Jesus' Manifesto of Blessedness

Matthew 5:1-12

Throughout the Scriptures, God’s presence is frequently encountered up on mountains; prophets have exchanges and receive instructions from God on mountains. Ancient people believed that, since the heavens were the locus of God, they could be closer to God on a mountaintop than anywhere else on earth.

And so, it is of no great surprise that when Jesus wants to teach his disciples about the nature of God and the values of the kingdom of God, where does Jesus go? The mountain.

As Jesus leads his disciples up to that high place, we are reminded of the prophetic promise from Isaiah, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD, to the house of the God of Jacob; that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths…” (Isaiah 2:2-4).

And it seems that teaching is exactly what Jesus has planned as he leads us up this mountain.

The gospel today begins what we know of as the Sermon on the Mount which, in the gospel of Matthew, goes on for three chapters. I hope you’ll join us in Faith Connections beginning next week, as we look more deeply into this Sermon that Jesus delivers there on the mountain, but here, today, at the very beginning Jesus gives the fundamentals for walking a godly path – he opens with what we know of as the “Beatitudes.”

You may be familiar with The Beatitudes from having heard them over the years. Maybe you even had to memorize some of them when you were in Sunday School.

When we hear these teachings, we might hear the message simply as one of comfort. After all, through this sermon, Jesus delivers affirmation to those who are meek, who mourn, who are desperate for justice and we acknowledge that includes many in our world today. Perhaps we see these affirmations as belonging to us.

We might find consolation in the beatitudes for the blessed assurance they offer those who suffer that they will not be forgotten but will receive ultimate justice. In fact, Jesus goes a step or two beyond comfort. “They won’t just be comforted in the future, but they are blessed, NOW,” he says.

A close reading of the Beatitudes reveals not just a set of promises, but a totally different set of  values than we are used to. These values lead us to see God’s desire for the way we should engage in the welfare of our neighbor, conduct our affairs with the other’s welfare in mind, and see ourselves as inter-related children of God, created, valued and loved equally by our maker. The beatitudes call us to a way of life consistent with God’s values, taught by Jesus; shaped by the cross.

The prophet Micah sums up God’s position in our first reading this morning: He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”

The problem is that we do a lousy job of walking humbly or doing justice. We forget God’s instructions to love kindness, given so that we might live in healthy relationships with God and with each other.

Instead, we create chaos and heartbreak, we perpetrate injustice and oppression by our action, and by our inaction.

To make clear the differences between what God values, and the worldly values under which we so often operate, we have an exercise this morning, for which I have a little help, using the framework of the Beatitudes.

I invite you to listen carefully as, to each point in the Beatitudes, there is a counterpoint, reflecting the worldly values that so often shape our real desires and behaviors. What you are about to hear are the Beatitudes as Jesus taught them, answered by corresponding “Meatitudes”, based on our common experience.

For instance, Jesus says:

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

            The world responds:

Blessed are the rich, for they will control their own fate.

Jesus says:

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

            To which the world answers:

 

Blessed are those who never mourn, for they will have no need for comfort.

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

Blessed are the arrogant, for they will conquer the earth.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

Blessed are those who compromise their ideals, for they will never be disappointed.

Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.

Blessed are those who justifiably retaliate, for they will have no need to receive mercy.

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

Blessed are the psychologically aware, for they will find themselves.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

Blessed are the warmakers, for they will be called defenders of peace, with justice for all.

Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are those who annihilate their attackers in the name of righteousness, for they will have prolonged their days on earth.

Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account.  Rejoice and be glad for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

Blessed are you when people accept you and honor you because of your willingness to conform to the status quo.  Take satisfaction in this, for in the same way the world has applauded its great people in the past.  [i]

          The point of reading these two, competing sets of values side by side is to illustrate that Jesus is teaching not just a theoretical lesson in niceness but a true way of life shaped by the love of God and the cross of Christ.

