Readings
Isaiah 9:2-7
Psalm 96
Titus 2:11-14
Luke 2:1-20
This time of the year is filled with romantic images. Whether it is the decorations of the season or the films and tv shows that fill our airwaves, we are invited to think of this as “the most wonderful time of the year.” And, for many of us, church is no exception. We hear the cherished story of the birth of Jesus, of God becoming one of us. We hear of angels, shepherds, and a manger in a stable. We hear of a child wrapped in bands of cloth and a mother who ponders all these things in her heart. It is a story so familiar that most of us could probably tell it with little effort.
And thanks to St. Francis of Assisi, our sense of this story is shaped by the image created by the Christmas creche. In a creche, much like the one we have here in front of me, we see a rustic and warm environment with beatific animals and an inviting bed for the child.
Unfortunately, as wonderful as these images are, they have little to do with the image intended in our scripture. The Gospel of Luke intends a very different image than the one we all grew up on. It is an image that, if you haven’t heard someone tell it to you before, may be shocking. But trust me, it truly is good news and a better alternative to all those romantic images we just reviewed.
Our story opens with Mary and Joseph being forced to travel a significant distance to be counted for a state-imposed tax. They, like most of the population, are once again suffering under the oppressive hand of the Roman Empire. This is yet another example of the hardships that Jews of Jesus’ time experienced. And unlike modern times, there were no Holiday Inn Expresses that could put you up for a week or two. Yes, there were inns, but they were often small and very expensive for the average person. Mary and Joseph would have looked for extended family to put them up. A commercial establishment would have likely been out of their reach.
Even so, they find themselves displaced and desperate having found nowhere to stay. Finally, we hear, someone offers them a stable to stay in. At best this might have been the lower level of what we would recognize as a townhome, where the lowest level functions as a barn. At worst, this would have left them in a shallow cave exposed to the elements. And let’s be clear about staying in a barn. There’s nothing cozy about it. Barns that provide lodging for animals, unless freshly cleaned, are often soiled with manure and urine. And while I am sure that the expecting couple were grateful to have any place to stay, it would not have been all that pleasant. And as for the manger, most mangers in that region would have been stone troughs that could have been filled with either hay or water depending on the needs of the animals. Regardless of what filled the manger, it would have been a cold bed requiring as much as they could muster to line it. It is into this environment that the son of God is born.
We also hear that in the fields there are shepherds who are keeping watch over their flocks. They too have been displaced by the crowds now occupying the city. But again, make no mistake, this is not a pastoral image. In the ancient world shepherds were at the bottom of the social ladder and were often thought of as thieves and bandits. They were notorious and looked upon with suspicion. No one would expect a miraculous apparition to occur for them. And yet, such a thing happens. The angels tell them of the birth of the Messiah and tell them that this is good news for everyone. They tell them how to find the baby and then sing the praises of God and bestow on them a blessing.
It is these local reprobates who show up at the stable looking for Jesus. But despite what one might expect they are moved by what they’ve been told and share the story with those present. We’re told that all who heard it were awestruck, which would have included those who first heard this story. And Mary, rather than being afraid or wanting them to leave, ponders all that they have said in her heart.
This is anything but the pastoral scene we have been raised on. There are no wise men (at least not yet), the shepherds are not respectable members of society, and Jesus is, to put it mildly, born in the most impoverished of conditions. Rather than a palace, there is a barn. Rather than a throne, there is a manger. Jesus, God’s only son, is not honored by the powerful and pious, just the opposite.
Now I promised you good news and it is there in the story we just heard.
You see the truth of the Jesus story, including his birth, is that because of his humble origins and the relative poverty he experienced there is nothing in the human condition that is alien to him. The Gospel of Luke wants us to understand that there is no one and nothing outside the experience and the compassion of God.
This story, like the many stories of Jesus, calls us to recognize that the love of God reaches into our lives and the lives of every person. It is as one Christmas carol recalls a time when “love came down at Christmas.” It calls us to recognize that there is nowhere in our lives that grace cannot flow. The gift we are being given in the nativity of our Lord is the gift of abiding and unconditional love.
We can take hope in knowing that in the midst of our joy, God is present. That’s the easy one. But the harder one is when life isn’t joyful or easy. Even so, we can take comfort in knowing that when life is not perfect, or suffering is present, God is there too. We can be assured that in the breadth of human experience there is no where that God is absent. If Christ came into the world in such humble and desperate circumstances and reached out to those on the margins, then we can be assured that we are not left bereft.
But more over, just as Christ came into the human story as a poor Jewish Palestinian baby, Christ will come to us as well. The great mystery of Christmas is not simply that the son of God was born in this way, but that he also is born in us and makes a home in us if we are but willing to embrace him.
Each Christmas, we are not simply being called to celebrate the birth of Jesus. No, we are also being called to be that love for the world. We are being called to make it real for others. We are being called, in our own place and time, to be the nativity of Jesus; to make real the love of God for the world in which we live.
When we do so we welcome the shepherds of our day. When we do so we make the cold and hard places of our lives warm and welcoming. And amid all that, we find ample words and deeds to ponder in our own hearts.
Love came down at Christmas. May the hope and blessing of Christ’s incarnation fill us all with joy and peace.