Spending Christmas With John
Text: John 1.1-5, 10-14 (and, Philippians 2.5-15)
I tend to find myself getting lost in the well told story of the Child's
birth we find in those first two chapters of Luke's witness. The angelic
presence, the visions and dreams, the love of aunt and niece...and those
betrothed, the Bethlehem journey, the swaddling cloths, the shepherds,
the mother's pondering—these all make for such a touching drama of life
and the things that life bring to us. Or, perhaps better said as, the
things that bring us to life!
To think of an infinite, almighty One becoming so human, what a radical
God we serve! Gosh, it is sometimes too great a task to sacrifice in
this busy season the time for a decent prayer, or too grave a risk to
tell someone who might not know the “reason for the season” what it
means in wishing them a Merry Christmas—even when we clergy types
attempt to make it sound a little more profound employing instead the
words “Blessed Christmas”.
I do not know why the stories of Christmas never seem to include the
words of St. Paul in the writing to the beloved of Philippi:
“Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,
who, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God
as something to be exploited,
but emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
being born in human likeness.” (Philippians 2.5-15)
Somehow, one would think that these words say as much about Christmas as
Luke and Matthew, the readings that have found their way into the
lectionary. They are at the very least as much about Christmas as the
theological treatise of St. John. You know, the “In the beginning was
the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the
beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without
him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was
life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the
darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it” (John 1.1-5) words so
seemingly steeped in philosophical discourse about coexistence, a spoken
word, a living word, a creating word, a redeeming word, and light in
darkness.
Some have said that Christmas according to Matthew and Luke are for the
heart, while Christmas according to John is for the head. Yes, John's
story of Christmas might sound heady, even headier than the message of
Paul to his friends, the Philippians. Within these words, however, there
is much heart and soul. At least that is what I am finding this year.
I mean, while Matthew and Luke share a story that is earthy and common,
there is something just as grounded and mundane as the labor of
childbirth, the journey of the Magi, and the flight to Egypt to escape
the horrific, at least for what we think to be another thirty years, or
so. The “in your face” reality of human life within God's creation is
not domesticated by John. He, like Paul, puts it out there! They hold up
what we sometimes misunderstand as being a statement of faith, a
fundamental doctrine, a word of creed--the Incarnation, the Word
becoming flesh. I would suppose that it just does not get any more
graphic than such—God, being born in human likeness.
Did we hear that? Did we really, truly, deep down inside, head-heart-and
soul, hear that? I am referring to the word “born” in that statement of
God becoming flesh.
There are few things in life as sacred and lovely as childbirth. There
are few things in life as painful and “blood-fully” real as childbirth.
In birthing the awe and ecstasy meet with the belabored and grinding
toil of our humanity. After all, is that not what our forebears in God,
the ancient Hebrew people, pointed to as being the consequence of things
gone awry in this world...that birthing children will be painfully
toilsome? Elsewhere in the Bible Paul employs the same reality to all
the cosmos and humanity as a whole, speaking, as he writes, about “the
whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only
the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit,
groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies”
(Romans 8.22-23) One could claim that somehow in God the wondrous beauty
of all that is sacred touches and transforms all that is homely in the
sheer profanity of life as we know it. This transformation, I would dare
to say, is Christmas according to St. John.
There is the darkness, but into the darkness comes light...a light that
can never be extinguished. A light is flaming within us in such a way
that even when we try to render it dark, it does not happen...it will
not happen...now or throughout eternity...because Christ is light and in
Christmas Christ is born not only as a Child into this world, but as
life into our very lives. Yes, we sometimes do a good job of hiding
it...we might even do well at resisting it and pretending it is not
there--yet in the depths of the heart of hearts a flame is burning, a
light that is God...they very God who will never let us truly rest and
be free from all the toil and burden of life until we rest in the life
that is of Christ.
Now, just when John has grasped my attention to the point of being so
caught up in the possibilities that are gift given by this loving God,
the writer of this fourth Gospel brings it home...I mean, really home!
It could be easily read over and over and somehow missed, but the
skilled translator of the Scriptures, Eugene Peterson, in the version
entitled “The Message” says it so well. Taking the words of John we know
so well, “And the Word became flesh and lived among us”, Peterson drives
the point to where it not only belongs, but has surely come, rendering
these words into the simply language of today which reads, “The Word
became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood.” (John 1.14a).