When we are so tied up in looking after ourselves first and controlling our own fate that we never mourn, or are arrogant, or compromise our ideals and the values Jesus teaches, we in fact fail to do what God has told us.

The truth is, we fail at these things all the time. Such is the weight of sin. It is what we confessed and sought forgiveness for at the beginning of our service this morning. We need God’s mercy and grace, and the constant reminder of Jesus, to cherish what God cherishes.  

          God does not desire lip-service, nor extraordinary acts of sacrifice and offering, as Micah points out.

          Rather, in Christ God has shown us, Beloved People, what is good:

To do justice,

to love kindness,

And to walk humbly with God.     

While the values of the kingdom life into which Jesus calls us reflect the goodness and kindness, generosity and self-giving capacity of God, the values of the world seek to not only preserve but to build up the self at all costs.

Through the beatitudes, Jesus reminds us what we are incapable of remembering for ourselves; the values of the kingdom, those counter-cultural, foolish, naïve values –the values that reflect the cross, which look nothing like our world.

Jesus showed us, by his associations, through his healing work, and by his teaching, that the least among us are among the most favored in the kingdom of God. Within God’s reign, those who have no hope are given hope.

Jesus’ values declare that every single life has value and should be honored, especially the lives of those who are the most at risk; these are the blessed. In ancient times, God names these in the Scriptures as the widow, the alien, and the orphan. Today we name them the poverty-stricken in every land, the disabled, the migrant, the refugee, the immigrant.

My friends, in his letter today, Paul reminds us that by the world’s standards we are fools to subscribe to Jesus’ teachings. We are ignorant to believe in a savior who teaches us that the way to eternal life is to follow the way of the cross. We are ridiculous to confess the name of Jesus Christ as Lord, and to declare that the light and life he gives, which are the hallmarks of his kingdom are worth more than any power the world can bestow.

In a world where power, wealth and status are the marks of success and must be preserved at all costs, Jesus calls foolish, ignorant, ridiculous believers blessed. “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness sake, blessed are the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers.”

In the Beatitudes, Jesus calls blessed those who dare to speak out against the oppression, injustice and persecution that marks our world.

The Beatitudes are much more than the mushy, sentimental treatise that we have often made of them. Rather, they are Jesus’ own call, his manifesto, if you will, to revolution, to change the world, by doing justice, by loving kindness, and by walking humbly with God.

Jesus declares that in the deep-down hunger that we feel for the oppressed, for the disadvantaged, the ridiculed and spat upon, for the marginalized, for the despised, we who mourn will be comforted as they are comforted.

We will be comforted as we reach out and speak for the vulnerable, as we make phone calls and write letters to protest violations of human rights and dignity. The meek will be blessed as those who follow God’s will to do justice, And to love kindness, And to walk humbly with God seek security for the least of our sisters and brothers in the world. We will be comforted when we use our voices to combat oppression, abandonment, cruelty and injustice.

Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Settlement President Linda Hartke said, "It is deeply ingrained in our faith and our understanding of the Bible that we're called to welcome the stranger and love and serve our neighbors," says. "Not the neighbors that we choose, but the neighbors that God gives to us."

Meekness and mercy are lived out in every day acts of kindness. God empowers not the superheroes and gurus but the merciful. The beatitudes aren’t a job description of who’s allowed into the kingdom, rather they offer a description of those who are already here, working in the trenches, humbly serving the one who, emptied of power and dignity on the cross, is raised to new life for the sake of the whole world.

Amen.

---

[i] The “‘Me’ Attitudes” is by Robert R. Castle

The Favor is Yours

Luke 1:26-38

“Greetings, favored ones. The Lord is with you and plans to do great things through you.” These words come straight out of the gospel text this morning, this text we associate with Mary because it does indeed tell the story of the angel Gabriel’s visit to Mary to announce to her that she has found favor with God, that God blesses her, that God has great things in store for her.

