Sermon for SMHP, Year B, Christmas Eve, Dec. 24, 2023
Luke 2:1-14
In
those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be
registered. 2This was the first registration and was taken while
Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3All went to their own towns to be
registered. 4Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee
to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from
the house and family of David. 5He went to be registered with Mary,
to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child.
6While
they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. 7And
she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid
him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.
8In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch
over their flock by night. 9Then an angel of the Lord stood before
them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10But
the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news
of great joy for all the people: 11to you is born this day in the
city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. 12This will be
a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a
manger.” 13And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the
heavenly host, praising God and saying, 14“Glory to God in the
highest heaven, and on earth peace.”
So
there’s this lettuce.
It’s growing in a planter on our deck
rail. We brought in one of the planters
for winter, after moving the sage that was with that lettuce. But we left this one outside, because all
that was left in it was this little lettuce…which would surely be gone with the
Fall.
That was two months ago.
I
took these pictures yesterday.
Somehow, three days after the winter solstice…weeks
after the temperatures began to dip below freezing…a full month after this happened, after there were a couple of
inches of snow atop those tender leaves…
…that little lettuce is still there.
I mean, I’m not exactly whipping up a
vinaigrette, but every time I go out onto the deck, which is a lot, because we
have three dogs…
…I marvel at the resilience of that
lettuce. Bracing
itself against the winter. Yeah,
I said I was done with the Game of Thrones meme generator. Apparently I lied.
Perhaps you came to church tonight feeling
like that little lettuce. Storms rage
around you, but you are determined to survive.
And maybe you came tonight feeling
like even that level of reasonably healthy microgreen is more than you can manage
right now. You’re just trying to keep
your roots in the ground.
And maybe you’re great. Your presents are wrapped, there’s nothing to
clean, and someone else is making the hollandaise. Anyone?
Even if your corner of the world is
picture perfect right now, you have likely noticed that the world beyond our
little corners is not.
There was no mass said at midnight at
the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem.
No Christmas services to celebrate the birth of Christ in the room where
it happened, the room where I bought that olive wood nativity. No services at Christmas Lutheran Church
either. The
display that Pastor Munther Isaac and his parishioners created at the
beginning of Advent is still standing, a reminder that forces beyond their
control, and beyond the control of ordinary Israelis are once again toying with
and even destroying the lives of the descendants of Abraham, Hagar, and Sarah.
It should be a reminder for us, as
well, on this night in particular. For
it is to such a world as this, a place of disparate and dissolute corners, that
Jesus was born.
It is for a people such as us…indeed for
us exactly—those of us who are
overwhelmed by our To Do List…and those of us who are joyful…and those of us
who can only write “be joyful” on a To Do List…it is for us all that God
chose to take on flesh.
I don’t know exactly what “good news
of great joy” you need to hear tonight.
I mean, yes, I know you want to hear about Jesus—at least I hope you
do. But there is probably something
more—someone you love who is hurting…someone who has hurt you and whom you are
struggling to forgive…someone whose forgiveness you seek, but have been afraid
to ask for. Maybe you’re hoping for news
about a family member or a job, or a potential project.
Whatever you need to hear, however you
come to this place on this holy night, I invite you to set down your burdens
for a while. Set them down and pick up a
crook. This
kind, in case the reference is unclear.
We’re all shepherds tonight. Hearing the story once again for the first
time. Two billion shepherds, in every corner of the earth.
Take a deep breath and imagine that
you are on a hillside in Judea. Just
outside the little city of Bethlehem, in view of the Mount of Olives. It’s a beautiful night—the air is clean and
cool. There’s a full moon, so you don’t
notice the angel’s arrival at first. But
the glory of the Lord begins to shine brighter and brighter, and soon you
notice it. And at first you are
afraid. But then you hear the words we
all came to hear tonight, words of promise.
Good news of great joy.
11to you is
born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. 12This
will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and
lying in a manger.
It makes no sense. It’s like lettuce growing in December. But then a whole bunch more angels show up and
they’re singing and shouting…
…what are they saying? “Glory to God in the highest, and peace on
earth!”
They’re saying it, and you believe
it, and you just give yourself over to joy.
Feel it? Feel it?
The next thing you know, you are wandering
through Bethlehem, looking for the parents of this Child of Promise. You find them, and you tell them what
happened to you on the hillside, and the child’s mother smiles knowingly.
And then you know.
The whole world has changed. You have looked into the face of God…
…and it wasn’t what you thought. It was small, and pink, and seemed
fragile.
For a brief moment you wonder…was
that really God? But you know. You knew before you saw him. The Prince of Peace wouldn’t come as a
vanquishing warrior. He would come as
one of your little lambs. That’s why
they came to tell you first—because you would recognize him.
God is a lamb.
God is a baby.
God is with us.
And you smile, and you bow a little
at the child. And then you go out and
tell everyone you see.
A child has been born. For us.
And now that we have seen his face,
nothing will be the same.
Halleluiah!
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