Sermon 12/24/03
Miracles - Luke 2:1-20, John 1:1-18
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I started attending Rome 1st United Methodist Church when I was in sixth grade, after growing up in my grandparents' Methodist Church in Westernville. Coming into the 'big city' church in Rome was quite a shock to my system after attending a church for so long where my three brothers and I made up over ½ of the Sunday School on any given week. But one of the many things I quickly learned to love was the 11 o'clock Christmas Eve service. In Westernville we had a 7:30 service every year combined with the Presbyterian Church in town, where my clearest memory was of an older woman singing "In the Bleak Midwinter" every year, a hymn I still seem to hold a dislike for! There definitely was no 11 o'clock service to attend. So, when I started going to church in Rome, I was fascinated by the late night service. For one, the service usually ended after midnight, so you could officially say "Merry Christmas" and know that it was already technically that special day before you even went to bed. There were also fewer people there than the earlier service - it seemed more intimate, more quiet, more introspective. There were lots of candles, the music was more meditative than joyful and exuberant. All of these bits and pieces made it feel like, indeed, something special was about to take place in our midst. True, there weren't huge numbers of people, families packed into the pews left and right. The choir didn't sing as much at the late service, there was no children's message. And yet, we knew, it was really Christmas.
Tonight we have shared two scripture passages together. The first, the passage from Luke, is the one we usually think of when we think of Christmas - it's got the angels and the shepherds, the inn, the stable, Mary and Joseph, and of course, the baby. It's the whole Christmas story, right there, the story we know and love. But then we flip over to our reading from John, from the beginning of that gospel. We find no story about Jesus' birth there. Not a mention. Just these ambiguous words about, well, the word, and then, right away, we jump into the ministry of a very grown-up Jesus. What happened? How could John not consider Jesus' birth important enough to record? Where are Mary and Joseph? Where are the choirs of angels?
As I was reading over John's beginning, John's account, in his own, very different way, of Jesus' origins, it struck me that John's take on everything is somewhat like our 11 o'clock worship service tonight. John doesn't have to use all the characters, doesn't have to pull out all the stops to explain who Jesus is or why his birth is important. Instead, John fills us with the sense of mystery and majesty that is truly at the heart of our celebration. John uses metaphors, describes Jesus as the Logos, the Word. In the beginning was the Word, John writes, and the Word was with God and the Word was God. . . what has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. Christ is life, John writes, not just born 2000 years ago, but existing forever, for eternity, in God, in us. Our life, our light. Even though John doesn't talk about shepherds and the virgin birth and the angel choruses, he still communicates his message loud and clear. "And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory."
Can it be Christmas without the story from Luke? Is it Christmas if we only read John's story and don't talk about Luke's vivid pictures of a young couple struggling to bring a new life into the world? Of course, we don't really want to have Christmas eve without the manger story - it's a part of how we celebrate Christmas, it's a part of how we get inside this special event, put ourselves by the baby's crib, smell the crisp night air of the child's birth. But the true miracle of Christmas is that without us even being there, without being one of the lucky shepherds on that night, without seeing the star in the sky, without hearing the angles sing, without all the spectacle, Christ is still the Christ, Christ is still born anew into our hearts and our lives.
Probably all of you have read Dr. Suess' "How the Grinch Stole Christmas", or seen the recent movie with Jim Carrey telling the story of the Grinch. The Grinch, a grouchy monster-like grump tries to 'steal Christmas' from all the Whos in Whoville. He does this by taking away the food, the trees and the trimmings, the decorations, and especially the gifts. Come Christmas morning, however, he is shocked to find that the Whos are still celebrating, still holding their celebration without all of the extras. The Grinch feels his heart grow, realizing he can't stop Christmas from coming because the meaning of Christmas isn't a material thing.
The joy of Christmas for us is that it doesn't have to be December 24th or 25th for us to celebrate. God is with us, permanently, eternally, in the form of a newborn baby, in the shape of the very Word we speak, in the scriptures that we read, in our neighbors in the pews, in our neighbors halfway across the world, in the young man who suffered on a cross, in the air that we breath, in our hearts, God, forever, has chosen to come to earth, and dwell with in us. That is the Christmas miracle, that is the intimate reality that we come to celebrate tonight. The Word became flesh, and dwelt among us. Amen.