Luke 2:1-20
It is nice to see so
many faces of people returning home for the holidays. Christmas is a time when we often do our best
to visit with people we aren’t able to be with throughout the year, sometimes
returning to our childhood home.
But while we are
traveling home, Mary and Joseph are traveling away, as ordinary people, far
from the home where they are comfortable, into the dark wilderness of the
countryside.
The Christmas story
through the eyes of Luke, our Gospel writer, is a contrast between what is
ordinary or secretly extraordinary. Our
story, as told by Luke, shows a great many ways that Joseph, and Mary, and this
birth were merely ‘ordinary’. And yet, at
each turn, it is augmented by the extraordinary – in secret.
It begins before our
reading today with a priest, Zechariah, receiving a terrifying message from an
angel of an unlikely birth – not of Jesus, but of John the Baptist by his aging
wife Elizabeth. This is nothing short of
a miracle, seeing as Elizabeth had been childless for quite some time. But Zechariah was struck speechless by the
encounter and could tell no one. The
extraordinary is concealed.
Months later, when
Zechariah’s wife is in her 6th month of pregnancy, the Angel Gabriel
comes to the faithful maiden named Mary, announcing a yet more remarkable
birth. This child will be the Son of the
Most High, and will create a kingdom that will reign forever. He will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty
God, Everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace. But Mary tells only Elizabeth, and the world
is none the wiser. These ordinary, faithful women know that life will be
radically changed, but they are in the minority. For now.
A decree is issued for all to be
counted. Bethlehem is the birthplace of
King David. Joseph, being of the line of David, must return to that city to be
counted. By being born in this famous city, Jesus acquires ‘messianic
credentials’. But this ordinary couple
is pushed to the margins, relegated to the mercy of Innkeepers for shelter. Extraordinary credentials, ordinary activity.
In a world ruled by
the towering military power of Rome, the Empire of Caesar Augustine and the extraordinary
wealth created by taxes and colonization, Luke shows us that despite that, God
comes to dwell with a humble, unimportant couple who are still at the whim of
Caesar. Even though God will be with them, even though they are in a precarious
situation, they must still travel to be counted in the Census. Just like ordinary citizens. Even though heavy with child, Mary is
afforded no luxury. Just like ordinary
immigrants. Even though Mary knows this child will be different, she does
everything necessary to birth a healthy child.
Just like ordinary mothers.
Mary and Joseph have
everything auspicious in their favor.
They have received messages from God, have experienced and impossible
pregnancy, they are in a Royal city and having a virgin birth. But rather than
be heralded in a Temple or a Palace or a House made of Cedar, they are out in
the hinterlands in a stable. They are
housed with animals, in the everyday space of devoted people of lowly status like
shepherds in the field.
God chooses to dwell in the ordinary,
in human form, not as a king or a child to royalty, but as an infant born to a
vulnerable couple, out of wedlock, in the animal’s quarters. Not in the temple
walls or that of a palace, but in hay within mud walls of a stable.
And then, a Star.
For a year now, in scripture lesson after
scripture lesson, for sermon after sermon your pastor keeps reminding you of
the importance of the Temple to the Jews in Jesus’ time. The Temple was where
God resided, where God was honored, where God was experienced. Isn’t it odd, then, that God comes to dwell
among humanity far, far from the Temple?
Isn’t it conspicuous that God leaves the walls of God’s house to dwell
within something else? Rather than adhere to the human idea of where God lives,
the Divine shows up in the fields. Rather than reveal the extraordinary, God
comes to surprise us with the ordinary miracle of the fate of this child.
After all, it is the shepherd engaged in the
very ordinary work of “watching over their flocks by night” that the extraordinary
message is given. It is to us – ordinary
people – that a son is born. He is
finally born, on this very evening, to we who have been waiting for the Messiah
to come and change the world.
He is just a baby, susceptible to the whims of
the world, to a government census, to an overcrowded city, to a cold night, and
to doting parents. The only clue to the
majesty of this child is a star, a few bewildered visitors, and angels singing
into the dark and quiet, ordinary night – about the extraordinary world to
come. Making clear, once and for all,
that no one is inconspicuous in the eyes of
God.
God
does not adhere to our human expectations of the extraordinary. While we might
be looking for trumpets, or a military brigade, or fireworks,
God shows up with a newborn’s cry in the dark night. But with that quite ordinary cry, we can
recognize that God, Emanuel, is truly here to dwell among us. God’s commitment to enter
into humanity, to see through our eyes and feel through our skin and see
humanity as no one else would is extraordinary in its very ordinary-ness.
God
augments the ordinary to make everyday happenings of the life of a humble
couple extraordinary. With God, we can
see the extraordinary in our everyday lives, in the small miracles and the
unexpected revelations. And truly, that
is the surprise of Christmas. May God
help you see the extraordinary this Christmas, too.
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