Merry Christmas! And welcome to Saint
John's Episcopal Church. We are glad that you have chosen to spend
part of your holiday worshiping with us tonight. I also pray that
tonight's service enhances and deepens your Christmas celebration.
As I was preparing this sermon, I found
myself asking this question over and over: What draws us to this
place? I suppose there are as many answers as there are people here
tonight. For some, it might be a desire to sit in the presence of
God in the beauty of holiness. I know that, for me, this is one of
the most beautiful and holy places I have ever experienced. This is
a good and holy place, and it reminds me that, despite everything
going on out there, God is with us. Sometimes I am moved to tears by
all of THIS.
For others, tonight is a chance to once
again hear the story. Once again we gather to hear that timeless
story of how the immortal, invisible, omnipotent God became a mortal,
visible, lowly human being in the form of a fragile newborn baby.
Once again we hear the story of how God gave his only son, born of a
woman, for the salvation of many. And once again, that story amazes
and bewilders us.
I'm sure there are many other reasons
for why we have gathered here tonight. And while there may be many
reasons for why people are here, I want to focus on that second
reason I named – that we gather to once again hear the story. So I
want to more deeply examine this old, familiar, and beloved story.
One of the things about this story that
we may have missed (due to our overlooking it or it being overly
familiar) is the story's dual nature of being both private and
communal.
“While they were there, the time came
for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn
son . . . and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for
them in the inn.”
This is a private moment. Giving birth
is a highly personal and private moment. We don't normally invite
friends and family to participate in this event with us. Only those
necessary to the event are welcome; everyone else is kept away. I
remember this time in my own life.
Our daughter was born back in the dark
ages before cell phones, so when you wanted to contact someone in the
hospital you had no choice but to go through the main switchboard and
have them transfer you to a room. While in our room, and before she
was born, we kept getting phone calls for what seemed like every ten
minutes asking if she had been born yet. I finally called down to
the switchboard and said that, unless someone was dying, NOBODY
was to be transferred to our room until further notice. It was a
private moment that I didn't want outsiders intruding upon.
After she was born, however, it became
a communal event. I allowed calls to come in. We made the necessary
phone calls to family and friends. New grandparents came and
visited. We showed her off at church. In Mary and Joseph's case,
they received a group of strangers who had come to see them. The
private and personal had become communal.
We also see this movement of the
personal and private to the communal with the shepherds. “In that
region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over
their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord came and stood
before them.”
I imagine only a handful of shepherds
here, probably no more than five, gathered together at night. Maybe
they gathered around a fire for warmth, or in the safety of its
light. They might be sharing stories of their day or of people
they've had to deal with. This is a shared, private moment. It
isn't necessarily a time when outsiders were invited in. It's the
proverbial “teachers' lounge,” where we can gather together in
private.
But suddenly an angel of the Lord
appeared, intruding on this private gathering. The angel isn't
named, but I'm guessing it was Gabriel, because making announcements
is what Gabriel does. Gabriel announced the meaning of Daniel's
visions, and Gabriel made the annunciations of both John and Jesus to
Zechariah and Mary, respectively. And now an angel appears and
announces to the shepherds the birth of the Messiah. The angel is
joined by a heavenly chorus singing, “Gloria in excelsis Deo,”
after which they disappear and the shepherds make their way to
Bethlehem to find said child.
Mary and Joseph's personal, private
moment has just become a communal event.
But in some ways, this is still a
personal, private moment for the shepherds. How many of us, when
gazing at a newborn, or holding a newborn, feel like we're the only
two people in the room? I imagine this is what the shepherds felt as
they gazed at the newborn child and cautiously intruded upon the Holy
Family – it was just them and the baby in a private moment.
But then someone spoke up. “My lady
. . . good sir,” or whatever passed for a proper greeting in those
days, “You may not believe this, but an angel from heaven sent us
here to be with you.”
When Mary and Joseph heard this, they
were amazed. I've often wondered about that – they were amazed.
How, exactly, were they amazed? I think maybe it wasn't because they
were astonished, surprised, or perplexed. I don't think it was the
amazement we experience when we see something “miraculous,”
although this event certainly was miraculous. I think, instead, it
was the amazement that comes from having some outrageous or
unconventional experience confirmed.
As an example, when I first felt called
to ordained ministry, I was amazed at how many other people in my
life said something like, “It's about time,” thereby helping to
confirm that call.
I think Mary and Joseph were amazed in
a way that confirmed their own experiences.
Luke tells us that Mary had been
visited by Gabriel earlier in the year and told she would give birth
to the Son of the Most High. Over in Matthew we are told that an
angel visited Joseph in a dream and telling him to not be afraid to
take Mary as his wife and that the child would save his people from
their sins. And now again in Luke we have the story of angels
visiting shepherds. Within these two gospels we have three instances
of angelic visitations. I think the sense of amazement felt by Mary
and Joseph was along the lines of the amazement when your outrageous
and unconventional experience has been confirmed. It's a, “So this
is really happening,” amazing moment. It's the amazement that
comes when you see the hand of God at work in the world around you.
After visiting the Holy Family, the
shepherds returned to their field, glorifying and praising God for
all they had heard and seen. This is no longer a private moment.
This now becomes a communal event for the shepherds who praised and
glorified God in front of all those who heard them. This is an
experience that cries out to be shared with those around. This is an
amazing experience in which the shepherds, like the song says, “Go
tell it on the mountain.”
These personal and private moments of
amazement, awe, and wonder now become communal events because the
news cannot be contained. The story cannot remain private.
We have gathered here tonight for any
number of reasons – but hopefully the number one reason is to
celebrate the birth of the Son of God. We are here to hear the
story. We are here to worship God in the beauty of holiness. But
even in that, even amongst everyone gathered here tonight, this can
still be a private moment. We offer our private prayers. We allow
the music to wash over us individually. We receive Communion
individually, privately.
But in all those private moments, this
is a communal event. We pray together. We sing together. We
receive Communion side by side, together.
So no matter the reason why you are
here tonight, think back to that timeless story, of how the immortal,
invisible, omnipotent God became a mortal, visible, lowly human being
in the form of a fragile newborn baby. Think back to how these
several private moments became a communal event. And then ask
yourself, “Am I amazed enough to share this story with others?”
Because no matter how personal or
private we think this story is, this story is ultimately a communal
event because this story demands to be shared. And really, isn't
that the point of Christmas – to share what we have with others?
May you have a blessed Christmas, and
may you share this amazing story with those around you.
Amen.
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