2008-12-21 - "Appearing Very Soon"

"Appearing Very Soon"
Christ's arrival confirms God's love for the world
Sermon Preached by
The Rev. Dr. Andrew Stirling
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Text: Luke 2:1-14

Les, as I knew him affectionately, was a good friend. We used to go out and have coffee and he gave me much advice after his many years in ministry. Now he was turning to me for help. “Andrew,” he said, “one of my parishes has a crisis. In a few hours time I am doing the children's moment and I have a great, big nativity scene but something is missing - Jesus! Would you happen to have a spare Baby Jesus that I could use in the manger?”

I said, “I am sorry, Les, all I have is a G.I. Joe action man from when I was a little boy, and he is up in the attic in a box somewhere. I don't think he would do, would he?”

He said, “No, I am sorry, that won't work. You see, this is a big nativity scene, and it is a big manger and I need a big Jesus.”

“I am sorry,” I said, “I do not have any spare Jesuses around. Why don't you call John, the Presbyterian minister? They are big on Jesus there. He might have a spare one.”

So Les said, “Thank you Brother Andrew, I will do my best.” He phoned John, only to find that John didn't have a spare Baby Jesus either.

I did my service and it went beautifully, I might add. My Baby Jesus was there in the manger all along. A few days later, Les called me and we arranged to meet for coffee. I asked, “How did you get along? Did you find a Baby Jesus?”

He said, “No, I didn't. Unfortunately, no Baby Jesus could be found.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

He said, “I invited each one of those children in the church to come forward, one-by-one and sit in the manger for a few seconds. It was the most powerful Christmas I have ever experienced.”

I have thought about that many times over the years. Was Les right to do that? Was he right to take a child and put him or her into a Christmas scene, to actually have the child sit where Christ should have been sitting? On reflection, I have concluded he was right, because the message of Christmas is that God the Son came as a child to sit where we should be: The Son of God, the Child of the Universe, actually came and was in that first manger. Nowhere do we see that more clearly than in the Gospel message in Luke, for this is one of the great stories of Christmas.

Luke writes this account to a man called Theophilus, and he does so with a purpose - to convey to this Roman the universality of the importance of the birth of Jesus of Nazareth. As an historian, he writes in an historical way. There have been many who have pointed to the fact that there is an error in this Christmas story - and there is. Quirinius is called the Governor at the time of Jesus' birth but, in fact, most historical documents suggest that Quirinius had probably been the governor before Jesus' birth, and certainly, about 10 or 13 years after Jesus' birth, but not right at that very moment.

Remember, Luke is depending on eye-witness information that has been handed to him and he simply wants to convey to Theophilus, years later that Jesus was born in a time and in a place. Theophilus may or may have not known whether Quirinius was the governor at that moment, but for the sake of the telling of the Gospel, it really didn't matter. What Luke wants to do is to show that the birth of the Christ Child came in a time and a place that could be identified in history. But he didn't just record history. The Gospel is not just a blow-by-blow account of everything that happened on that day, and to assume so is naive. No, Luke is writing to convey a deep theological message as well, that this Child who was born is universal in his power and scope. He has come for the entire world. Luke wanted Theophilus to read the Gospel to know that.

With this in mind, I want to look at that first story. I want to look at the fact that God decided to descend, to come and dwell among us in that time and in that place. Luke is trying to tell us not only that Christ came in that situation, in what is known as sitz im Leben, but also that he has come for all time and for all people. To grasp that, I want to look at where Christ is. I think that the best way to look at it is in the terms of three sanctuaries. A sanctuary is a sacred, holy place. The first sanctuary is the crib, the phatne, that very manger where Christ was born.

