A Sermon for Christmas Eve 2023 - "In the Mess"

I’ve been a pastor for 20 years, and over all of those years, Christmas Eve services have been and remain some of my favorite worship experiences. Sanctuaries tend to be full, people tend to dress their best (in my case, that only brings so much improvement, but you all look great tonight), and of course, there’s the Christmas hymns that mean the most on this night. 

Sometime during my first few years as a pastor, I came across the option to include a proclamation of the nativity of our Lord Jesus Christ, and I started inserting it at the end of “Silent Night” for those services. I thought about asking Amy if we could do that here at First this year (because when you’re the bishop you can ask for those kind of favors), but when I read through the text this year, I got stuck in one place. See if you get stuck, too. 

The Proclamation of the Nativity of our Lord Jesus Christ 

The Twenty-fifth Day of December, 

when ages beyond number had run their course from the creation of the world, 

when God in the beginning created heaven and earth, and formed humanity in God’s own likeness; 

when century upon century had passed since the Almighty set a bow in the clouds after the Great Flood as a sign of covenant and peace; 

in the twenty-first century since Abraham and Sara, our parents in faith, came out of Ur of the Chaldees; 

in the thirteenth century since the People of Israel were led by Moses in the Exodus from Egypt;
around the thousandth year since David was anointed King;

in the sixty-fifth week of the prophecy of Daniel; 

in the one hundred and ninety-fourth Olympiad; 

in the seven hundred and fifty-second year since the foundation of the City of Rome; 

in the forty-second year of the reign of Caesar Octavian Augustus, the whole world being at peace, 

JESUS CHRIST, eternal God and Son of the eternal Father, 

desiring to consecrate the world by his most loving presence, was conceived by the Holy Spirit, 

and when nine months had passed since his conception, 

was born of the Virgin Mary in Bethlehem of Judah, and was made human. 

This is the Nativity of Our Lord Jesus Christ according to the flesh.

It’s beautiful, right? Poetic? Sounds a lot like scripture itself? So - where do you think I got stuck? Some of you probably got stuck here, too:  “The whole world being at peace.” Tonight, war continues to rage in Ukraine, Sudan, Israel/Palestine, and other places. Closer to home, our political leaders squabble and accomplish next to nothing of substance while an endless cycle of violence, blame, and arguments repeats, over and over. I’m 49 years old and I don’t think I’ve ever been more anxious about the state of things in our church, our communities, and our world. We are definitely not a world at peace. 

Line all of that up against this proclamation of the birth of Christ, and what appear to be the cultural expectations of the Christmas holiday, and things get anxious. We strive to give the perfect gift, to enjoy the perfect Christmas meal. Christmas carols started on the radio the day after Halloween in some places, and if I’m honest they sort of sound like a nightmare after two months of solid airplay over and over again, particularly in a year like this year when the weather has been unseasonably warm and not the least bit frightful. It would be incredibly easy to lose hope with so much cognitive dissonance and so many failed expectations. Yet, even in this present anxiety, tonight we gather to celebrate a light that continues to shine. 

Your theme here at First this Advent has been “The Light of Grace,” celebrating the 250th anniversary of the hymn “Amazing Grace.” This is one of our most beloved hymns, for many reasons, but one thing you’ve not discussed much is the origin of the hymn itself. Here’s the story: John Newton was a captain of a slaving ship who got caught in a storm at sea, and after some of his crew were washed over the side, he prayed to God for salvation. After steering the ship through the storm all night, morning found Newton and the rest of his crew safe and saved (to say nothing of the "cargo" of course). It wasn' the last time Newton captained a slaving ship, but it did mark a moment of spiritual conversion for Newton, and in time he became an ardent abolitionist. The story doesn’t excuse who he was or what he did for a living, however. John Newton was a person who had made a living from the capture, transportation, and sale of God‘s children. This is not the story of a simple prayer recited out loud in a revival meeting by a person, feeling guilty about cheating on a test or getting caught speeding. Newton was exactly what the first verse says he was: a wretch. ’Twas grace that redeemed Newton because that’s how grace works. Grace doesn’t apply to the deserving or the perfect. Grace is for those who truly need it. Grace shines best when it shines into the what we most want to hide from the world. 

