Xmas Eve 2010

Greatest Story Ever Told

This was the first time I've seen our Christmas pageant here at St. John's. I must say, it was a wonderful embodiment of the story. Thank you!

It is a story that we know well. A story that we know by heart. It is, quite simply, the greatest story ever told. And tonight we celebrate part of that story. What we lift up tonight, however, is not the whole story. It is only the beginning of it. It is a story that in the coming months will take us far away from Bethlehem. We will journey to Egypt and then to Nazareth. We will journey around Galilee, and to the banks of the Jordan. We will journey into the wilderness, and through the countryside. Eventually we will find ourselves in Jerusalem. First in the streets, then in an upper room, and then at the foot of a cross. That will be a dark day my friends. But then we will be surprised by an empty tomb, and stunned at the miraculous appearance of one who we thought was dead. Then, just when we are getting comfortable with the idea that he has risen, his earthly form will leave us. But then the roller coaster ride will continue. The Holy Spirit, the Comforter, the Advocate, will come to us. At that point, much like tonight, we will celebrate a birth. But rather than the birth of a baby, it will be the birth of the Church at Pentecost. And the story will continue from there...but perhaps we are getting ahead of ourselves. Let us not forget about tonight. Let us not forget to celebrate the birth of this baby.

And what of this baby? I wonder what it must have been like for Mary and Joseph. There was, of course, no hospital, no doctor, no sanitary and germ-free conditions. None of the myriad of immediate-post-birth medical processes and procedures that happen routinely today. Not that the couple would have expected that. But I also do not hear in the account anything about a midwife, or anyone there to go through this experience with them. Certainly there was no rabbi checking in on how they were doing, if they were connected with a faith community, and what type of support systems they had! And no request for hot water and towels, like you hear about on television whenever someone is about to give birth.

No, it was just them. Alone, without even the hospitality and accommodation of an inn. It was in this way that the greatest story ever told truly begins, the story of God's radical in-breaking into history. The story of God incarnated in flesh. What was it like, I wonder, for Mary and Joseph to look into his eyes? To peer into the eyes of that baby?

We have had 5 baptisms here at St. John's since All Saints Day on November 7th. Skyler, Calan, Julia, Jack, and Sarah. It was in the eyes of those babies that I saw the Christ child reflected back most clearly. In those eyes that were unencumbered by the chains we fetter ourselves with in this life. You see, the eyes of infants are eyes that are not yet clouded by, as our epistle from Titus puts it, “impiety and worldly passions.” And while they may not be living lives that are “self-controlled” or “upright”, I believe them very much to be “godly.”

Babies do not have the boundaries of spirit that we relentlessly build in our hearts. They do not have the interior walls that we construct to try and keep out pain, and woundedness. They are consistently open to the world around them in ways that adults are only able to catch glimpses of.

Our Wednesday night Bible Study has of late been pondering what the kingdom of God means, and what it means to be a part of it. The tentative conclusions we have so far reached is that we catch kingdom moments, that the kingdom can be experienced for a brief time and place at most and at best. But swiftly our humanness, and our inability to love God and each other in fullness, causes the kingdom to slip through our fingers. The kingdom can be approached, but cannot be resided in. The kingdom of God is now and it is not yet. But those glimpses that we catch! Those kingdom moments that we have! They are, as the psalmist wrote, “the majesty and magnificence of God's presence”, “the power and splendor of his sanctuary.”

I think our little ones know much more about the majesty and magnificence of God's presence than we do. Oh, not to worry, when we were like them we knew it too! But we have forgotten. As we have grown in to individuals, we have grown out of an awareness of God's presence. As we see more clearly our own identities, God's identity becomes one that we see as if through a glass, and darkly.

Perhaps this is why God chose to be born. It is a concept that we are accustomed to because it is how history has played out. But take a step back from our long understanding and experience of the Christmas story. God can do whatever it is that God wants to do. It's one of the perks of being God. Miraculously appearing as a human being fully grown would be a mere parlor trick for, as Isaiah says, “the LORD who made the heavens”, for the one who “has made the world so firm that it cannot be moved.”

No, I think that the Incarnation in the form of a babe wrapped in bands of cloth was a choice rather than a necessity. And perhaps a choice made because of just how special babies really are. How innocent, how open, how close to God they are. How their spirits are attentive to the Creator, and their hearts aware of the divine.

We celebrate the birth of a baby boy to Mary and Joseph. When they looked with love into his eyes, I am sure that what they saw looking back was love. But what else? Did they see what we see when we now look at the Christ child? Here, at the beginning of the story, they named him Jesus. But we who know more of the story call him by many names: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace, Savior, Redeemer, Anointed one...Jesus Christ. We already know that he will be a great light for those who walked in darkness, and that he will remove the yoke of burden from those being oppressed by breaking the rod of the oppressors. We already know that authority rests upon his shoulders. We already know that someday, at the end of the story, there shall be endless peace.

But, perhaps we are getting ahead of ourselves again. For this night, perhaps all we need to know is that the story begins. A baby is born this night in Bethlehem. A baby that was foretold. A baby whose eyes reflected God's presence in a way that has not happened before or since. A baby whose birth is good news of great joy for all people.

This is the beginning of the story. It is a story that we know well. It is a story that we know by heart. It is, quite simply, the greatest story ever told. But it is not just the story of Jesus. This is also my story. This is also your story. This is also the story of St. John's and the story of every Christian church. We are living this story. It is not simply a story that we remind ourselves of at Christmas and Easter. We are living this story.

We take care to recall the beginning of the story tonight because it is a one that has not yet ended. The story is ongoing, and we are a part of it. Indeed, we are not only a part of it, but an important part of it. An indispensable part of it. God's goodness and grace and grandeur has crafted a role just for you. A perfect part in the story has been written FOR you, and can only be filled BY you.

We have some ideas on how the story will eventually end. God has given us enough of the script for us to envision the scene. But how we get from here to there is up for grabs. Your part in the story is unfurling into history before us, right now. Right now, as I speak, as you hear, as the letter to Titus tells us, “we wait for the blessed hope and the manifestation of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ.” But our part in the story is not simply to wait. It is to act.

Tonight we celebrate the fact that long ago a baby was born. He was born for you. Ask yourselves this night, ask yourselves as you experience him in the breaking of bread, in word, in music, and in prayers - Do you act for him?