Sermon 12/24/06
Do You See What I See? - Luke 2:1-20
(view lectionary notes for this text)
In one of the Bible studies I taught at St. Paul’s a year or two ago, a frequent exercise in the study was to lead the group through a scripture passage by focusing on the five senses – sight, sound, taste, touch, and smell. We would close our eyes and imagine together what a scene in the gospels would have been like – try to make it vivid and alive in our imagination by focusing on the senses. I have to tell you, the class didn’t really like this exercise. I’m not sure exactly why – maybe it is just that sometimes the world of the scriptures seems so unknown to us, so different from today’s world, that it is hard to imagine. There is a huge gap between the first Christmas and Christmas 2006, and sometimes the distance seems insurmountable.
But I think it’s really a shame if we can’t imagine what it would be like to jump into the pages of the scriptures, imagine what we would see and hear there. My favorite stories, the most compelling, best-written stories, are the ones that make me want to be a part of the story myself. When children read books like The Chronicles of Narnia or Harry Potter, they are so imaginative, such well-created worlds that children (and adults!) want to be a part of the world of Narnia or Hogwarts too. I love books like Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women, and reading her writing always makes me wish at least a little bit that I could have lived in the Civil War Era. I recently read a book called The Eyre Affair, which imagined a real world where it was possible to travel inside books, and visit the stories so well loved. I think wanting to be a part of the story means that we are fully engaged in the story, that we really believe the story is speaking to us, that we really have a place in the story, or that the story really has a place in our hearts. And if we can feel this way about the scriptures, then I think we have the chance to really let them speak to us, and really hear God’s word in the fullest sense.
What would it mean to go into these words from Luke and become a part of the first Christmas story? What would we see and hear and smell and taste and feel? Christmas today is still a season that engages our senses. But I suspect that we’ve changed the details quite a bit. Today the sights of Christmas involve red and green, and twinkling lights, and decorations of snowmen and reindeer. It looks like Christmas to us when we see evergreen and holly, when we see the Advent wreath, and when we see Christmas trees and poinsettias, and when the ground is covered with snow. And so this year, we hear many laments about how it hardly seems like Christmas – the grass is too green for it to be Christmas. And Christmas sounds? The sounds of carols, of jingle bells, of a Santa Claus ho-ho-ho-ing? The whiny of the horse in the Sleigh-ride song, or the Hallelujah Chorus? What about the smells of Christmas? The smell of cookies baking in the oven, or your favorite Christmas dinner dish? The smell of cinnamon, or the smell of fresh cut evergreen? The feel of sitting by a warm fire? The feel of velvety Christmas dresses? How about the tastes of gingerbread and candy-canes?
It is no wonder we have a hard time imagining that first Christmas. No wonder we have a hard time putting ourselves right into the story. Our traditions for Christmas these days are valuable and important and meaningful. They tie us together, and hopefully they create in us the warm, giving, and loving feelings that characterize the gift of God in the Christ child. But if we could put ourselves into the first Christmas, I think our senses would be overwhelmed with what a different scene we would be experiencing. So I invite you to imagine the story with me, to imagine that we are there, the first time.
What would we see? What scene would lay before us? The season when Jesus was born would have been a busy traveling season, just like it is today – only in this case, people were traveling because of the census – a time of tax-paying and returning to homelands. Imagine a busy inn, bustling with people who were tired from traveling, bustling with business people, bustling with government workers and soldier who were entitled to free lodging. An inn in Jesus day might have consisted of a circle of thatched rooms with a courtyard in the center. But the travelers would have to bring their own everything – own food, own bedding, own pots to cook with – so Mary and Joseph would be feeling literally weighed down with all they had to travel with. The manger they were allowed to stay in wouldn’t have been warm and cozy but more likely damp and dark. If they were sharing space with animals, they were also hearing the sounds of the animals, and dealing with the smells of livestock. An inn was a center of activity, and so this probably wasn’t a quiet and still night, but a night frequently interrupted by the sounds of other people going about their business, unaware of what was taking place so nearby. Mary and Joseph would have spent days traveling to reach Bethlehem from their home, days on foot, days going on a dusty, rough road. Traveling today makes us feel exhausted enough, tired and grubby and cranky enough – Mary and Joseph had a much harder trip, and Mary was full-term, ready to deliver. Imagine what an uncomfortable trip this was. And when babies are born today, they usually are born into clean and safe hospitals. But imagine your newborn being born in an animal stall, no fuzzy blankets, but some straw, some cloth, anxious parents with only themselves to make sure everything was ok, only the two of them there to experience the delivery. And then, soon after, strangers, shepherds, crashing into the only place they had been able to claim for themselves. Imagine them trying to explain to Mary and Joseph that they saw the sky filled with singing angels telling them to find this baby. Imagine fields quiet all night, suddenly bursting into song, first the songs of the angels, and then the sounds of the shepherds returning to work, praising God after they saw the baby Jesus.
Into this noisy, smelly, loud, chaotic setting, Jesus was born. Because in this noisy, smelly, loud, chaotic setting, God’s presence was so needed, so longed for, even if people didn’t know what it was they needed to fill their lives. Into the midst of such a world, God came, as one of us, to be one of us, and to be one with us. Into such a world, the Christ-child came, making a space for himself in the midst of all the sights and sounds of a busy world that barely would give him room to be born. In the midst of all these events, perhaps Mary alone was able to pause and truly see and feel all that was taking place. We read that “Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.” This Christmas, I wish that we, too, like Mary, can pause and really see and feel and know what is taking place. Into our world, our sometimes noisy and chaotic and unsavory and messy world, a child is born, and God has come to be with us. Treasure this! Ponder this amazing gift in your hearts. We have such full lives – but I’m asking you – God asks you to make room, make a space, where God can dwell within you.
“For a child has been born for us, and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. His authority shall grow continually, and there shall be endless peace.” Just imagine.
Amen.