Christmas Eve Sermon
Text: Luke 2:1-20
Pastor Jean M. Hansen
I was walking down the hallway in the Independent Living apartments at Concordia when I stopped mid-step. I could not believe what I was seeing. There on the shelf by someone’s door was the nativity set of my childhood - not just the Holy Family - but shepherds and sheep, as well as other animals, magi who had arrived early and, of course, Mary, Joseph and the infant Jesus (who can actually be removed from the manger!)
I was in awe; my family acquired this very same set some 70 years ago, shortly before I was born, and it was a staple of my childhood Christmas. But, bit by bit, the pieces were damaged and discarded. I brought all that is left; Mary, whose backside is no more; a donkey without its ears, a sheep who has trouble standing up, and, in the best condition, Jesus and the manger. Poor Joseph fell onto the tile floor a couple years ago and was not repairable.
I am always on the lookout for this particular nativity set, in thrift and antique shops, and on-line, and have seen many that are similar, but have never seen the exact one until last week. There it was, sitting on that shelf, calling my name. Let’s just say that I did not consider (for long) slipping a piece or two in my book bag, although I did contemplate knocking on the door and offering to buy their treasure. I was kept from doing so by not wanting to embarrass the Faith members who are close neighbors and who at supper might hear about a crazy lady who appeared out of nowhere asking to buy the nativity set that has been in our family for decades. “Can you believe it”, they might say, “She said she is a pastor…at Faith Lutheran; isn’t that your congregation?”
Besides …there is something hopeful about my imperfect pieces. Perhaps they are a reminder that God was willing to come to our imperfect world.
The story we shared tonight is oh, so, familiar to most of us, so easy for us to imagine. We see an exhausted Mary and Joseph, looking for lodging after their long journey, and ending up in the stable…or a cave…or a dirt-floored attached room where livestock were kept. We can smell manure and hay and hear the grunts and slurps and cackles of the animals.
We do not focus much on a young woman in the distress of childbirth, with her anxious husband doing what he can to help her, but it’s the newborn, all wrinkled, with olive skin and dark hair, that grabs our attention. We see him resting in a feeding trough, tired from his own journey into this new world, being peered at by rough, filthy shepherds, the least likely ones to have the privilege of seeing him first. They are filled with awe and wonder, as an encounter with an angel proclaiming, “…for I am bring you good news of great joy for all people,” is bound to produce.
What we are imagining is incarnate love and vulnerability. Author and theologian C.S. Lewis once wrote that, “to love at all is to be vulnerable.” Or another way to put it is that one who loves must be willing to accept vulnerability. We humans are not fond of being vulnerable, and often try to avoid feeling as if we need others. Yet the story we share tonight is of infinite love, and the one who is vulnerable is God.
Commentator Leonard Vander Zee writes that God is vulnerable in a peculiar way, “God is the great, almighty, and holy God. God is the one (person) in all the universe who is by nature utterly untouchable, utterly self-sufficient. God doesn’t need anything. God is insulated, invulnerable and in heaven’s glory.” (1)
But God also is love. And so, at Bethlehem, God bared the divine heart. God does not wish to be God without us, so God becomes God with us. Pastor Vander Zee goes on, “God comes down from the far reaches of eternity to become an infant. In that infant, born of poor people in a stable, God comes to earth and says, ‘I love you. Can’t you see, I love you,’ Look at this baby, Jesus.” (2)
There he is, settled in that manger, a completely vulnerable human being. If you’ve visited art museums you may have noticed that the renaissance artists often painted the scene of Jesus’ birth, oddly the subjects of these art works are often attired in 15th century clothing. Also, the infant Jesus often is not wrapped in “bands of cloth”, as is described in scripture, but is laying naked on Mary’s lap. In other words, vulnerable.
Or, as Mary Ellen Ashcroft points out, “to get ready for Christmas, God undressed. God stripped off divine finery and appeared - how embarrassing - naked on the day he was born.” (3) As we sing every Christmas, God became, “veiled in flesh,” or as I remember preaching years ago, God put on flesh and walked around.
This, putting it mildly, is surprising, as is the reality that our Risen Lord continues to “walk around” among us still. This is something that we tend to forget during contented times, and are more inclined to remember in difficult times, but often question.
In his book Honest Advent Scott Erickson writes that the surprise of Christ’s incarnation is that it happened among the challenges of Mary’s day as it is (still) happening every day, he says, “in your lack of resources, your overcrowded lodging, your unlit night sky, your humble surroundings.” Just as was true that first Christmas, similar surprises abound.
He continues:
• It’s a surprise that life can come through barren places.
• It’s a surprise that meek nobodies partake in divine plans.
• It’s a surprise that messengers are sent all along the hidden journey of life to let you know you’re not alone.
• It’s a surprise that you will be given everything you need to accomplish what you’ve been asked to do.
• It’s a surprise that nothing can separate you from the love of God. Nothing can separate you from love.” (4)
That’s the surprising message of Christmas; because God loves us, God became vulnerable, arriving among us as a vulnerable infant whose eventual vulnerable suffering led to the invulnerability of resurrection and the promise of forgiveness and new life for God’s vulnerable beloved ones - us.
So…perhaps I’ll stick with my vulnerable nativity figures, for they are a reminder that we are loved by a willing-to-be vulnerable God. AMEN
(1) “Christmas Eve, Year A, Meditation: Christmas” by Leonard Vander Ze, www.cepreaching.org
(2) Same as #1
(3) Same as #1
(4) “Sermon for Christmas Eve, “We Know by Heart” by Beth Quick, Luke 2:1-20, Dec. 24, 2020, www.bethquick.com