Feast of the Nativity
December 24, 2008
Isaiah 9:2-7
Psalm 96
Titus 2:11-14
Luke 2:1-20
How fortunate we Christians are at this holiday season to enjoy two celebrations; the celebration of Christmas out there in the world, and the celebration of Christ’s Mass right here in our church. Many people will only enjoy a secular celebration of Christmas which has come to us from ancient Pagan celebrations of light at the Winter Solstice. As we have awaited the coming of our Savior in this quiet and contemplative season of Advent, we have also enjoyed many weeks of lights and decorations in our stores and on out streets. We have been shopping and cooking and wrapping gifts for tomorrow’s gathering of family and friends around a tree and a table groaning with food, as songs of Christmas fill the air. Songs like, “Here comes Santa Claus,” and “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas, and “Jingle Bell Rock.”
But tonight we have a different song to sing. Tonight we sing the great Carols of Christmas; the great music which comes to us through the church to celebrate the Nativity. Tonight you and I leave aside our secular preparations for Christmas and the coming of Santa Claus to our homes to acknowledge the end of our Advent preparation for the coming of Jesus. Tonight we come to “worship Christ, the new born King. Tonight we enjoy a religious celebration of Christmas, a special service of worship which became established in the fourth century to honor the birth of Jesus. The Church called this special service of worship Christ’s Mass, and it had none of the trappings of secular celebrations of Winter Solstice whose traditions we continue to enjoy in our other celebration of Christmas. Christ’s Mass was a meditative time of worship which reflected the quiet mystery of Christ’s birth. In fact, the only thing both celebrations had in common was time in which they occurred—the darkest and deepest time of winter. But the Church had good reason for choosing this time of year to honor the birth of Jesus, even though we are fairly certain he was born in the spring of the year. We celebrate the birth of the Light who broke into our darkness to redeem us from world to redeem from the power of sin and death. The Light is God himself, who came to us in the form of a child. Born of a woman. Out of the darkness of the womb itself, into the shadowy light of this world. And why would our God do such an incredible thing? A great father of the early Church, Athanasius, gives one of the best explanations for this mystery I have ever heard . God became human, so that we might become divine.
And what a story we have to tell. And incredible story. A story which brings us here every Christmas Eve so we can hear it again. And we will never tire of it because it begins the greatest story ever told. A story which captures our heart and our imagination, and instills in us a deep and lasting hope that we can live a better life and make ours a better world in which to live.
The very fact that we are here tonight makes this is an incredible story. Because of all the places we could be, and all the things we might be doing with people we would prefer being with, we came to church, to hear this incredible story once again. And we are not alone. As a matter of fact, we are not the first to hear this story this night. The story of the Nativity has been rolling around the globe tonight from the Far East through Asia and Africa and Europe. It has come across the Atlantic Ocean. And now it is our turn to tell this story and to hear it. And tonight I would like us to think of the many reasons why this is such an incredible story.
Most incredible, of course, is the story itself. It is incredible that our God would leave the light of his world to come into the darkness of his creation because the only way he can redeem us is to become one of us. There is not another God in the pantheon of Gods throughout human history who has been willing to do such a thing. Our God had to humble himself and empty himself of his godlikeness to become, not just a man, but a child—the most vulnerable kind of human. To accomplish this, he had to enter the body of a woman and rely on her to nurture him through her pregnancy and his childhood until he was ready to give to the world the Light of his Word and the example of his life. It was only by Mary’s pregnancy and birth that our God was able to become Incarnate and take his place among us. Incredible.
And what about the circumstances of Jesus’ birth? Incredible! Our God, this King over all the earth, is born in the most humble and humiliating of circumstances. Perhaps because he is not so much a king who will rule as he is a king who will serve. Incredible. Add to this that our God is born far away from any place he might call home. Perhaps because his purpose was not to have a home on this earth but to make a home with all the people of this world. Then there is the star; a very big and bright star which appeared in the sky which modern geologists confirm really did occur around the time Jesus was born. The star frightened shepherds who were herding sheep, but incredibly enough, Angels appeared, not only to assure them of their safety, but also to announce to them the birth of a child who would bring them “tidings of great joy.” And we begin to realize that Jesus has come to help us find joy and comfort and light and peace in our places of fear. The angels invite these shepherds to follow the star so that they might witness this incredible event. And perhaps because they were the first to come to the manger because they represent the people God most wanted to care for on this earth. The humble, the meek and the poor his mother speaks of in the words of the Magnificat, the Song of Mary. Then, again, the next people who come to see Jesus are the Magi. These were learned men, who had money and status and privilege; perhaps they might have even been kings. And we realize that perhaps Jesus came for them, too. Tidings of great joy, indeed, for all humankind.
