Is there a better gloria than
Hark, the Herald Angels Sing? Nicole always does a great job with
the music, but I look forward to her tinkering during major feasts
days. Truthfully, I have a hard time hearing the song and not seeing
Snoopy dancing in my head. Those of you not laughing may not know me
well and might be surprised to hear me bring up the characters of
Peanuts on this Holy Night. When reading Luke's account of the birth
of Jesus and the announcement of the fact to the shepherds by the
angels, I cannot think of another modern sermon illustration that
captures the images of Luke any better. The cool kids and the “in
crowd” sends Charlie Brown after a tree because they want him out
of the way for rehearsal. Each, in their own way, wants to be the
focus of the Nativity Story they are getting ready to put on.
Charlie Brown, tired of the commercialism and wrong focus, keeps
reminding them to be faithful to the story. He becomes such a nag
that the kids tell him to pick out a tree as a prop for the play.
Needless to say, Charlie Brown picks out a tree that is rather sad.
When the kids place a single ornament upon its branches, the tree
bends over and its top touches the ground. The kids ridicule the
blockhead for choosing such a pathetic tree.
Linus steps in to save the day.
Linus proclaims that he sees the beauty in the tree that first
attracted Charlie Brown to it. He wraps his blanket around the tree
like a makeshift tree-skirt. He declares that it needs a bit of love
and care. The other kids hear him and decorate the tree, which
becomes more beautiful than seemed possible when the tree was bent
over with the single ornament. The blockhead becomes a hero, and the
group breaks out in Hark, the Herald Angels Sing while Snoopy does
his happy dance.
I suppose my mind is on such
things as the first service focused on the kids. Cohen, in
particular, was trying to contain his Snoopy dance. After church, he
was heading over to his grandmother's to open gifts, and he could
hardly stand it! I think his attitude, and those of the other kids,
accurately reflects our own attitudes. Many of us are just wanting
to get through the obligatory service so we can get to the food and
presents and football, aren't we? Many of us come to church this
night more out of a sense of tradition or a mom's or grandmother's
nagging than any real sense of joy and love, don't we? Most of us
probably share Cohen's desire that the sermon goes quickly so we can
get out of here.
In truth, it is a difficult thing
to prepare a sermon on Luke's passage. For most of the year, the
congregation and pastor share a rhythm. We progress through the
readings and the seasons and share in a corporate life of baptisms
and deaths and births. Once a year, though, we pause. We pause and
share with visitors and infrequent attenders the images painted in
the words of Luke and John. And it is the job of the pastor to make
the well known words seem vibrant and relevant. The truth is, we
pastors cannot. Only God can do that.
At the early service tonight, we
looked at bullies and how God works in the face of bullies. It was a
decent sermon for our youth. Cohen said it was great because it was
short. We looked for a bit at Augustus, the Emperor of Rome.
Augustus had a revenue problem. People, he thought, were not paying
their taxes. So he declared that all who lived within the empire
should go to their hometowns to be registered. This was his way of
ensuring that those who depended upon the empire for its livelihood
and protection would render the required support. Notice that Joseph
and his 9-month pregnant wife travel to Bethlehem to be registered.
Such was the power of the Emperor that no one dared defy his edict.
Our airlines will not let women on planes that are seven months
along. Doctors and midwives strongly discourage travel within six
weeks of a due date. Augustus, however, wants his subjects
registered, and he gets what he wants. Mary trudges along with her
betrothed, at times walking and at times probably riding that donkey.
Can you imagine how uncomfortable she felt? Ladies who have born
children, how afraid would you have had to be to consider undertaking
such a journey on foot during your ninth month?
Opposite Augustus and Quirinius,
his governor, are the shepherds. If there was a group of people more
outside the circle of power, it might have been shepherds. Shepherds
were the original “those people.” They slept during the day and
worked mostly at night, just like our modern laborers who work third
shifts across the country. Their job was tedious until it was not.
Nights might pass with no predators or thieves or illness and then,
boom!, the flock was in danger. To make it harder for shepherds to
blend in, their work caused them to be surrounded by a particular
odor which often offended the sensibilities of others. Those of you
who grew up working around livestock know that smell. Oh, and let's
not forget the rumors. Shepherds, you know, were probably the reason
Yahweh had included the prohibition against bestiality in the torah.
I mean, come on, who really knows what is going on out in the fields
at night. You laugh, but how many of us make certain assumptions
about the people who do certain jobs in our offices? How many of us
think we know people by what they do?
