Sermon for December 24

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and from the Lord Jesus Christ, whose birth we celebrate this night.

There’s a story about a church in a small town that always had an outdoor Nativity scene. One year after Christmas, (actually it was after Epiphany) the pastor was packing up the figures when he noticed that the baby Jesus was missing.

So, he turned toward the parsonage, which was next door, to call the police. He knew it wouldn’t do much good, but he thought he ought to report it. But just as he turned, he saw little six-year-old Henry pulling a bright, new red wagon, and in the wagon was the figure of the little baby, Jesus.

The pastor walked up to Henry and said, “Hi, Henry, what are you up to, and where did you get the little baby?” Henry looked up at the pastor and said, “I took him from the church, pastor.” “And why did you take him?” With a guilty grin, Henry said, “Well, about a week before Christmas I prayed to the little Lord Jesus. I told him if he would bring me a red wagon for Christmas, I would give him a ride around the block in it.”

It seems that at this time of the year, people ask the question, “Well, what is the true meaning of Christmas?” We hear that question on the TV, in movies and commercials, in sit-coms and radio announcers—they all ask the question directly or subtly—what is the meaning of Christmas? They usually conclude that it’s family, it’s love, it’s giving, and sharing, but usually nothing religious for fear of offending someone. And the love, family, sharing is certainly part of it; but just a part.

This past Sunday night at the Children’s Christmas pageant all those who participated did a wonderful job in expressing the warmth and innocence of that night some 2000 years ago. And that’s part of it.

It was also at that time there was a tremendous demonstration of love—your love. You demonstrated that with a very generous gift to me. I thank you from the bottom of my heart and can only express my love to you as a member of this family that I love each and every one with sincerity and devotion. And that’s part of it.

God expresses his love for us in our readings tonight. As I read the story of the birth of Jesus, a story we have heard many, many times, there was a quietness in this place—a hush because of your intense listening. I think it was because the story is one of expectation, of seriousness, and of joy. Luke gives us quite a few details about the birth of the Christ child in the first chapters of his gospel:

1. The mother was giving birth to her first child, and yet the young woman was a virgin;
2. A decree went out from Emperor Augustus back in Rome while Quirinius was governor of the region, setting the birth down in history;
3. News of this birth was not kept in the birthing room, (and I use that term very loosely) but was delivered by angels to shepherds;

But what is also interesting is what is not mentioned in those verses—things that we think we know:

1. There are no angels perched on top of a stable as shown on Christmas cards nowadays. Even Gabriel, who talked to Mary about the child was no where around;
2. There is no mention of any animals overlooking the baby’s crib or even near by;
3. In fact, there is not even a mention of a stable, just a manger;
4. There is not even an innkeeper claiming there was no room.

Amid all the pageantry, excitement, and parading of people on Christmas Eve, Luke’s few sentences in the first gospel reading present a humble and private event. It was certainly not something to write home about. It was almost the opposite of what this young mother witnessed at her cousin Elizabeth’s house when John, later called the Baptist, was born. There in her home, there were midwives, people providing prayers of joy and praise for a healed womb, celebrations and plenty of people partying as we would call it. And here in Bethlehem there was not even a mention of a name for Mary’s child in these verses.

This birth is remembered in connection with a census, a census done by the Romans to better be able to tax the people. But in this case, it was the counting of one person among hundreds of thousands—and it is initially represented simply as the birth of Joseph and Mary’s first born son—a seemingly insignificant son born that night. But God’s most holy Son was coming down to live with us, the one who walked with angels and lived in the glory and presence with his Father. But there is no way to know that from just reading the first few verses of the first gospel reading.

But the second gospel reading cranks it up. Now comes the excitement. The news is delivered beyond the “birthing room” (whatever that was) to shepherds. These shepherds were doing what shepherds do—taking care of sheep out in the fields somewhere around Bethlehem. And then came a spectacular appearance. First there was an angel. One angel who brought fear to the shepherds. I would think we would be afraid, too. But the angel said, “Stop being afraid and listen to what I’ve got to tell you; I’ve got an message for you and it’s not about me. Something greater than my appearance has happened. Just now in the town of Bethlehem a Savior has been born. He is the Christ (another name for Messiah). He is Christ the Lord.” Just the one angel.

Suddenly, a multitude of angels began proclaiming the Good News. That is the source of where we get all the fanfare. We like that a heavenly choir of angels sings to the shepherds. This is how we like Christmas Eve. Pageantry, fanfare, music. But it’s not about the show or even the way the message comes. It is the message itself and this is the quiet time. The message has six points:

 There is One has been born (not just appearing)
 To (For) you (you & me)
 In the city of David (Bethlehem, a real place)
 Today (now)
 A savior (one who will deliver us)
 Who is Christ the Lord

The show begins after the announcement and when the heavenly choir sings a grand doxology to God and proclaiming peace in God’s name. No wonder we light candles and raise them when we sing hymns of praise on Christmas Eve. So, the precedent was set outdoors in the shepherds’ fields so long ago.

Finally, a name is mentioned on this night and the name of the child was given to the shepherds by the angels—He is Savior, Christ the Lord. But look to whom this announcement given. It was not to the upper echelon of society, nor the priests or scribes, not to any of the rulers, but to common, dirty, stinky, looked down upon shepherds. Luke drops the names of some of the best known people of the time (Emperor Augustus and Quirinius), but the real characters in this reading are Mary and Joseph (an engaged pregnant couple), some nameless shepherds who lived in the fields, an angel/messenger and a whole chorus of angels—and a newborn baby.

This baby born to a young mother—a baby who would change the course of history. The fates of leaders and common folk alike would hang in the balance of this baby’s destiny. God, the all-mighty, the all-knowing, the all-powerful, the creator of all things, the all-everything stoops down to dwell with not the high and mighty, but with the lowly, with those who don’t expect it, with those who were considered nothing by the world.

And here amid the weakness and helplessness of human birth, God makes his intentions known for humanity. John writes in his gospel how God is love, and Luke in his gospel shows how that love is made visible. As God takes human form; the infinite becomes finite, confined by flesh and skin. That which is imperishable becomes perishable. God in his magnificence, in his all-knowingness, in his omnipresence, in all his largeness now becomes small—small enough that when this child becomes a man, he is one who talks and has conversation with the likes of you and me.

Luke portrays all this through simple, everyday people like a young mother and father and common shepherds. If God can work in and through such ordinary characters, perhaps God can also work in and through the likes of us. Christ takes on not just human flesh “in general” but takes on our flesh. And it is not simply history “in general” that God enters all this through this birth, it is our history and our very lives to which God is committed. He is committed to us!

So, on this Christmas Eve, it’s about angels and shepherds, it’s about a mother and her newborn, and because of all this, God makes it also it also about us, all of us gathered here amid candles and readings, carols and prayers that are repeated a million times all over the world. God came down to us, that we might have hope and courage amid the dark and dangerous times and places of and in our lives. This is why we gather, so that as God entered time and history long ago through the Word made flesh, God might also enter our lives even now through the Word proclaimed in Scripture, song, and sermon when we hear and listen to it. He enters our lives through the bread and wine, his body and blood. No wonder we celebrate!

But we also celebrate this gift God has given us. And it is by his grace and love. We participate like the angels and celebrate like the shepherds! Not by giving him a ride around the block in our new wagon or car, but by sharing his love and grace with our neighbor—and doing so in his name. Praise be to God because he loves you—and so do I!