What an incredible story. Perhaps. But, then again, maybe not so incredible to people of faith. People of faith understand that any great story, especially our stories in scripture, lead us to truths which cannot be made credible to those only want to prove their credibility and not seek their truth. Those who only deal in cold facts and hard proof. Then, again, it is not the purpose of such people to seek truth from stories. Their purpose is to find the facts and prove them to be true in occupations which serve to benefit the material well-being of human kind. And that is a wonderful thing as far as it goes. The results which come from fact finders and proof seekers are meant to make life more livable. But truth which comes from the great stories of scripture and from the ordinary and extraordinary stories of our lives make life worth living. They make life worth reading in books and watching in movies. Stories make life worth listening to in music, and looking at in the visual arts. Such stories bring us a quality of life which can never come from a laboratory. So I don’t want to spoil this incredible story with facts which may or may not be provable. Instead, I want to show you how true this story of God’s incarnation has been in my life in three short stories I will tell. Stories which I believe illustrate the meaning and purpose of God’s Incarnation and his purpose for living among us. Stories which show us something about who we are and who we can be when Light takes away our darkness and love takes away our fear. Stories which I believe show us physical and material evidence of “God with us,”
The first story is about a family who was spending a vacation with relatives at their farm. While the adults were visiting and children were playing nearby, one of the children wandered outside and she became lost. She wandered a distance, undoubtedly trying to find her way back, until she became so tired she just dropped to the ground and fell asleep. When the family realized she was missing, they began to search frantically for her. When it seemed almost futile that they would find her, they returned to the house to seek help from the local police. Meanwhile, her father continued the search. Suddenly, as he approached a clearing he saw his daughter asleep on the ground. In his excitement, as he called her name and ran toward her, she woke up. And as her father swooped her up in his arms she cried, “Daddy, daddy, I found you! A great story, isn’t it. And great story for showing us the truth of God’s finding us so that he can redeem us. Through centuries of scripture God has been the father of children who wander away from him. Until he realizes that we have wandered so far we can’t even find him anymore. So he comes to us. God comes looking for us, but we are the ones who find him in that manger. Just like the shepherds and the Magi and the little lost girl, we find him because we have been found by him.
My next story never ceases to amaze me, because it continues to happen to me every Christmas. Once again this year I received a Christmas card with a wonderful letter and some photographs sent by a member of the church I served in NYC when I was a student at General Seminary. Now, I get several cards and letters like this at Christmas from former parishioners, but this one always makes me pause and consider my life as a priest. And it always places me squarely at that manger with the shepherds. Because in a church whose congregation is made up of mostly upper middle class professional people who reside in some of the most expensive housing in the world, Ted is a street person. He has been homeless for many years, now. But he attends worship regularly and takes his place among the people of that church as if he belongs. And the wonderful thing is. He does belong to the people of that church. And now he belongs to me. And he reminds me that while I went to seminary and served that church in order to become a priest, this homeless man continues to make me the priest I am. I see the face of Christ in Ted, and every Christmas he helps me find my way back to the manger.
Finally I tell the story of the little boy who woke up from a terrible nightmare. He called out for his mother. She came running to his bedroom and held him in her arms until he stopped shaking and crying. She tried soothing him by telling him how much God loved him; that God was with him and would keep him safe from harm. “But mommy,” he cried. “I need God with skin on.” And so do we.
This Christmas, and every Christmas, we celebrate a God who came to us with “skin on.” A God who became human so that we might become divine. And what a treasure that is for us to ponder in our hearts as we contemplate this incredible event, in the stillness of this night, in the glow of candle light, while we sing perhaps the most beautiful Carol ever written to welcome the birth of our Savior. Silent Night.