Where is God when the drug deal is transacted on the corner down the
block? Where is God when the drunken driver loses control of the car and
takes the life of a child? Where is God when bullets pierce not only
flesh but the walls and lives of the innocent? Where is God when an
American soldier needs to chose to discharge a weapon or be dead? Where
is God when the bomb of a terrorist sneak attacks people in a place that
is supposed to be safe? Where is God when a newborn child is left in a
“dumpster” because the teenage mother sees no other way...the father of
the child strangely missing in it all? Where is God when that phone call
you worry about most comes in the middle of the night? Where is God when
a life, perhaps lived long and happy...perhaps barely lived at all but
that brief was touched by abuse and violence? In it all...there in the
midst of it...in all the neighborhoods of Norristown and Philadelphia
and Camden and New York and Chicago and Los Angeles and some small town
we've never heard of and in some far-off place we seldom think of, yet
alone learn life as it is lived there, God is in that neighborhood!
It sounds bizarre, I agree. It might even sound at times pithier than
powerfully true. And, yes, it brings us time and time to the age old
question, “if God is there why did it happen...why did it go down the
way it did?”.
In the core of that question, however, there is something to
know...something to hold onto...someone who holds on to us...someone who
wishes it was different. In the neighborhoods of life there is God, and
while God is often like Rachel weeping for her children “because they
are no more”...there in the neighbor God still chooses to be. And in the
neighborhood God is not only like a grieving mother, but is also like
the coin search woman who seeks and seeks until alas all is found. God
is in the neighborhood like the hen mother who protects her young
beneath her wings. God is in the neighborhood like the compassionate
father of the prodigal children. God is in the neighborhood like the
shepherd working never to lose even one little lamb.
In the neighborhood it is happening...Christmas, I mean, here and there
in each neighborhood God has taken up residence! And, while sometimes
that seems to be not such a big deal at all...it is the best thing about
this world, in this world, loving this world, caring for this world,
redeeming this world, changing this world.
While even here on this Christmas eve we may live as if we have pulled
down the blinds as if to place some distance between us and the real
world...after all, is that not the temptation of Christmas as it is known
by the culture we live in... the truth remains the same. God is not only
living and at work in the neighborhood, for as the words of John
continue in that first chapter: “we have seen his glory, the glory as of
a father's only son, full of grace and truth” (John 1.14b).
You know sometimes much depends on how we see things. Looking at the
neighborhoods through the television news or morning newspaper we only
get one perspective. There is something perverse about a society where
blood and gore sell! That is not the full story, nonetheless, for there
is glory to behold. Have we seen the glory? Have we seen in the
neighborhood a reflection of God's radiant holiness? Have we seen in the
neighborhoods of the world the shining of One to whom we sing “Shine
Jesus Shine!”. In our own lives and this church community and the people
who are the church is this place, have we not seen a glimpse of the
light that reveals the grace and truth of God?
In just a few moments we will be lighting candles, each of us light a
candle that we will be holding before us as the lights are turned off
and the singing of “Silent Night” begins. In that singing there will be
a holy light that reflects upon the face of the person next to you, the
person across the aisle from your, the person back in the corners and
the person here at front, and the person of yourself. And in that
moment, when the world seems to grow strangely silent...and times seems
to stand perfectly still, look to one another, look at one another, look
within yourself, look into the face of the Christ.
No, I am not suggesting that we are Christ or God or something more than
the human people we are. What I am saying is this: If God has left no
vacancy in the neighborhood...we can see the presence of Christ in each
other and in ourselves. As St. Paul says it so well, “Do all things
without murmuring and arguing, so that you may be blameless and
innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and
perverse generation, in which you shine like stars in the world.”
(Philippians 2.14-15)
So, see the star-like essence that is in each of us and let that light
cause you to “Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus” in that face...in the face of
the Child of Bethlehem we will see things in a new light!
In new light, we can become new people. I do not think it was by
accident or happenstance that in these two verses from Paul's letter
there is a connection made between “doing things without murmuring
and arguing” for such is like “the world turned crooked, bringing
forth a perverse people” where we are called to be “star light” of
love, faith, hope and peace. May our flaming candles this night
bring us to become like “stars” shining brightly where al murmuring
and arguing is tossed into its place, never to be revisited again!
I know that in that precious but small moment of time life and this
world will possibly not be fulfilled within God's purpose. However, it
could happen! Yet, even if it does not happen on that grand of a scale,
I know one thing that can happen...we may begin to see each other
differently...we may begin to see our neighborhood in new ways...we may
begin to see this world, in all its turmoil, as a place of
possibility...because God is with us and the Christ has come into that
of God's own creation. Not that discovering a new vision is all we need
to do...but it is a beginning...a starting place from which we can move
out into the world and claim the neighborhoods for the Christ who is
right there in them!
God is in the neighborhood. Christ is here. Let us behold the glory!
And, let us always remember that God will fulfill the promise that one
day, when all is said and done, the world as we know it will become the
Kin-Dom of our God!
To this Blessed and Holy Trinity, be honor and glory, now and forever.
Amen.