But I would submit to you that this is God’s greeting to you and me as well. “Greetings, favored ones. The Lord is with you and plans to do great things through you. And yet as we contemplate these words, we might well echo Mary’s response. “How can this be?” Mary was challenged to accept these words, because, she thought, she was but a young girl.

We might be challenged to accept these words because of our own circumstances. Pope Francis recently said, “Today, everything comes under the laws of competition and survival of the fittest, where the powerful feed upon the powerless. As a consequence, masses of people find themselves excluded and marginalized; without work, without possibilities, without any means of escape.”

Perhaps our challenge to believe that this blessing applies to us comes from the fact that we count ourselves among the marginalized. Or perhaps it comes from the fact that we know we are actually among “the powerful” and that knowledge convicts us and causes us guilt and grief as we consider our own culpability in the exclusion of the “masses” to which the pope alludes. How could we ever be considered “favored?”

Perhaps the challenge for us comes from the fact that deep down inside, we don’t feel worthy of such blessing. We are broken. We know it. We feel deeply the weight of our sin and our failures. We doubt, we have suffered grief, and we have caused others pain. We cannot see beyond our own needs and wants at times, and they, rather than our identity as children of God, become the driving force of our actions. For some of us, this challenge might come as we remember all the times we have tried – and failed – to live into this blessing. We bear all the scars of our human nature. As Martin Luther phrased it, we cannot, not sin.

Yesterday, in this very sanctuary, we held our first “Blue Christmas” worship service. Those who participated in the service and many who didn’t, know ambivalence and the pain and exclusion from celebrations warranted by this season of expectation and anticipation. Most have suffered losses, know grief that is all too fresh no matter how long they have held it. The joy and peace of Christmas may be hard for some of them to feel. They are not alone.

How then, can we truly be favored; how can God do great things through us? God doing something great for us, we might be able to believe. But given our human frailty, and all those realities just listed and more, how is it, truly, that God can do great things through us? These verses and the promised blessing may feel like too hard a pill for us to swallow.

Yet, the scriptures this morning point out to us the fact that God does both. The same God who created the universe from chaos and nothingness, who knows our name and numbers every hair on our head, who knows us to the very core of our being; This God loves us, in ways both profound and miraculous. In Christ, God has done wonderful things for us. God has seen beyond the obvious, and God has favored us. And now. the same God who did this crazy thing – choosing Mary, a humble, meek, inexperienced, unremarkable teenage girl to deliver into the world God’s love incarnate, chooses and favors you, and you, and you – in spite of the reality of our own “poor estate” – and in so doing, God blesses us to be a blessing to the world, because God loves us with a love beyond all knowing.

The psalm for today expresses the wonder at the core of Mary’s response to God’s blessing upon her, words that we also recognize as “Mary’s Song,” which forms the text of Luke’s gospel beginning just a few verses later:

You, Lord, have looked with favor on your lowly servant;
You have done great things for me, and holy is your name.
You have mercy on those who fear you;
You have shown the strength of your arm;
You scatter the proud in their conceit.
You cast down the mighty from their thrones; You lift up the lowly; You fill the hungry with good things; You send the rich away empty.
You remember your promise of mercy.

Before Mary’s “yes,” before she even has time to contemplate Gabriel’s words, or their implications, God has blessed Mary. In God’s “favor” God has set her apart and given her identity. God has done the same for me and for you through baptism. Before we even had time to respond, God blessed us, and God blesses us still. God has blessed us with life, and God has granted us eternal life. As we abide in God’s favor and blessing, God does great things through us. God didn’t bless Mary because of her answer, yet in trust and courage, Mary answered, “yes.”

Her willingness to trust the promises of God is the mark of true discipleship. What is it that she believes? That God favors her. That God has noticed her. That God knows her. That God has great plans for her. Her response? “Let it be. - Let it be with me according to your word.”

