The
Rev. Joseph Peters-Mathews
St.
Joseph-St. John Episcopal Church, Lakewood
December
24, 2017
Christmas
Eve
Luke 2.1-14
The grace of our Savior Jesus Christ,
the
love of God,
and
the fellowship of the Holy Spirit
be always with you.
[And
also with you.]
Let us pray
“Nature reordered to match God's intent,
nations obeying the call
to repent,
all of creation
completely restored,
filled with the
knowledge and love of the Lord.
“Little child whose bed is straw,
take new lodgings in our
hearts.
Bring the dream Isaiah
saw:
knowledge, wisdom,
worship, awe.”[1]
Merry Christmas!
Tonight Christmas is in full force.
We’re even getting a white Christmas,
it looks
like.
We’ve bid the faithful
come and adore Jesus the
Christ Child.
We’ve joined angels in singing Gloria in excelsis deo.
We’ve heard the familiar,
every-Christmas-Eve
story
of
Mary and Joseph going to Bethlehem,
Mary
giving birth to Jesus her first born
wrapping
in bands of cloth — swaddling clothes —
and
laying him in a manger.
It’s Christmas! Finally!
This year we’re even cut short a week of Advent,
those
four Sundays leading up to Christmas,
and
yet this year has been a. year.
Let’s just remember some of it:
Charlottesville.
Las
Vegas.
The
fire in London.
Hurricanes
Harvey, Irma, and Maria.
California
wildfires and South American earthquakes.
In the midst of it all we hear again,
“Do not be afraid; for see—
I am bringing you good news of great joy
for all the people: to you is born this
day
in the city of David a Savior,
who is the Messiah, the Lord.”
Throughout Advent,
St.
Joseph-St. John has been
singing a paraphrase of the song Mary
sings
not
long after she finds out that she’s pregnant
with Jesus the Messiah, the savior of
humanity.
Throughout Advent,
I’ve
been preaching —
because Advent’s Biblical texts make it
clear —
that
coming to church isn’t just to feel good.
Worshiping Jesus the Christ
requires
engaging the outside world.
From Mary singing about the filling of the hungry
while
the rich are sent away empty
to
the angels bidding peace among all humanity
Jesus
changes the world.
The primary act of Christian worship
is
coming together to read from holy Scripture
and break bread.
Breaking bread and pouring wine,
knowing Jesus in our hands, in our
hearts,
incarnate
of Mary, incarnate in Bread
changes
the world.
Tonight, tomorrow,
this Feast of the Incarnation
we
celebrate that God changes the world
not
by dominating others
but
by coming in ultimate vulnerability:
born,
with all the associated dangers.
God becomes human
not
by possessing a grown man
but
by inhabiting a womb
and
nursing for early growth.
God becomes human
the
same way we do
in
the tenderness of a child,
screaming
like so many babies.
God becomes human
and
makes his first bed in a manger
redeeming
all of creation
by
becoming a part of it.
The prayer that I opened this homily with
are
a verse and subsequent refrain from the choral work
“The
Dream Isaiah Saw.”
Throughout Advent and into tonight
Isaiah
gives a vision of what the world can be like,
what
the world is like because God reigns
and
when God saves all of creation.
“You have multiplied the nation,
you have increased its joy;
they rejoice before you
as with joy at the harvest,
as people exult when dividing
plunder.
For the yoke of their burden,
and the bar across their shoulders,
the rod of their oppressor,
you have broken as on the day of
Midian.
For all the boots of the tramping warriors
and all the garments rolled in
blood
shall be burned as fuel for the
fire.
For a child has been born for us,
a son given to us.”
In a year of the Las Vegas shooting and Hurricane
Maria,
we
again remember that a child has been born
and
God has broken the rod of oppression in that birth.
While coming to church isn’t just to feel good,
it's
pretty comforting to know that God loves all of creation,
loves
each of us and all of us,
to
live as one of us,
to
be born as one of us,
to
live as one of us the entirety of life,
even
death.
When we find comfort in this place or at this table,
I
hope we’ll remember a prayer from the Episcopal tradition,
“Deliver us from the presumption of
coming to this Table
for solace only, and not for
strength;
for pardon only, and not for renewal.”
That as we eat this bread
and
drink this wine we pray:
Little child whose bed is straw,
take new lodgings in our
hearts.
May we help bring the dream Isaiah saw:
knowledge, wisdom,
worship, awe.
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