Matthew and Luke provide a human view of Jesus' birth. These evangelists focus on who Jesus was and take what was is ordinary and show how extraordinary Jesus' birth and life were. They try to rationalize Jesus' life with sacred texts. The Gospel of John, however, gives us the theological underpinnings of Jesus and Jesus' nature.[i] John tells us,

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people…And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth.[ii]

We learn from John's Gospel the meaning of Christmas and its import to humanity.

If you ponder all the works of God, what would be the greatest, the most noteworthy, the most substantial? Some might propose creating the universe – the sun, the moon, the stars, black holes, supernovas, and other astronomical wonders. Some might suggest atoms, molecules, sub-atomic particles, and the microcosm we continue to explore. Others might offer life in all its diversity that inhabits worlds known and unknown. St. John's Gospel, though, leads to the conclusion that the greatest of God's work is the Incarnation, the Word made Flesh. It is the greatest gift because God assumed human nature out of love, radical love for creation, for fallible human beings. As St. John reminds us,

"For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.[iii]

Despite the utter poverty, despite the challenges and dangers of traveling on foot, despite the wretched conditions of the cave, God became man, changing the world forever.

Tonight, we celebrate that gift, that greatest, most generous gift, given freely, given out of radical love for humanity, made in God's image. Despite the pain and loss of the last months, despite the sheltering in place rules, we have much to celebrate. We can, this night of nights, celebrate the ultimate gift - God's gift of self. The question remains, what gift will we leave for God?

Howard Thurman, one of the most crucial social justice theologians of the twentieth century, wrote:

Gifts on My Altar[iv]

I place these gifts on my altar this Christmas;

Gifts that are mine, as the years are mine.

The quiet hopes that flood the earnest cargo of my dreams;

The best of all good things for those I love.

A fresh new trust for all whose faith is dim.

The love of life, God's precious gift in reach of all:

Seeing in each day the seeds of the morrow,

Finding in each struggle the strength of renewal,

Seeing in each person the face of my brother.

I place these figs on my altar this Christmas;

Gifts that are mine, as the years are mine.

What gift will you leave this holy night?

In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy spirit.

Amen.

[i] Stookey, L.H., Calendar: Christ’s Time for the Church, (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press) p. 106

[ii] Jn. 1:1-4, 14, NRSV

[iii] Jn.3:16

[iv] Thurman, Howard, The Mood of Christmas and Other Celebrations, (Richmond, IN: Friends United Press) p. 26