Christmas Eve, Luke
2:1-20; St. Paul’s Smithfield, NC; 12/24/15
Jim Melnyk “This God
Burst in Our Hearts!”
Poet Ann Weems writes,
When the Holy Child is born
into our hearts
there is a rain of stars
a rushing of angels
a blaze of candles
this God burst into our lives.
(Kneeling in Bethlehem, p. 27)
This God burst into our lives! This is Christmas, my sisters and brothers – Christmas,
my friends. Think of the glory and
wonder of this moment—this moment in time which becomes, for each of us, the
fullness of time. It’s Christmas – the
moment in time when God burst into and upon us.
Christmas: God breaking into human history— God breaking into our
history – in the person of Jesus of Nazareth.
Tonight, those of us who have used our labyrinth as a metaphor for our
Advent journey now stand at its very center to witness the coming of Emmanuel, the
coming of God with us.
And even if haven’t walked the labyrinth in Advent
preparation and anticipation for this evening, we still stand at the very
center of the Divine/Human encounter we call Incarnation. We will rest here for a time in the presence
of our Lord, before we begin the journey outward from the center of the
labyrinth – the journey outward, away from Bethlehem, to share the Good News of
God in Christ with a world too often living on the edge of life.
We come to this night and once again we are met by Jesus: child
of Mary and Joseph, and yet Child of the One God. The God who spangled the heavens with stars
and planets —the God of whom angels sing— the God who shaped the heavens and
the earth and who breathes God’s own breath— Ruach— Holy Spirit— into our very
nostrils – has come among us again. And this
is whom we proclaim this night— Jesus, the very Child of the One, Holy and
Living God – “God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten,
not made, of one Being with the Father” (BCP, p 358).
Think of the glory of this One God who, in Jesus, becomes
human flesh to dwell among us. This God,
who because of love – love for creation, love for humanity, love for you and me
– is conceived in a human womb and born an infant – someone in need of human
love and care. Consider well, what it
means for God to be made so new— to be made so vulnerable, so helpless, as a
newborn child. “A rain of stars, a
rushing of angels, a blaze of candles— this God burst into our lives.” This God burst who comes as a newborn babe,
helpless and in need of human love.
Theologian Parker Palmer writes, “In the Christmas story, God – an airy
word if ever there was one! – [God] takes the risk of incarnation. In fact,” Parker continues, “God doubles down
on that risk by choosing the flesh of a vulnerable infant, not a warrior king…”
(Parker Palmer).
And yet it is this same God burst who will grow to become
the Christ of God— the One Who Takes Away the Sin of the World, and makes us
one with God. The One who will cleanse
lepers and clear the Temple...the One who will give sight to those whose eyes
are blind and to those whose hearts and souls are just as blind. A child is born, and God thunders into our
lives in the cry of this infant.
And who are the witnesses to this blessed birth— this God
burst of heavenly love? A mother,
engaged but not yet wed, who could have been divorced, or possibly stoned for
bearing this Child of God out of wedlock.
A father, struggling with his faith, unsure and prone to dreams and
visions; a father who finally, after much internal debate, is willing to stand
with the woman he loves. And then there
are the shepherds— unkempt, uneducated and unwanted anywhere around town. Trusted with the sheep out in the pastures,
they are trusted with little else – society’s ne’er-do-wells by some accounts –
isolated from the world by their work, witnesses to the Ruler of all heaven,
come among them in the person of a newborn child.
Later, the other stories tell us, Kings or Wise men from the
east, will come bear witness to this child— this God burst in human
history. Worshiped by rich and poor
alike, outcasts and rulers, Jews and Gentiles, this Child comes to and for us;
and God doesn’t take time to check out our religious or social status, our
poverty or our wealth, our standing or lack of standing in the world, before
breaking into our lives.
This is Christmas, sisters and brothers – Christmas, my
friends. We who “long for words like
love, truth, and justice to become flesh and dwell among us” in an increasingly
argumentative and violent world, find an answer in the Christmas story – and in
all that moves beyond this holy night in the life and teachings, as well as the
death and resurrection of Jesus (Parker Palmer). God has come among us in the person of Jesus
and we need to give more than our simple thanks. In response to God’s great gift of life in
Christ Jesus we need to give back to God our very lives – our very souls and
bodies in thanksgiving.
The Christ Child, born so long ago, longs to be born in our
hearts and lives again— today – and with that birthing in our hearts and lives
comes a certain vulnerability on our part: a willingness on our part to risk
being Christ in a world that doesn’t always want to hear a reconciling word –
that doesn’t always want to hear words of mercy – words of grace – words of
acceptance, inclusion, and love. Tonight,
and every day, “[We] can,” as Barbara Brown Taylor writes, we “can
decide to take part in a plan [we] did not choose, doing things [we] do not
know how to do for reasons [we] don't entirely understand. [We] can take part
in a thrilling and dangerous scheme with no script and no guarantees. [We] can
agree to smuggle God into the world inside [our] own [bodies]” (Barbara Brown
Taylor).
Whenever we seek the Christ of God in another – whenever we
seek Christ in our own hearts and souls – whenever we open ourselves up to the
vulnerability of a God who takes on human flesh in all its frailty – “there is
a rain of stars, a rushing of angels, a blaze of candles,” as God bursts upon
us and within us, making us new, calling us to love and serve one another in
the name of Christ.
No comments:
Post a Comment