Christmas Eve 2016; Luke 2:1-20; John 1:1-18; St. Paul’s Smithfield

Jim Melnyk: “Much Higher Than That!”

Sister Joan Chittister “tells the Hasidic story of the rabbi who disappeared every Shabbat Eve, ‘to commune with God in the forest’ – or so his congregation thought (There is a Season).

So one Sabbath night they assigned one of their cantors to follow the rabbi and observe the holy encounter.  Deeper and deeper into the woods the rabbi went until he came to the small cottage of an old Gentile woman, sick to death and crippled into a painful posture.

Once there, the rabbi cooked for her and carried her firewood and swept her floor.  Then when the chores were finished, he returned immediately to his little house next to the synagogue.

Back in the village, the people demanded of the one they’d sent to follow him, ‘Did our rabbi go up to heaven as we thought?’ ‘Oh, no,’ the cantor answered after a thoughtful pause.  ‘Oh, no. Our rabbi went much higher than that.’” (Quoted in Synthesis)

When I let my imagination run wild I can see that very same rabbi, lovingly moving about a cave-stable in Bethlehem one dark night as a young woman does the hard work of giving birth to her first-born child.  I can see the rabbi lighting the lamps and sweeping away the dirty straw – placing fresh, clean rushes in their place.  In my mind’s eye I can see him building the fire and cooking a meal for the exhausted couple – and perhaps several others who have found shelter with them that night.  I envision him keeping the fire going through the night in an effort to keep everyone warm and comfortable – and then gazing on in wonder – along with some wide-eyed shepherds – at the miracle of new birth before returning to his modest home by the local synagogue. 

Our story reminds us that God does not come among us in the glorious splendor of princely palaces – but rather, as the carol reminds us so poetically, God comes among us “in mean estate where ox and ass are feeding” (The Hymnal 1982, 115).

In another fashion, the Gospel of John tells us how the Word became flesh and dwelled among us.  John reminds us how that same Word is the Light of the World, and that it shines in the darkness, and how the darkness – or the brokenness of this world – will never overcome that Light.  But the Incarnation is about more than God in Christ Jesus some 2,000 years ago.  “The incarnation wasn't a 33-year experiment, a one-shot incursion by God into human history. The marvel of the mystery is that God loves the world so much, that God takes on human flesh – and has never since ceased to have human flesh.

In St. Paul’s words, ‘We are the body of Christ,’” (Ronald Rolheiser) and that reality of incarnation can have immense ramifications if we open ourselves to the hope of God for us, and for all whose lives we touch.

The Incarnation is about God loving us enough to take on human flesh in each of us.  The Incarnation is about God being made alive in you – it’s about God being made alive in me – in each of us – in all of us!  The Incarnation is about God’s desire for us to be a light that shines in the darkness – a desire that we will be the ongoing incarnation of Christ in the world around us – talk about immense possibilities for the life of this world!

I don’t know about you, but I need and want a God who falls in love with us – a God who falls in love with me of all people!  I need and want a God who dreams of a creation that finds its “purpose for being” wrapped up in the wonder and the mystery of love. 

I need and want a God who embraces my humanness – our humanness – who embraces our frailty – who embraces our needs – who embraces our hopes and our dreams.  I need and want a God who chooses to be identified with us in the most tangible of ways – in our very flesh and blood.  For if God isn’t a God who is so intimately connected with us and with the whole of creation, what’s the point? As Julian of Norwich wrote centuries ago, “Would you know [our] Lord’s meaning in this?  Learn it well….  Love was our Lord’s meaning.”

Christmas is the hope that we will come to recognize ourselves as Children of God – the hope that we will somehow come to recognize ourselves as the Light of God shining in the broken darkness of this world.  Christmas is the hope and promise of God made alive – in and through us by the power of God’s Holy Spirit – so that our world might be healed of its brokenness and sustained in love.  Tonight.  This very minute.  Now. 

The Eternal has taken upon itself the temporal – so that we might take upon ourselves the Eternal.  God takes on human flesh – think about the wonder, the meaning of that – God takes on human flesh so that we might take upon ourselves – might take within ourselves – the very nature of God.

Like the rabbi in the Hasidic tale, our calling is indeed a high calling.  We are the children of God – and so, we are called to be the ongoing presence of Christ – the incarnation of Christ for the world – tonight – this very minute – and beyond.  Amen.