God has blessed us and has great things in store for us, too. And God has promised that through the Holy Spirit, God will continue a daily cycle of blessing, forgiveness, accompaniment, and empowerment, that through our words and actions, through our daily walk, God can do great things through us. As disciples of Christ through whom God blesses, forgives, empowers and loves others, may we, too, “let it be, O Lord, according to your Word.”

Blessing is a powerful thing. It is a rare thing. The funny thing is, true blessing is neither deserved nor earned; it is always a gift, a gift that in the church we often refer to as “grace.” As David Lose says, “Blessing intrudes into, interrupts, and ultimately disrupts our quid pro quo world to announce that someone sees us worthy and special apart from anything we’ve done. This is why this passage is so important… not because it lifts up Mary as the exception, but rather because it identifies her as an example of what can happen when you believe that God notices, favors, and blesses you.” The Lord is with you and plans to do great things through you. This is God’s promise and blessing for us.

May you, who are highly regarded by God, favored and blessed that God may do wonderful things through you, find power through the Holy Spirit to believe in God’s promise and abiding grace. May you be guided in all you do and say, that God may indeed, bless the world through you.

Salt Shakers and Burning Lamps

        I found it interesting that these images of salt and light come to us out of the gospel today. Just this week many in our region were starkly reminded of the value and necessity of both of these elements in our world.

About the time that I began seriously contemplating the words of these texts, I was also reading headlines from the newspaper like, “Salt Stores Diminished,” and “Predicted Storm May Pack a Wallop, While Salt Supplies Dwindle.” Salt, this precious commodity, has been both bane and blessing for many of us recently. It was just a little over a week ago that I think I must have washed half of the Eastern Shore’s annual supply of salt off my car. Maybe you’ve had a similar experience lately, because it seems as though we’ve been surrounded by SALT these past few weeks. Salt on the roads, salt on our cars, salt being tracked through this building and our homes, salt sprinkled on sidewalks. A nutrient I usually like to simply enjoy in my food has become a valuable source of protection against snow and ice.

And so, as evidenced by the anxiety with which these dire predictions of a looming salt shortage were made this week, and the fact that winter may not yet done with us, this image of salt struck a certain chord this week.

If you’ve been placed on a salt-free diet or had salt inadvertently left out of your recipe, then you have another reason to acknowledge that salt is something we really don’t want to be without. Salt by itself is, well, just salt. But salt added to food brings out its flavors. Salt used as a preservative keeps meat and other foods from spoiling.

Yet, this element has held a different kind of meaning and power throughout history, particularly in Jesus’ time.

Mined out of the earth, the ancient SALT industry could make empires rich, as they rationed and taxed it. Control of salt stores could determine which side was victorious in war, and, at different points in history, salt has been the currency of commerce. In Jesus’ day, (as it is still today in some parts of the world), salt was necessary for the preservation of food—having it or not made the difference between life and death. While in the recent decades our society has over-dosed on sodium and many of us are now on low-sodium diets, both then and now, SALT is an essential ingredient of life, present in every cell of our bodies, and useful in so many ways.

And yet salt on its own is, as Cardinal Suhard once wrote, hopeless, unhandy, unmanageable, and inedible. “You can’t do anything with salt alone; in a time of famine, you cannot eat it; in a time of drought, you can’t drink it; it only would make things worse. Salt alone is no good; it makes the field unfertile, it kills life, it preserves death, it is heavy and useless. It becomes useful only when it is used as Jesus indicates in the text today, mixed up with other things, and he explains as well how we should mixed up. We are not salt, we are the salt of the earth, we should be mixed up with the reality around us.”

That other image named in our text, light, is another element whose value we can especially appreciate this week – especially when, amidst yet another winter storm and frigid temperatures over a million people throughout this region lost power. Last night over one hundred thousand of them spent their fourth night in the cold and dark last night, due to power outages from the storm. For many, no power meant no light, no heat, no plumbing. For utility crews, downed trees and wires brought urgency to the dangerous work that has kept them out working in miserable conditions for long days and nights, trying to restore electricity to customers throughout the region whose homes and lives are endangered by the loss of power and resultant lack of light.

