Sermons for the Month
Without The "Stuff", Would Christmas Still Come?
DATE: December 22, 2002
SERVICE: Fourth Sunday In Advent
TEXT: Luke 1:26-38“To all of you Saints here this morning, grace and peace to you from God our Father, from His Son, Jesus Christ and His Holy Spirit. AMEN
The last Sunday of Advent has arrived, and we are beginning to move from the time of preparation to the time of celebration. The church is decorated; we're just waiting to illumine the tree lights on Christmas Eve. Gifts have been provided for families in need, both by church members and by the preschool. Many a Christmas treat has been consumed in this place. Today we have begun singing Christmas hymns - just a few days early - and singers and instrumentalists (will move) have guided us to the doorstep of Christmas with beautiful music. Our time of waiting is drawing to a close, and the evening of joyous celebration is upon us. This is a wonderful time … BUT what if we had come this morning and there was no tree and no decorations? What if the gifts had disappeared before they were delivered? What if the goody trays were empty? What if the singers and musicians vanished into thin air? Would Christmas still come? It did for the Whos in Whoville. I'm sure you remember Dr. Seuss' book, How The Grinch Stole Christmas. (By the way, that story was published in 1957 - how is that possible?) The Grinch - large green fury guy that he was - hated Christmas - reportedly because his heart was two sizes too small. He vowed to find a way to keep Christmas from coming, and came up with a wonderful, awful idea. So, disguised as Santa, he crept into Whoville and snatched everything having to do with Christmas. He took the presents, and especially delighted in grabbing the noisy ones. He took the stockings and the decorations, and he crammed Christmas trees up chimbleys, very nimbly. He even confiscated the Who-roast-beast for the Who Christmas feast, along with Who-hash and every other crumb of food, so that the only bit left was too small for a mouse. You know the story; at a quarter past dawn he hauled it all up to Mt. Crumpit, where he intended to dump it. He anxiously waited to hear the Whos cry BOO-HOO. Can you hear it? I can - it sticks in my mind from those old Christmas specials - a sound rising low and starting to grow. It's the tiniest breath of a song. "Every Who down in Who-ville, the tall and the small, was singing, without any presents at all. He hadn't stopped Christmas for coming! It came! Somehow or other, it came just the same!" Even without "the stuff" it was Christmas, and the Whos found a reason to join hands and sing. What if that happened to us? What if, somehow, it was all gone? Would we still sing? Perhaps some of you who have known economic hardship have experienced that very thing. Or, perhaps, like me, you have had Christmases marked by loss, or illness, or conflict. How well I remember the Christmas a few years after my Mom died - when I was about 22-years-old - my Father had major back surgery on Christmas Eve day. We had no family in the city where he was treated; it was about four hours from my hometown and about an hour from where I lived. I remember sitting with him in a hospital room, alone on Christmas Eve, watching "White Christmas" on television. Then, still alone, I went to spend the night in an old dormitory where housing was provided for family members. I remember watching the Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing, "The Messiah", on a rickety black and white television. There were no gifts, no decorations, and Christmas dinner was semi-warm hospital food. But, somehow the music from the Messiah echoed in my head, "…and the glory, the glory of the Lord, will be revealed." I was still sad and lonely, but something inside me stirred, and it was still Christmas. It is possible to sing, even when doing so seems unlikely. In a sense, that's what Mary did. The story is so familiar to us that its shock value is sometimes lost. We read that Mary is perplexed by Gabriel's words - "Rejoice, blessed one!" There was reason for her to be amazed. After all, to quote one of the commentators, "Mary is a female in a world that prizes males, an almost-child in a world that reveres age and wisdom, a nobody in a nowhere town." (Sermon Writer for Advent B, Dick Donovan) She was not prepared for angels, or for the news that came to her. She is not a mature, self-assured, saintly woman. In fact, the Gospel lesson does not reveal why she is qualified to be the mother of Jesus. And, to top it all off, the message is a challenging one. Not only does she face public disgrace immediately, but also an unknown future following her Son, the savior of the world. Still, this ordinary, faithful young woman did not seem to skip a beat - other than wondering how such a thing would be possible. When the angel told her that this was God's doing, Mary said, "Here am I." She seems so quiet and calm. "Let it be," she says, and her life was never the same. A few days later, when her cousin Elizabeth confirmed that she was indeed the mother of the Lord, Mary literally sang. "My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my savior, for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant." You see, it is possible to sing even when doing so seems unlikely. Mary trusted in the midst of the unexpected and potentially unpleasant events that God would show up, as promised. Indeed, that is the promise of Advent, the great good news of Christmas, that God has shown up in our world and our lives in the Bethlehem babe, Jesus. And, He is always among us. So it is, to quote our old friend the Grinch, Christmas does come even without the ribbons and tags, without the packages, boxes or bags. If we can grasp that, than we, like the green furry friend whose heart tripled in size, will be transformed. And, our hearts will break out in song. AMEN