Years ago, I visited the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem. I went with great excitement, expecting something grand and magnificent. I had waited all my life to see where Jesus was born. I confess, initially, I was deeply disappointed. I mean, I went to a parking lot that was filled with buses. It looked more like Yorkdale Mall than the place where Jesus was born. There was this big church, the basilica that was built originally by Constantine in 326 A.D. and was later knocked down and re-built by Justinian in 530 A.D. I was disappointed. I don't know what I expected to see - probably something like this church. Instead, I saw a big church built over a cave. Yet, when I walked in, I was struck by something. The door that leads into the entrance is called the Door of Humility. It is a tiny door, made smaller by the Ottomans so that people couldn't wheel their carts in and do business in the church. There was a sense of it being a sacred, holy and humble place. You have to almost bow your head down in order to go in. I worried that I would fit at all, to be quite honest with you! Yet, here, bowing down, going through the small entrance, something profound is being said; there is humility, that there is simplicity, there is an ordinariness about it all that strikes you.

In the day and age, which is so complicated, so demanding, so time-consuming and worrisome, where we are bombarded by technology, information and bad news with stock market tickers going by our screens every few seconds, there is something about the simplicity of that nativity and that first crib that causes us to ponder. Should we not stop for a moment, lower our heads, have some humility and see the sanctuary in which Christ was born?

Tom Wright has argued that Luke's Gospel contains not only the account of the birth of Jesus in all its simplicity, again like Matthew in just a matter of a few verses, but also a sort of sad silence about it all. There is so much that is not said that it is humble. The former head of the Academy of Dramatic Arts in the United States had a lesson for all his students. It was this: Mean more than you say. As an actor, you might have the words to speak, you might tell the story, but you have to have the meaning of the story in you and the meaning is more than words.

In many ways, the account of the birth of Jesus has a meaning that is more than the words, even more than Luke's words. There is a powerful meaning here. Beyond the simplicity of the first crib and the sanctuary in which Christ first appeared, there is a powerful message that John put this way: “The Word has been made flesh.” Matthew put it this way: “Emmanuel,” God-with-us. The Apostle Paul put it this way: “He was born of a woman, born under the law.” In other words, this is not just the birth of a child; it is a profound statement of God's humility, God's self-giving, God's coming in that sad silence of the first manger. This Christmas, let us embrace that sanctuary. Why is it important that it was humble and simple? It was because it was only transitory. The birth of Jesus was never to be an end in itself. It was a means of God's unfolding kingdom and of God's unfolding message of salvation.

This brings me to a second sanctuary, and that is God's sanctuary in the world. In many ways, the birth of Jesus was just a preparation for something more. A minister that I know named Gary Baxter - and I have read some of his personal devotions - tells a story of how, during the Christmas period, he was frantically trying to write his sermons. I can tell you that trying to write a sermon around Christmas with all the other things going on requires a great deal of focus and dedication. Gary's little daughter came to him when he was in the middle of writing a sermon and said, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, I just want to talk to you.”

He said, “Oh, dear, go away! I am writing my sermon. I can't be bothered with you right now.”

She said, “Okay, Daddy. If I am bothering you then a little later on, I am going to give you a big hug.”

He said, “Fine! Off you go! Go, go, go! I have got to get into the Gospel of Luke! Off you go!”

So, she went a few metres down the hallway, did an immediate U-turn, came running back to him and gave him a chiropractic, bone-crushing, squeezing hug. He said, “Didn't you say you were going to do this later?”

She said, “Yes, Daddy! I want you to know what you can look forward to.”

Gary said, “This was my true Christmas!”

Gary was right. Christmas is the anticipation, the expectation that God is going to do more. In all the sermons during Advent, we've talked about the fact that there is still more for God to do. There is still light to be shed on God's words. The coming of God's Son, the incarnation, is a foretaste of what will arise.

Remember, Luke was very clever. When he wrote his Gospel, he was painting picture with words. It was a picture that told the story of those who were involved in the birth of Jesus and, like a great canvas, he included them in the story. He mentioned Quirinius and the emperor, Caesar Augustus, because he knew that Jesus' home was with the powerful. He mentioned the angels coming down to the shepherds to show that Jesus' home was from heaven. He mentioned the “Son of David” and “in David's City.” He quoted from Micah, Isaiah and Jeremiah, the great prophets, to show that Jesus was at home with Israel. He mentioned the shepherds' presence, even though the orthodox at the time thought the shepherds were dirty, filthy and beyond the law, to show that Jesus' home is with the lowly and the poor.