So, while we might be focused on the issues of power and what it means to be without it, what does it mean when Jesus says, “You are the light of the world”?

In both cases in our text today, Jesus uses the plural “you” in this continuation of Jesus’ teachings from the Sermon on the Mount which we began last week. These words from the Gospel of Matthew beckon to us, they call and commission us as a community of Jesus’ disciples. The Sermon on the Mount comes from a section in Matthew’s gospel that serves as a sort of training manual for those who follow Jesus; through these words, we learn more about the ways of discipleship. And so, by use of the second person plural, Jesus is telling us that together, “Ya’ll are the salt of the earth. Ya’ll are the light of the world.” It is the value and promise of the community of disciples that is being lifted up.

These are words spoken not simply to individuals living on the fringe, but specifically addressed to a community shaped in identity and mission for the sake of Jesus Christ, through God’s gift of grace.

Last week we read the verses just before these, known as the beatitudes. You might remember that in those verses, blessings were declared upon the meek, the poor in spirit, those who mourn, and so on. By God’s blessing, saltiness and light - are already theirs by God’s grace. Despite the hostility of your world, you all are salt, you all are light.

And so I ask you, are you feeling particularly salty this morning? Is your light shining brightly? Jesus tells us, You are light, meant to shine, not to be hidden under a bushel, but meant to be seen by others.

Let us remember what salt and light meant to the people of Jesus’ time. Salt and light were both precious commodities; both sustain life, neither can be produced easily on one’s own, they are gifts of creation that require careful ingenuity to access and conserve, and they make all the difference for life.

In first century Palestine, the image of light was pregnant with meaning. Just think of how many times, especially in the past weeks, we have noted the images of light and life in our scriptures. Isaiah promised the “great light” that would shine in the darkness. And now Jesus is using these elements, salt and light – essential, life-sustaining elements, to convey something of extreme value to the people who surround him, those who are listening to his teaching.

Light in the Body of Christ is created and shared when God’s work is done and God’s love is shared. The Holy Spirit of God gives and sustains that light, by God’s grace. The light is meant to shine. It is meant to be seen through the words and deeds of Christ’s disciples, meant to be seen and witnessed in community. The words of verse 16 are spoken within the baptismal rite as one member of the community shares the light of Christ with the newest member of the Body of Christ: “Let your light so shine before others that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in Heaven.” I wonder if we shouldn’t change the way we say these words, to reflect the communal aspect of this light – it is borne I community; as children of God and members of the Body of Christ, we are never alone in shining or casting this light.

You, people of Grace Lutheran Church, are salt and light. Through the cross of Christ, you have been made valuable, you are precious, you are powerful. And, like salt and light, you exist for the good of others. Like salt and like light, you are meant to be intermixed and intermingled with the world—you weren’t created to work alone, or to exist for your own well-being. Combined with other elements, salt preserves, adds flavor, melts, cleans, stabilizes…makes a difference. Combined with other elements, light illumines what was hidden, makes visible the unseen. But here’s the thing: Jesus says, right here and right now, you are salt, and you are light. And, yes, there are of course many ways you are still becoming the salt and light Jesus desires for you to be, but there are also many ways you are already salting and lighting our world. I see you, salt and light, being what you were created to be, when you gather on Sunday morning: sharing caring conversations with one another, reaching out to those going through tough times, offering words of welcome to those who are here for the first time, sharing tithes and offerings to support the ministry God is doing in and through this congregation.

As the Body of Christ, as community working together as salt and light, I see you providing meals for the lonely, providing clothing and essentials for migrant workers, offering the use of this building for groups from the community around us who need a place to meet, contributing to the Souper Bowl of Caring, providing meals and gifts for our poorer brothers and sisters in Easton during the holidays.

