HIS STORY - OUR STORY

Christmas Homily 2010

Some of my favorite pieces of music are the overtures from Broadway musicals. In an overture, the composer will select some of the more memorable songs in the show, weave them together, and give the audience a preview of what is to come. For example, the overture to South Pacific includes “Some Enchanted Evening”, “Bali Hai”, “Gonna Wash that Man Right Out of My Hair” and “There is Nothing Like a Dame”. Once you know the songs, hearing the overture brings the entire show to light. Perhaps that is why I like overtures. When I hear them, in my mind’s eye I can picture and relish once again some of my favorite memories of the Broadway shows I have seen.

Luke’s presentation of the birth of Jesus at the beginning of the Gospel is like the overture of a Broadway musical. Hearing the story of Jesus’ birth unfold previews for us the major themes that Luke will develop in the rest of his Gospel.

For example, Luke’s Gospel is often called the Gospel of Prayer. Several times throughout his ministry, as his mission becomes clearer, Jesus goes off by himself to pray to his heavenly Father. In his story of the birth of Jesus, Luke presents us with the prayers of Zechariah, Mary and Simeon as they begin to understand the role they are playing as God’s plan unfolds in the events they are witnessing.

The backdrop for Luke’s story is the census ordered by Caesar Augustus. In response to the Emperor’s edict, Joseph and Mary make their way to Bethlehem where their names are recorded in the city of Joseph’s ancestor, King David. That census foreshadows the day when, during his public ministry Jesus shares with his disciples not earthly power, but spiritual authority and tells them emphatically: Rejoice because your names are written in heaven.

When he instructs his followers about the nature of discipleship on the way to Jerusalem, Jesus tells them: Foxes have lairs and the birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head. In a detail that can only be called prophetic, Luke tells us that Mary gave birth to her first born son and wrapped him in swaddling clothes because there was no room for them in the place where travelers lodged.

Throughout his ministry Jesus shows a particular love and concern for the lowly, the poor and the outcast. One day, with surprising spontaneity in the middle of his teaching, Jesus breaks into prayer: I give you praise, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned, you have revealed them to the childlike. In our Christmas Gospel, the lowly shepherds, keeping watch over their flock by turn throughout the night, are the childlike who receive the revelation that is good news for all the people: Today in the city of David a savior has been born for you who is Messiah and Lord.

After the shepherds go to Bethlehem to see this thing that has taken place they returned to their fields glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen.  When Jesus dies on the cross Luke tells us that the centurion, himself an outsider, who witnessed what had happened on Calvary also glorified God.

Luke’s account of the birth of Jesus is an overture to the story that will unfold throughout the ministry of Jesus. And it does not end there. What began in Bethlehem of Judea, what was brought to fruition in the life, death and resurrection of the child born to Mary, reaches beyond the confines of gospel time and place and continues to be revealed throughout history in the lives of Jesus’ followers. The baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger is the Jesus who gave his life on the wood of the cross and who was raised up on the day of Easter. That same risen Jesus is present in every time and place as the Lord of all history as his gospel of peace and his mysterious plan of salvation continue to unfold in our lives, as surely as it did in the lives of Mary, and Joseph and the shepherds on that cold winter night in the Judean hill country.

In Act two of The Tempest, Shakespeare says: What is past is prologue. Those words describe Luke’s purpose in remembering the events associated with the birth of Jesus. The events surrounding his birth introduce and parallel the events that will take place in Jesus’ public life and ministry and they prefigure and give meaning to the events of our lives, here today.

Luke’s account of the birth of Jesus is not some quaint bit of history we drag out every Christmas so that we can ooh and aah over the Christ Child. We read the story of the birth of Jesus because it prepares us for his public life and ministry. And we read it because it speaks to our lives as well; it is our story, too.

We can identify with the first census taken when Quirinius was governor of Syria. In this age of advanced technology, as wonderful as it can be, how easily our lives are defined as a series of numbers: social security number, pin number, insurance card number, prescription number, cell phone number, student ID number and on and on the list goes. But on this night we rejoice because our God knows not our number, he knows our name as surely as Joseph knew the name of his child, Jesus, who would save his people from their sins. Our God speaks our names this night with a reverence reserved for his beloved that we might know the dignity that is ours as children of our heavenly Father.