Luke was trying to paint a picture of a Jesus who has come for the whole world. It is ironic, I think, that the nativity and the church that was built around it, was built 300 years after the death of Jesus by none other than the emperor of Rome, Constantine himself!

While I am not suggesting that we celebrate Christus Victor - this isn't a symbol of triumphalism - it is nevertheless a powerful statement that the universality of Christ's birth, attested to by Luke, was realized symbolically 300 years later. The fact that we are here on a snowy day and have ploughed our way through in the City of Toronto in North America in 2008 is a symbol of the universality of this Babe of Bethlehem. Wouldn't it be wonderful if all those in power today for one moment would just stop and recognize the love, salvation, grace and peace of Jesus of Nazareth?

The sanctuary is in the world, but thirdly, a sanctuary is also with you. I think that the line, “There was no room for him in the inn,” is often over-played. The metaphor has worn thin over the years, but it is still true. It was a symbol of the rejection of the Son of God, a symbol that Jesus Christ continually asks for a place to live and to be. The question for us is: Is he here, living with us?

The Church of the Nativity contains a wonderful symbol: The baptismal font. It is huge and engraved with a Latin phrase is translated as follows: “For remembrance, rest and remission of sins of those whose name the Lord knows.” There is a sense even in that baptism in the Church of the Nativity that belonging to the church means Christ knows who we are. This Babe of Bethlehem, this Child of the Universe, the Son of God incarnate, knows who we are. The question arises: Do we know who He is?

It is one thing to say “Christ came, Christ lived and Christ died.” One could write a history of this. Many people write dispassionate histories of the life of Jesus, but the life of Jesus was never a dispassionate affair! It was a passionate statement, a passionate moment, when the love of God broke into the world. It was never meant to be handled as some objective fact alongside other facts, but to be the universal made personal.

A couple of days ago, at the bottom of the hill on my street, there was a car accident. Two people had run into each other in the snow storm and they were actually out of their cars, remonstrating with one another as I drove by. As there were no other cars around at that moment, I stopped, wound down my window and asked, “Is there anything I can do to help you?” When I saw the gestures they were making to each other, I realized this wasn't something I wanted to get involved in. So I quickly wound up my window when they waved me off and drove away in great relief.

I thought about how I could describe that accident blow-by-blow - the type of car, the drivers, the licence plates, where it occurred - and that is fine. But for those who were involved in it, at that moment it was a passionate affair. Christmas and the arrival of Jesus of Nazareth is a passionate affair. It is God's grace and God's love coming to us. Let us be careful, then, that we don't miss it. Let us be careful that this Christmas we do not ignore it, for one never knows what the future might bring.

Thomas Carlyle, the great writer, was deeply in love with his secretary and eventually married her. He was passionately in love with her but as time went on, he got wrapped up in his own work and spent very little time with her. Finally, she was diagnosed with terminal cancer and spent the last few months of her life in bed. Carlyle hardly went to see her. She was there, he loved her, but he was consumed with all his work. Finally, she died. Feeling a sense of grief, Carlyle climbed the stairs up into the bedroom where his sick wife had been laid. He did something he wouldn't normally do and that, were she alive, he would never do: He opened up her diary and began to read it. One entry said, “I heard his footsteps coming up the stairs. I had waited all day to hear his footsteps, but I guess it is now too late and he won't be coming in to see me.” The next day she had written: “He spent an hour with me. It was like being in heaven. I love him so much!” The one hour he had spent with her meant the world! Later, he went to her grave site. He knelt beside it and said, “If only I had known just how much you loved me and needed me!” But he hadn't been there.

Christmas is God saying to us, “If only you knew how much I love you. If only you knew what that first crib meant when I was born among you. If only you knew how much I was willing to give up for the sake of the world. If only you knew how much I want you to spend time with me. If only you knew.” My friends, this Christmas, you know. So prepare yourselves, for he is coming very soon to live with you. Amen.