But here’s the really remarkable thing about salt and light: neither are controlled very well. You start shaking that salt shaker, and the salt particles land where they will, often ending up everywhere. Road salt melts the ice then clings to your car, your shoes, the floor, anywhere you don’t want it to be. A single candle lit on a dark night can be seen 30 miles away. No, salt and light are not easily contained…but, sometimes, that can be a very good thing.

You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world. May it be so. Amen.

The Story We Know so Well

Christmas Eve, 2013

Luke 2:1-20

          A friend tells the story of a chauffeur who had driven a chemistry professor to dozens of speaking engagements. He’d heard the same canned speech scores of times. On the way to yet another engagement he said, "Professor, I believe I could give your speech myself; I’ve heard it so often." The professor said, "I’ll bet you $50 you can’t." "You’re on," said the chauffeur.

He stopped the car and the two exchanged clothes. They arrived at the banquet, the chauffeur dressed in a tuxedo. Sitting at the head of the table, he stood up and gave the speech verbatim. There was a standing ovation when he was finished.

The emcee got up and said, "You know, we are so fortunate to have such a fine resource with us tonight, since we have a little extra time, let’s have some questions and answers.” The first question was asked and the chauffeur stood there dumbfounded, clearing his throat in nervousness. Finally he said, "That’s just about the dumbest question I ever heard. In fact it is so dumb I bet even my chauffeur could answer that question."

The gospel we have just read is a story that most of us have probably heard scores of times as well. We even hear it in secular circles, - even Linus in the Charlie Brown’s Christmas movie tells this story of the Nativity. These days, it is often repeated not as a story of faith, but as a sweet sentimental tale incorporated into the myths of many peoples. And so, I wonder what is there that I can say to you tonight that would be any different from what you’ve already heard? After all, many of you have probably told this Nativity tale yourselves many times before. It’s probably pretty safe to say that any of you could probably swap places with me up here and tell this story of the Birth of the Christ Child. Well, I won’t ask you to do that, but I wonder if you’ll help me tell the story – just fill in the blanks, if you will.

The story takes place in (Bethlehem). There was a man named (­Joseph) who had traveled there with his betrothed, (Mary) who was great with child.

We know “great with child” means that Mary was really, really pregnant! As luck would have it, with no room in the inn, tired and hungry as they were, the couple accepted the only place offered to them, where they might rest. Instead of a nice, comfy, clean room in a house or inn in downtown Bethlehem, Joseph and Mary ended up staying in a (stable). And as the timing of any birth tends to be unpredictable, often coming at the very worst, or least convenient of times, as Mary and Joseph are staying there in the stable, the baby (Jesus) is born, wrapped in strips of cloth, and laid in a (manger).

Before long, the new family had company. From the fields came the (shepherds), who had been nearly blinded by the brightness of the glory of an (angel) who had appeared to them in the field. This angel of the Lord announced to them the wonder of the birth of this special child, the Savior, the Messiah. So off went to visit the baby, (Jesus) in the (manger) at (Bethlehem).

I appreciate all the help you’ve given me in the telling of the story. But I wonder, in the telling of it, if we don’t sometimes gloss over the blemishes in the scene. I wonder if we don’t romanticize the details, to make it into what we want it to look like; to make it into what we want it to be. It’s not our fault, really; the story has inspired thousands of drawings, paintings, and sculptures. The scene has been depicted in cards, movies, cartoons, and books. It has been written of in hymns and Christmas carols, sacred and secular songs. Take our crèche here for instance. It’s beautiful! Like most nativity scenes, the characters are clean, neatly dressed, and really quite lovely, sweet and serene. The images imprinted on our minds about this story are probably pretty consistent with the characters as they appear here.

Not long ago, I was shopping in a gift shop, looking for some last minute Christmas gifts, and I came upon the selection of nativity sets for sale. They came in all shapes and sizes. Some were very traditional, others quite contemporary; the nativity sets were from various cultures, and some showed characters with dark, even very black skin. Most, of course, like the ones we find in the majority of stores and catalogs in the Western world, revealed fair skinned characters, and one even displayed a curly blonde-haired blue-eyed baby Jesus.

