Isaiah 9: 2-7
NPMC
Psalm 96
Christmas Day
Titus 2: 11-14
December 25, 2007
Luke 2: 1-20
Anita Retzlaff
Sitting with the Shepherds
Grace and peace to you from God the Father of our Lord and Savior, Jesus the
Christ. In our moment of silent meditation we give thanks to God, for we are
joyful today at the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ, our hope and our stability.
For today our waiting is over; the world has turned. Anticipation has turned to
realization, to conviction. We celebrate with the angels and give God thanks for
all that we see and know of grace come to earth, surrounding us, lifting us out
of the mundane and holding us close. Let us pray. Jesus Christ, Lord and Savior,
you have come to bring us home, to bring us forever into the heart of God. Amen
Most of us arrive at a place in our lives, at one time or another, where all
that we have accumulated in terms of possessions, all that we have experienced
in our relationships, as rich as they might be, and all of our dreams combined -
are not enough. The birth of Jesus into the commonplace of daily human life
points to something that promises to fill us, to fulfill our yearning for
completion, to know the experience of “enough.”
Jesus came into “the everyday”, born into the world as we all are born. Into the
relative ordinariness of his appearing he brings hope. And that is both the
miracle and the danger of it all. The miracle is obvious. The knowledge and
manifestation of eternity is born in a stable. The danger is that we might miss
its significance; that we might never truly experience the peace and the ecstasy
of “enough.”
And to hear the dangerous miracle once more we immerse ourselves in the
narrative of Luke chapter 2. Having read and heard the story so many times we
think we know it like we know our social insurance number - can’t quite repeat
it all but being that it is so familiar we take it for granted: assume it as
part of our identity. The opening scene of the story, the commentary on the
birth of Mary’s firstborn son is uneventful, anti-climactic, understated. It
does, however, highlight the context and the setting of God-come-to-earth. The
divine is made manifest in a setting and a situation that remains starkly
unchanged today. The people who live in the Occupied Territories of the Middle
East on this very day are controlled and managed by means of identification
papers not unlike the purposes and necessity of Caesar’s census-taking 2000
years ago.
Political realities converge to bring Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem for a
homecoming event mandated by the powers that be. It is a busy time and a
congested space and they find a place to rest tucked into a cattle shed. I
wonder whether they were not actually quite fortunate to find such a good place,
a temporary but warm resting spot. Whether it was fortune or misfortune, Jesus
the baby is born without pomp and fanfare. The angels, wise men, shepherds and
all have not yet arrived. Something significant must take place first. The
miracle and the danger present themselves, now, at the same time.
The moment of truth! God announces his coming in the way that God most always
announces his coming: in the very stuff of obscurity, ordinariness, even
awkwardness. The dear shepherds receive the invitation to participate in this
wondrous thing that has happened. God’s glory is foisted upon them, blinding,
overwhelming, unexpected. It is fearsome and fearful. Astounding that God’s
announcement comes to these poor ‘shmucks’ as they tend to their daily duties;
in this case their sheep! The sign is not given to the elite in ivory towers who
pretend to deal in the sublime as a matter of course. NO, the sign, the miracle
is set before those who just might pay attention; those who are, in the midst of
pretty ordinary, daily circumstances, possibly open to a new thing that promises
to break the monotony.
God’s glory shines upon them as the messenger, the Angel of God, brings light
into a dark night, and if they are willing to check it out, promises to bring
hope into drudgery. The light shines, as we hear from the prophet Isaiah many
years before this and NOW, at this announcement upon the hillside, the guys on
the job actually pay attention; they are given a sign and they follow it up. The
danger has been overcome - for now.
A poem by Ann Weems:
Sitting on the Hillsides
Most of us who gather in Bethlehem on this night
are not the star seekers.
We’ve not traveled our dreams
month after month and year after year,
poring over predictions and promises.
Most of us sit on our hillsides
tending our sheep,
business as usual.
Oh, we heard rumors of stars,
but we don’t really give ourselves to seeking.
After all, there’s more than enough to do
in the daily tending.
We’re simply not on the lookout for stars,
nor expecting any light in our darkness.
I suppose the important thing is,
in the light of the glory of the Lord,
to recognize the voice of an angel
and to get up
and in spite of our sheep
to go even unto Bethlehem
to see this thing that has happened.
(Kneeling in Bethlehem)
“To you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the
Lord. This will be a sign for you, you will find….” ‘To you… for you… you will
find’: the glory of the Lord shared with the shepherds and with us. Do you
believe it? Do we believe it? Are we open to leaving our daily routine when God
announces a new thing or do we miss it?
What is required is a response, a desire to follow up and to seek out new
possibilities. Our responses to God’s announcements will likely be somewhat out
of character for us as it was for the shepherds. Nudged by the proclamation and
passion of the rather “over the top” celestial reporters the sheep handlers
hastily head for town leaving their sheep behind them. A shepherd does not leave
sheep unattended under any circumstances for sheep are always at risk of falling
prey to predators that stock them through the darkness of night. Whatever the
risks, the shepherds leave their post in search of a baby king. And so it is,
that the pull of God’s grace compels them to risk, compels us to follow signs
given: to push the edges.
I recently read an interview of an American preacher, Will Campbell. He
describes himself as a “bootleg preacher.” His activities were often suspect as
a vocal advocate for economic justice and racial equality in the southern U.S.
When asked what in his career as a preacher, activist and author gives him the
greatest sense of satisfaction, he answered, “Just trying, you know—just showing
up. I was no hero in the civil rights movement, but I was there, and that was
something. If anything in our faith were taken literally, it would be so
revolutionary that we wouldn’t recognize it…. We don’t live by our own
preachments. If we did, everything would change.” (Christian Century, Nov. 27,
2007, p.9)
The call of God is compelling. The shepherds answered it. When face to face with
the Angel of God they moved, with haste, to discover what God wants them to see
and to know. So too with us! There are many things that move us to action or to
tears or to intense contemplation. Music is one; chords and cadence of
symphonies stir us, transporting us out of the ordinary. We are moved and
compelled by our passions, physical passion, parental protectiveness, loyalty,
love, conviction. We are moved to action by fear and sometimes, coercion. These
are the obvious things that light a fire under us.
Will we be compelled to check out the signs that God sets before us or are we in
danger of missing them? Will these announcements fall upon open and expectant
hearts? I believe that the miraculous will have its way with us and I believe
that there are times when we will do the uncharacteristic thing, step outside of
familiarity and risk the consequences. We were made for God and we were fine
tuned to seek out hope that keeps arriving - always new.
We do as the shepherds do. They leave the field and with all speed go into town
to see for themselves. They follow their hearts because God’s voice compels
them. It happens. Signs from God come to us. We may be skeptical but it happens.
With praise we join the messengers of God on that Christmas day and throughout
all time as we proclaim together, “Glory to God and on earth, peace, forever and
ever.
What we heard on Christmas Day
By Julie L. Moore
Silence like early morning, like indigo
Deepening at the bottom of the sea.
For hundreds of years.
No voice to say this is the way
Or tomorrow, he comes. They raised
Their questions, rose each morning, found
No answers. Unless you count
Wait. But after the hush
Of prophecy, the long line of law,
Exile centuries ago just a bitter aftertaste
In their empty mouths, sting
Of dust on their ribs dulled, almost imperceptible,
A baby wailed. And if you listened close,
You knew your ears did not deceive you.
He had entered the ebony tomb
Of Earth, loosening at last his long-held tongue,
The star a halo of song blaring overhead,
God is not dead, nor does he sleep.
May God’s love fill your hearts this Christmas Day. AMEN