December 25, 1999
[Little Sharon] was five [years old], sure of the facts, [and
as the room full of grown-ups and big kids quieted, and looked
right at her, expectantly, she recited the facts] with slow solemnity
convinced every word was revelation. She said they were so poor
they had only peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to eat and they
went a long way from home without getting lost. The lady rode
a donkey, the man walked, and the baby was inside the lady. They
had to stay in a stable with an ox and an ass (hee-hee) but the
Three Rich Men found them because a star lighted the roof. Shepherds
came and you could pet the sheep but not feed them.
Then the baby was borned. And do you know who he was? Her quarter eyes inflated to silver dollars. The baby was God.
And she jumped in the air whirled round, dove into the sofa and buried her head under the cushion . . . .(1)
Christmas is the time for storytelling. It is a time for telling the truth about who we are and who it is that loves us. It is quite possible that when the truth of this season, the truth of this birth really grabs us the only proper response is to jump up in the air, whirl around and dive under the cushions on the sofa.
From the time of the Ascension and Pentecost, when the disciples, friends, and Apostles of Jesus were sorting out the stories and the truth and the grace they had received, there has been a struggle to find just the right words and just the right way to tell it all. There has been a marvelous wrestling of the soul to find just the right words to tell the truth about how much we are loved, how precious we are in the sight of God. In this season, of course, we do our best to share the stories of the Incarnation, the birth of Jesus, the beginning of the story of God's love revealed in Jesus.
Of the four gospel accounts, Mark chooses to skip the story of the birth of Jesus. Most of those early believers first encountered Jesus as an adult, baptized by John in the Jordan and on a mission from village to village, teaching, healing, and calling folks into the Kingdom of God. Mark begins his story of the Good News with that baptism and public ministry.
Matthew wants to be sure that everyone knows that Jesus is the long awaited Messiah, and the fulfillment of God's promise to place a descendant of David on the throne of the Kingdom forever. He carefully recounts the genealogy leading up to the birth of Jesus, David's heir.
Luke gives us a rich story, the story of our pageants, filled with travel and rejection and angels and shepherds and wonders to fill the sky. If we close our eyes to picture the birth of Jesus the story of Luke feeds our imagination. Many of the songs of Christmas reach into Luke's story for inspiration and poetry.
John, writing perhaps near the end of his life, perhaps the last living Apostle of Jesus when he writes his account, also chooses not to talk about the circumstances of the birth of the Jesus. Instead, as we have just heard, he chooses his words carefully. Each word measured to contain more than it can safely hold or bear and he writes a prologue to his account of the life and teaching and work, the Good News, of Jesus Christ.
John's account, so charged with power in every word, has been mined by theologians and scholars and deep thinkers since it first came to light. Volumes have been written to help unlock the power of his prologue. Life, light, darkness, God, grace, truth: ordinary words used to contain extraordinary truths. And, of course the word about which all this is spoken is the Word whom we have come to know and worship as our Lord and our Savior, Jesus Christ.
And the pivotal point in this prologue, the truth that brings us here, the truth that causes us to jump up in the air, whirl around and dive into the cushions, comes at verse 14: And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth. (NRSV)
Or said another way: And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth. (KJV)
Or again: The Word became a human being and lived here with us. We saw his true glory, the glory of the only Son of the Father. From him all the kindness and all the truth of God have come down to us. (CEV)
Or finally: The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood. We saw the glory with our own eyes, the one-of-a-kind glory, like Father, like Son, Generous inside and out, true from start to finish. (The Message)
We still wrestle with the words to adequately convey what it is we know. And I think when we begin to glimpse it, when someone helps unlock the knowledge of God's love for us, love so powerful it creates everything from nothing, love so expansive it contains everything that is, love so tender that it abandons this grandeur and becomes flesh and blood and moves into the neighborhood we just don't know what to do.
We have dropped to our knees and bowed our heads, we have cried tears of joy, we have embraced each other in silence, we have danced our joy, we have sung and shouted our joy, we have painted and carved our joy, we have crafted poems and essays, and we have jumped in the air, whirled around and dived into the cushions on the sofa.
Let me leave you this morning with two additional pieces that have helped me to explore the joy of this birth of our Savior, and this exhortation: find your own way to tell the truth that God so loved the world that he sent his only begotten Son, and tell it! You may be, as the saying goes, the only Gospel that some people read—be eloquent in telling the truth of God's love born this day.
Henri Nouwen, a faithful priest of God who has left a rich legacy of writing about God's love, reminds us to look for God in the small things:
Our salvation comes [he says] from something small, tender, and vulnerable, something hardly noticeable. God, who is the Creator of the Universe, comes to us in smallness, weakness, and hiddenness. I find this a hopeful message. Somehow, I keep expecting loud and impressive events to convince me and others of God's saving power; but over and over again I am reminded that spectacles, power plays, and big events are the ways of the world. Our temptation is to be distracted by them and made blind to the "shoot that shall sprout from the stump" [foretold by the prophet Isaiah, (Isa. 11:1)]. (2)
I want to finish with a prayer. This prayer is composed by Fredrick Buechner, a Presbyterian minister who has an extraordinary gift with words. It is the prayer of my heart for you and for your family and for our world in the light of the truth that God has wrapped himself in smallness and weakness to come into our lives and win our hearts:
Thou Son of the Most High, Prince of Peace, be born again into our world. Wherever there is war in this world, wherever there is pain, wherever there is loneliness, wherever there is no hope, come, thou long-expected one, with healing in thy wings.
Holy Child, whom the shepherds and the kings and the dumb beasts adored, be born again. Wherever there is boredom, wherever there is fear of failure, wherever there is temptation too strong to resist, wherever there is bitterness of heart, come, thou blessed one, with healing in thy wings.
Savior, be born in each of us who raises his face to thy face, not knowing fully who he is or who thou art, knowing only that thy love is beyond his knowing and that no other has the power to make him whole. Come, Lord Jesus, to each who longs for thee even though he has forgotten thy name. Come quickly. Amen. (3)
(1) John Shea, The Hour of the Unexpected ------ Quoted in Christianity Today Reflections Online http://www.christianity.net/ct/9TE/9TE048.html
(2) Henri J. Nouwen, Gracias! A Latin American Journal ------ Quoted in Christianity Today Reflections Online http://www.christianity.net/ct/9TE/9TE048.html
(3) Frederick Buechner, The Hungering Dark
------ Quoted in Christianity Today Reflections Online http://www.christianity.net/ct/9TE/9TE048.html
The Rev. Daniel Rondeau
drondeau@stmargarets.org
25 December 1999