The truth of the matter is that we love the story of the birth of Jesus, and we tend to make this story, and God, into an image that is comfortable, an image that is like us, when we are at our best, or what we imagine our best to be. We tell the sweet story of the journey this teenage girl, Mary, and her betrothed, Joseph, make into Bethlehem. We’re tempted to ignore their weariness and exhaustion after such a long trip, a trip made mandatory by the oppressive occupying government of their region, and their discouragement when they found “no vacancy” on the tongues of every innkeeper in town.

We overlook the terror that must have seized this innocent young girl, with the first pangs of the labor that would bring her babe into the world; realizing that she would have to birth this child not in the presence and with the help and skill of a midwife or even of the women of her village, with wisdom and knowledge they would share with her, but alone, in this unlikely place, among strangers, with only Joseph to tend her.

We ignore the reality that this child, the Son of God, was born in a mixture of fear and hope, not into a sweet smelling manger of our imaginings, surrounded by the docile, cuddly, freshly scrubbed cattle and sheep of our nativity scenes, but in the dim interior light of a dusty, dank, rustic barn where real animals lived!

And while Mary lay recovering from this birth, preparing to travel again with a newborn infant in tow, the shepherds come a-calling. Shepherds, men who lived in the fields with their sheep, who were themselves considered pretty lowly characters – are their first visitors. 

Now, I’m not trying to steal your Christmas magic. We should cherish Christmas! And I’m not saying that it’s wrong to embrace the story, to pull out those nativities and decorations, even if they include the hopelessly idealistic crèche scenes like the one I have in my own home.

Come as we have tonight, to this Christmas Eve, it’s our tendency to air-brush the blemishes of this story, freshen the air with sweet lullabies and carry on with our holiday.

But let’s not miss the real good news for us this night; the good news that God breaks through the fairy-tale nativity, and gives us Jesus. God breaks through the sin and the grime of the real world and presents us with a miracle - the incarnation of God-with-us, Jesus Christ. God bursts into our fear and sadness, our pain, our failures, our defeat, and the regret that makes us yearn for the fairy-tale and redeems us through the real deal – the birth of our Savior.

The real miracle of Christmas – is that God has chosen to dwell not with the rich or powerful, not with the air-brushed or perfect, and not with the high or mighty. God has chosen to dwell with the lowly, the unexpected, and the broken. God lifts up those who are powerless, and those who find themselves in over their heads and aren’t quite sure how their story will end. God has chosen to enter into the very real, dirty, sinful, scared, confused, chaotic, diverse, and sometimes – let’s face it – often, messy world.  And here, amid the weakness and vulnerability of human birth, God makes God's intentions for humanity fully known. God is love, love made manifest, as God takes human form.

God works in and through a young, innocent woman and grubby shepherds; God also works in and through us. God takes the weak and voiceless and places them right smack dab in the middle of the story of our salvation; God takes the despised of the world and raiss them up for God’s own good purpose. God doesn’t just break into the world, God transforms it, from a place of darkness and despair to a place of healing and hope. God doesn’t erase our blemishes, God uses them. The same God who created the world and everything in it, who loves the whole creation, who blesses and fills the earth, is the same God who overcomes death and the grave through the life, death, and resurrection of the Christ.  

          So tonight, let us sing our sweet Christmas carols. May our “Glorias” fill the air. May we gaze upon this crèche and know deep in our hearts the story it portrays is our story too. May we remember that as God lifted up the lowly and made their own songs glad with the wonders God wrought for them, God lifts us up through the gift in the manger, transforming us through God’s abundant love that makes everything new.

May you know the love made manifest in the Christ Child.  Let us sing, then, of God’s redeeming love until all know that “unto you is born this day the Savior, Jesus Christ the Lord!”

Blessed, Merry Christmas!