The season of waiting is ending, and the moment is at
hand. Over the four Sundays in Advent we
lit candles signifying Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love, and the light from these
candles has guided our path to the manger.
And now, the moment is at hand. A Hallmark moment it’s not. An exhausted, sweating couple, the wife very
pregnant and possibly going into contractions, arrives in Bethlehem according
to Caesar’s order, having traveled some 90 miles, a trip that could have taken
from four days to as long as a week, depending on how much distance Mary could
manage each day in her condition. And
when the arrive at Bethlehem, we’re told, there’s “no room in the inn”. Not that the inns of the time were anything
wonderful. And actually, since Bethlehem was Joseph’s
ancestral home, he may well have had extended family there. Bible scholars tell us that the Greek word
used by Luke, kataluma, is traditionally translated as “inn”, but it
really meant “guest room”. In fact, it’s the same Greek word used much
later for the guest room in the home where Jesus ate his last Passover with the
disciples. A different word was used for
public inns, pandocheion – the Greek words mean “to welcome all”. Pandocheion was the word used by Luke
for the place where the Good Samaritan took the man attacked by robbers on the
Jericho road. The comforts of even a
modern Motel 6 would have been unheard of in that time. While they did provide
food, some basic shelter, and a place to keep one’s animals, pandocheions
or inns had a terrible reputation, where not even your animals were necessarily
safe from attack. The Jewish culture of
the day placed a high value on hospitality, so scholars tell us that Joseph
likely stayed with extended family in Bethlehem. But, since other members of Joseph’s extended
family were likely in town for the same reason Joseph was, any guest rooms even
among Joseph’s extended family were full – there was no room in the kataluma,
the guest room - and so Mary gave birth in the back area of the home, using
the feeding trough as a make-shift cradle, hoping the donkey wouldn’t start
nibbling away at Baby Jesus’ ears.
So while the circumstances of Jesus’ birth may not be as
stark as our traditional images tell us, they were still pretty basic. Certainly the timing could not have been more
inconvenient – to a young, poor couple waiting to be married, at a time when
the family had to travel in obedience to royal decree. In fact, Mary and Joseph were inconveniently
caught between two timetables – that of the emperor – who wanted his subjects
counted and taxed – and that of biology, and ultimately of God.
That feeling of being caught between two timetables – that
of the world and that of God – is our shared experience of Christ’s
disciples. We’ve even experienced it in
the past month – while the Christmas of commerce has been going on since at
least Black Friday and likely before, in the church we’ve kept Advent, the
season of waiting and preparation. For
us, Christmas begins tomorrow, and will continue for twelve days until
Epiphany. At the same time, our church
year started on the first Sunday in Advent, which fell this year on December 1,
while the new year of our calendar begins a month later. And while even commerce honors the time as a
season of giving – so long as it benefits their sales – it isn’t long until the
agenda switches back to getting, acquiring – while for the community of faith,
giving is not for a day, but is a way of life. This
feeling of disconnect between the world’s agenda and God’s agenda is a sign
that the Spirit is working in us and that our faith is alive; in fact, as
people of faith, if we don’t feel at least some disconnect, some sense of being
pulled in more than one direction, perhaps we’ve grown too comfortable with the
ways of the world.
Only Matthew’s and Luke’s gospels tell us about the
circumstances of Jesus’ birth. Mark’s
gospel begins with a brief title and goes right into the story of John the
Baptist, while John’s gospel looks on the birth of Jesus from a cosmic perspective. But even from that cosmic perspective, John’s
gospel gives us a sense of the disruption caused by Jesus’ coming:
“He was in the world, and the world came into being
through him; yet the world did not know him.”
At the same time, John’s gospel tells us, “The Word
became flesh, and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a
father’s only son, full of grace and truth.”
We need the Word to become flesh, because we are flesh. It’s not enough just to hear or to read. We need to see with our own eyes.
Matthew’s and Luke’s gospels tell us of those who came to
see the Babe, each on their own timetable and with their own expectations. Luke’s gospel tell us of the shepherds, who
heard the angels’ message, saw the Babe, and returned, glorifying and praising
God. Matthew’s gospel tells us of the Wise Men, who came bringing gifts – and
they may have arrived as much as a year or two after the birth. And then there was Herod, for whom the Babe
inspired neither praise nor gift-giving, but thoughts of murder.
In 2015 I went with a group sponsored by UCC/Disciples of
Christ Global Ministries to the Holy Land. Two different Christian denominations sharing
one global outreach. I saw the Church of
the Nativity in Bethlehem, which was built over what tradition says is the site
of Jesus’ birth. I was hardly alone;
there were many there, some taking photos, some kneeling and kissing the metal
plate on the ground where the manger is said to have rested. It was a rare privilege to travel there, to
walk where Jesus walked and see the sites of Jesus’ childhood and
ministry. However, when I went to the
Church of the Nativity, while there was a metal plate on the floor, there was
no manger there, and no baby.
The bad news is, I went all the way to the Holy Land, and I
didn’t see the Baby Jesus. The good news
is, I don’t have to travel all the way to the Holy Land or to any other land for
that matter to meet Jesus. Neither do
you. At Christmas, we celebrate Christ’s
first coming, and we look to Jesus’ second coming at the end of time. However, during the time in between, Jesus is
still with us. Jesus taught that
wherever two or three are gathered in His name, he will be in their midst. Jesus also taught that whatsoever we do unto
the least of his sisters and brothers, we do unto him. So Christ is present in our neighbor,
especially in what Mother Teresa called the “distressing disguise of the poor”,
and the welcome we give them is the welcome we give Him. Indeed, tonight, right here in Philadelphia, there
are any number of Marys and Josephs, any number of Marias y Joses, any number
of those created in God’s image, any number of those for whom Christ died, seeking
food and shelter. Other Marias y Joses
are at our borders, seeking refuge from some modern incarnation of King Herod. To quote Trappist monk and mystic Thomas
Merton:
“Into this world, this demented inn, in which there is
absolutely no room for him at all, Christ comes uninvited. But because he
cannot be at home in it, because he is out of place in it, and yet he must be
in it, his place is with those others for whom there is no room. His place is
with those who do not belong, who are rejected by power because they are regarded
as weak, those who are discredited, who are denied the status of persons,
tortured, exterminated. With those for whom there is no room, Christ is present
in this world. He is mysteriously present in those for whom there seems to be
nothing but the world at its worst.”
And not only tonight:
one of the challenges of Christmas is that many people of goodwill want
to volunteer at shelters and soup kitchens and food cupboards around
Thanksgiving and Christmas, so there so many volunteers that they’re bumping
into one another - but on February 16 –
just to pick a random winter day – or on August 5 – just to pick a random
summer day - they’re nowhere to be
found, and the faithful few bear the strain of hospitality for many. But if you would meet Jesus in our day, that
is where to go.
I’ll close with these words from African American theologian
Howard Thurman:
When the song of the angels is stilled,when the star in the sky is gone,
when the kings and princes are home,
when the shepherds are back with their flocks,
the work of Christmas begins:
to find the lost,
to heal the broken,
to feed the hungry,
to release the prisoner,
to rebuild the nations,
to bring peace among the people,
to make music in the heart.
May Christ be in our hearts, and may Christ be in our midst,
and may we meet Christ in our neighbors. A blessed Christmas to all, and
blessings for the New Year. Amen.
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