Just this past Wednesday night, many of us gathered in the mission center for a celebration that included a living nativity, and a prayer service here in the sanctuary. It was lovely. There was something of a petting zoo here as well - a camel as well as some sheep, goats, and other animals - and I couldn’t help noticing that they stayed outside. If we really wanted a living nativity that would re-create what it was like when God came to us in the flesh, we would’ve brought the camel and the sheep and the goats and the llamas and the pigs right into the mission center with us. Now, I’m not actually suggesting we do that, mostly because I’m pretty sure your deacon for faith formation (My wife Kristin) would require me to be the one who shovels out the mess afterwards. But I mention it because there are parts of that story of Jesus’ birth that we don’t acknowledge, because they’re messy. They’re inconvenient. To put it bluntly, they smell. We often tell a sanitized version of the story of Jesus’ birth, and the picture it presents is one of perfection: beatific Holy Child Jesus in the manger (which is filled with sweet, clean hay), beaming Mary resting in peace in beautiful, simple clothing which shows no sign of having just delivered her first child, Joesph silently…being there, stars in the sky, humble shepherds coming to worship (and not losing a one of the sheep entrusted to their care in doing so). There is an entire industry centered around this ideal, this perfection of Christmas peace. The unhealthy danger of this is the anxiety it amplifies in us when things are not perfect in our own Christmas celebrations. What do we do when the gifts are a mess, or when there aren’t any gifts at all because it’s been a hard year? What do we do when family is as much a burden as a blessing, or when we’d give anything for that burden of family because we’re alone? When it comes to Christmas, all too often we are most definitely not a world at peace. 

God did not wait until the world was properly, perfectly prepared to become incarnate. God entered the world as it was, into all the mess, in a scene that in its actual happening would not be the sort of thing that fits ever so beautifully onto a Christmas card. If the world was at peace on that night, 2000 years ago in Bethlehem, just a short walk from Jerusalem, it was a peace that had been imposed on the population by Rome, an occupying power from a foreign land. Jesus was born in Bethlehem because the political power of his time told his parents they needed to go to a different city so they could be taxed. Joseph and Mary were refugees in their own homeland; roaming in search of shelter while the world around them was gripped by anxiety and violence. 

This was the world into which Jesus was born on that long ago night in Bethlehem.  

In a stable that smelled of sheep and goats, of hay and dung. 

In the mess. 

Among the wretches. 

In a world that was definitely not at peace. 

Years from now, when I think about Christmas 2023, the image that will live seared into my brain will be this, the nativity at the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Bethlehem.

  

Yes, this is a statement about the current state of things in Israel/Palestine. 

Yes, that is meant to be rubble of buildings destroyed by rockets and bombs fired by both sides of this horrible conflict. 

Yes, that is the baby Jesus there in the midst of the rubble. 

In the mess. 

Among the wrenches. 

Born into a world that is most definitely not at peace. 

In a minute we’re going to sing “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” It’s one of my most beloved Christmas hymns because of one line: “…the hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.” Christmas has never been about a perfect Christmas peace. 

Jesus means to meet us in the rubble. 

In the mess. 

In our wretched anxiety. 

 

Jesus knows we live in a world that is not at peace, and to be honest, rarely has been. Jesus meets us there because that’s how you make this wretched world holy: you start in the rubble. In the mess. You shine the light of grace where it is most needed, and the redemption of the world begins. 

Christmas is wherever Jesus meets us, and in meeting Jesus, we meet peace, wherever he finds us. Merry Christmas, friends. May all your hopes and fears be met in Jesus, tonight and always. Amen.