How often do we find there is no room for us in the inns of our world? Your position has been terminated, clear your desk. You’re not what I was looking for, can we just be friends? You know you just can’t invite everybody to every party. I’m sorry but you lack experience. I’m sorry but you’re overqualified. But on this night we rejoice because there is always room for us in the heart of Jesus. There is always room for us at the table of the Eucharist. And when our days on earth come to an end, there is room for us in a mansion with our name on it as Jesus welcomes us to our heavenly home, his eternal kingdom of peace.

Perhaps it is our identity with the shepherds that is most poignant tonight. It is not that we mind being humble, lowly. What is troubling is that in a world that celebrates only the best, the brightest, the fastest, the wealthiest, we are made to feel not humble, but small, insignificant. We pale in comparison to those who are celebrated as the shining lights of our society. The world no longer seems to value those qualities for which we strive. Honesty, integrity, long suffering, chastity, fair play, vows that promise until death do us part, do not even deserve an honorable mention in the accolades of modern life. We are made to feel, like the shepherds in the gospel story, alone on the edge of town, while those who win at all cost capture headlines of praise and the brass ring of success. But on this night we rejoice, because the murmurings of the babe in the manger will give way to his sermon on the mountainside. And the words of that sermon will reassure us that the meek will inherit the earth, that those who mourn will be comforted, and that the pure of heart will see God.

Tonight, if we hear the heartwarming story of the birth of Jesus simply as an event that happened long ago, we might go home feeling spiritually warm and fuzzy. But tomorrow, and the day after that, when the mortgage is due and the pain won’t stop; when forgiveness is withheld and promises are broken; when the phone doesn’t ring and the drinking starts all over again, we will be left to wonder what it all means: this infant wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger; this Joseph, who goes from Nazareth in Galilee to David’s city to register with Mary, his espoused wife who is with child; these shepherds who keep might watch by turn over their flock on a remote hillside far from the center of life; these angels, a multitude of heavenly hosts who sing the  praises of a God in his highest heaven. And the wonder of what it all means will continue as long as we see the events of this night only as history.

The story we hear tonight is not only Jesus’ story; it is our story as well. We are Joseph registering in the census when we give to Caesar what is Caesar’s; but we are most Joseph when we say yes to the things of God, and take Mary into our homes in whatever mysterious form she appears, so that we, above all else, first give to God what is God’s. We are Mary, who spars with angel Gabriel and says “How can this be” when our lives are filled with disappointment and contradiction. But we are most Mary when we trust that God’s word to us will be fulfilled and we whisper: Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word. We are shepherds, alone and cold and very much afraid when life overwhelms us. But we are most shepherds when we, too, take to heart the words of the angel and come to believe that we have nothing to fear for our God shares with us only good news, tidings of great joy for all people of every time and place.

Because it is our story we hear this night, we take to heart the words of Paul to Titus. We seek to reject godless ways, because we know that through our baptism, our God dwells within us and it is his path we long to follow. We seek to reject worldly desires because the words of Saint Augustine remind us over and over again: our hearts are restless until they rest in God. We seek to live temperately, devoutly, and justly in this age because temperance and devotion and justice are the key to opening the gates of the kingdom, when the age which is to come is brought to fruition and our great God and Savior Jesus Christ appears to deliver us from all lawlessness, and to form us into a people uniquely his own.

Some days, nothing brings a smile to my face more readily than the opening bars of the overture of a Broadway musical I love. But this night, it is the opening bars of Luke’s gospel story, In those days, Caesar Augustus ordered a census of the whole world… that brings not a smile to my face but a gladness in my heart; a gladness that will last long after the story ends and the music fades. Because this night, as Jesus story, our story, is told, we who have walked in darkness and the land of gloom have seen a great light. He who is Wonder-Counselor, God-hero, Father-Forever, Prince of Peace has brought us great rejoicing. The yoke that has burdened us and the rod of our taskmasters have been broken. For a child is born to us, a son is given us. His dominion is vast and forever peaceful. The zeal of the Lord of hosts has done this.