Everyone adds to the Christmas story, they always have. Each year when people gather in
churches around the world, or around family tables in homes of every size they weave new memories into the fabric
of what "Christmas" is all about. For some the recollections are warm and fuzzy, and they start rolling
with the first chill in the air after Thanksgiving. For others the mental snapshots are not as pleasant, and they
have to work very hard not to sink into some paralyzing depression as the day approaches.
We all however take a message from what happened on that night so long ago, when angels sang, and shepherds came,
and Mary smiled at a baby laid in a manger because there was no room in the inn. And woe to the person who tries
to tamper with our very personal investments in what happened there.
Just recently for example, a parishioner here told me how they literally cringe when they hear the newer translations
read from the pulpit proclaiming that Jesus was
"wrapped in bands of cloth," and not "swaddling clothes." "Bands of cloth" are for
mummies not babies, and even something as seemingly innocent as a change of words can pull annoyingly at the way
we remember "Christmas," and the message we have taken from it.
"Swaddling clothes" may be a good place to start this evening. If you've ever pondered that image you
may have wondered why in the world anyone would do that to a baby, and on a more practical level, after wrapping
those strips rather snuggly around that warm little body how would you ever go about changing him? It is a real
and ongoing practice in some places around the world and the profound impact of it is that it holds the baby tight.
"Swaddling" is very similar to what we called "bundling," and is actually done today with babies
who are born to drug addicted mothers, because the babies are so disorganized neurologically that they don't eat
well. By wrapping them tightly so that their arms and legs can't flail, they are better able to concentrate on
the nourishment in front of them.
Is there a message in that? Absolutely. It's always better to concentrate on what life is offering to us at the
moment instead of burning all of our energy flailing away to no purpose at something we cannot control. "Swaddling"
works well with irritable babies of any age. There are times when we all need to be held tight.
Then there were those shepherds who no one seemed to like very much. We often hear on Christmas Eve that part of
"the message" is that God intentionally chose the lowest of the social order to first proclaim the good
news of the birth of the Messiah. Shepherds were rough men, with rough hands, and rough ways. They were so ill-suited
for social gatherings due to the near permanent lanolin smell they had picked up from the sheep that permeated
both their skin and clothing, that they were not even allowed in the synagogues, and definitely not in the Temple.
They worked long hours for almost no pay, despite the fact that their services were greatly needed by the entire
community, regardless of its size. No one started out to be a shepherd, but by either hard luck or even harder
living, shepherds they had become.
Some time ago I was doing pre-marital counseling with a young couple that were going to be living Mississippi.
They had come back here because this is where the bride to be was from, but their home was already established
in the South. They had been warmly welcomed by a local church there, and since it was another United Methodist
Church, I asked if they had gotten to know the pastor. They said that the only one they had met was "the minister
to outcasts." As farsighted as that might sound, I asked if maybe what they meant was "the minister of
outreach," and they said, oh yes, that's probably who she was.
As I think back on that first Christmas night so long ago, when the news was given to shepherds about the birth
of a child for whom there was no room in the inn, whose parents would soon be forced to flee for the very life
of their only son, the idea of a "minister to outcasts" sounds like something that should have been part
of the original plan, something perhaps we should all be doing. Definitely it was something that little boy grown
to manhood would spend his entire ministry teaching.
It too was very much a part of the original message.
And what of "Bethlehem" the "House of Bread"? By order of the current Israeli government, Bethlehem
is now under twenty-four hour curfew. People are allowed out of their homes only at intermittent and unannounced
times. The university and the churches are mostly dark. One Christian leader says that he has been assured that
there is an informal understanding that the churches will be allowed to open on Christmas day, but other Christian
leaders say that there is no such understanding. It is an occupied community, under siege, and hoping for a lasting
peace that doesn't seem to come. Was that too part of the original message?
Each piece of Christmas, packed away in the mind as carefully as those delicate ornaments we bring out at the start
of each seasonal remembrance, and hopefully passed on to the next generation to appreciate in their own way, is
unique to the individual who holds it at the moment. For Christmas belongs to the one who receives it now. It always
has, and that too is part of the message.
Fr. Andrew Greeley whose books some of you may have read, offered much the same insight in an article in Woman's
Day magazine several years ago:
It might be easy to run away to a monastery, away from the commercialization, the hectic hustle, the demanding
family responsibilities of Christmas-time. Then we would have a holy Christmas. But we would forget the lesson
of the Incarnation, of the enfleshing of God - the lesson that we who are followers of Jesus do not run from the
secular; rather we try to transform it. It is our mission to make holy the secular aspects of Christmas just as
the early Christians baptized the Christmas tree. And we do this by being holy people - kind, patient, generous,
loving, laughing people - no matter how maddening is the Christmas rush. (Woman's Day, December 22, 1981.)
When Apollo 8, the first manned mission to the Moon, entered lunar orbit on Christmas Eve, December 24, 1968. Frank
Borman, Commander of that mission, offered what has become known as The Astronaut's Prayer. It is a prayer which
says, "Yes, I will be part of the story." It is a prayer for transformation:
Give us, O God, the vision which can see Your love in the world in spite of human failure. Give us the faith to
trust Your goodness in spite of our ignorance and weakness.
Give us the knowledge that we may continue to pray with understanding hearts.
And show us what each one of us can do to set forward the coming of the day of universal peace.
Luke tells us that when Mary heard what the shepherds had seen, the wonders they shared of the angels' song, she
"treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart." Like Russian nesting dolls, where inside
each doll is another waiting to be revealed, as we continue to "treasure and ponder" the good news we
too discover new gifts of mercy, forgiveness, reconciliation, redemption, hope, peace, joy and love that have been
a part of the gift of Jesus from the very beginning.
And "The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been revealed
to them." They took with them a powerful message that ultimately transformed their lives. Because they did,
"the kingdoms of this world have become the Kingdom of our God. What message will you take from Christmas
this year?
Will you join with us now in The Christmas Creed.
|