So, on the one hand, the narrative
of the Gospel is set against the rich and the powerful. As today,
the powerful issue commands, and those of a certain standing obey,
regardless of the cost. On the other hand, God is using the
marginalized to grow His kingdom. More specifically, God uses the
marginalized in this case to announce His kingdom come! It is an
interesting polemic to be sure. Augustus, and his representative
Quirinius, believe themselves to be the most powerful men. God is so
powerful, though, that he can use those forgotten or ignored by
society and those in power to accomplish His purposes. The message
is a warning to those who are on the inside and a note of
encouragement to those on the margins. There is another group
intended to hear this message tonight, though. Did you catch it? I
wonder how many times we have read the story and not really listened
to the words? “For unto you is born in the city of David, a
Savior.” Did not Mary just do the hard work? Was not this baby
born to her?
Many of you here tonight know that
I have had some cause to be in labor, delivery, and recovery rooms
around this country. Those of you who do not know me may be unaware
I have seven kids with my lovely wife, Karen. As a dutiful father, I
attended the birth of all my children. I see you older men looking a
bit squeamish, I get it, Believe me, I understand why you all may
have preferred to wait outside in another room and not hear the
screams that accompany the pangs of childbirth or the blood and other
fluids. I was so dutiful I even did my pre-birth class of hoos and
hees. Yes, like an idiot, I heed and hooed for Karen for precisely a
few minutes of one birth. I managed not to get light-headed and pass
out which, let me tell you, is no mean feat! Having been at the
birth of seven children, delivering one of those while a new nurse
panicked and a doctor could not be found, never in all those
childbirths did anyone suggest that a baby had been born to someone
else. Yet here are the angels telling us through the shepherds that
the Savior has been born to you, and to you, and to you, and to me.
We are also part of the intended audience of this Holy Night. The
Savior has been born to each one of us.
Let that thought roll around in
your head for a bit. For unto you is born the Savior. We talk in
the Church a great deal about the grandeur and majesty and otherness
of God, what theologians call the transcendence of God, and often
rightfully so. He is so far beyond us that we are often grasping at
shadows when we describe Him to others. Yet this night reminds us of
one of those glorious mysteries revealed to humankind. God
condescended to take on human flesh in the form of a little baby. He
belonged in a heavenly palace, and yet His throne became a manger.
The greatest of the world's aristocrats should have been their to pay
Him homage, and yet God selected shepherds to become the heralds of
His Gospel. Even more amazing, though, is the purpose behind this
uncomfortable labor, this rather ignominious birth, by human
standards. He came to save you and to save me! That little Babe
lying in a manger came for the purpose of walking that path that
leads to Calvary and the possibility of you and of me being
reconciled to God. That, my brothers and sisters, is the reason we
gather here and remember that night nearly 2000 years past. We
gather to remember and to reflect upon a miracle too amazing for
words. God became human to save each one of us.
When I was describing the scene
from Peanuts earlier, I noticed a number of longing faces. I think
everyone was familiar with the animated special that airs this time
of year. How many of us, though, feel a bit more like Charlie Brown
than Lucy or Schroeder or the girl with the naturally curly hair.
How many of us really feel like we are leaders or have a special,
valued talent, or are simply beautiful on the outside? I think part
of the timeless allure of the Peanuts narrative is that it speaks to
the Charlie Brown inside each one of us. Each of us wants to be able
to kick the ball, direct the play, get a kiss from a crush, believe
ourselves not to need a psychiatrist, or some other dream. Each of
us realizes that, in the eyes of so many in the world, but especially
in the eyes of our own selves, we are much like Charlie Brown. We
want desperately to be important, to be known, to be loved.
This night we are each reminded
that we are loved. Unto each of us this night in the city of David
was born our Savior. Best of all, our Savior is none other than the
God who created all things in the beginning. The absolutely
transcendent God came down from Heaven and dwelt among us, enfleshed
in human form. That, brothers and sisters, is why we gather. That,
brothers and sisters, is the beginning of the Good News of Jesus
Christ. That, brothers and sisters, is our message to those who are
not with us this night. To them, just as to us, was born the Savior.
And just as He charged the shepherds 2000 years ago, He charges you
with this wonderful knowledge. And now He bids you to glorify Him
and tell all you have heard and been told of this Babe, lying in a
manger!
Peace,
Brian