Christmas Here & Now

Dave Barry reflects on Christmas:

 “In the old days, it was not called the Holiday Season; the Christians called it ‘Christmas’ and went to church; the Jews called it ‘Hanukkah’ and went to synagogue; the atheists went to parties and drank. People passing each other on the street would say, ‘Merry Christmas!’ or ‘Happy Hanukkah!’ or (to the atheists) ‘Look out for the wall!’

.  Once again we find ourselves enmeshed in the Holiday Season, that very special time of year when we join with our loved ones in sharing centuries-old traditions such as trying to find a parking space at the mall. We traditionally do this in my family by driving around the parking lot until we see a shopper emerge from the mall, then we follow her, in very much the same spirit as the Three Wise Men, who 2,000 years ago followed a star, week after week, until it led them to a parking space.”

Yes, it is tough to find the right signs to follow nowadays – signs that don’t just lead us to a parking space at the mall.  So many signs point us to the obvious – to internet sites to sell us more cheap stuff – or to a movie with yet more explosions, slashings, and fist fights.   How do we follow signs to something deeper, more refreshing, more calm? How do we seek the star of Bethlehem, or glimpse signs of God’s presence, signs of peace, harmony, and grace?  

Our present world convinces us that’s all there is; buying more stuff, scrambling for more. Yet this can leave us feeling empty, drained and alone.  Br. Kevin Hackett wrote this:  “Surely one of the darkest aspects of our growing love affair with technology is how it enables a kind of unbridled isolation. It is no accident that we do not have wePods, wePads and wePhones. No, it is I, I, I. With more to come.”   (

-- "Listen," Monastic Wisdom For Everyday Living).    Christ asks us search diligently, to journey through the desert seeking a star.  As we do, we let go of our small selves, and care for each other. We gather as God’s people to learn to listen, to share, to forgive, to have patience and to love.   In this way we discover the greatest gift, beyond gadgets and gizmos.

I just learned that the root of the word “disaster” comes from the medieval word “dis-astron” which means “without a star – ‘dis’= without, ‘astron’ = star.   So if we are without a star, without a clue or a divine guide or a savior, then this is a disaster.  In our noisy, gadget-driven world, we especially need a guide, a path, a method to determine what is true, what is the way to life, wholeness, peace and security.  We need a savior.  And we need a savior who comes down to be with us – down here in the dirt and hurt and uncertainties of this world, and who teaches us how to gather our hearts in community with each other.

I was in the sanctuary last week vacuuming the rug after our Bridges at the Shore program that had dozens of volunteers in here last Friday tracking in salt and mud, as they hauled bags and boxes out to donate to low-income neighbors in Keyport, Red Bank and Freehold.   I found myself grumbling to myself, why do we let them get our church so dirty; this is a mess.   But then I thought, wait, we worship God in here; God who came to us as Jesus and got dirty and bruised and beaten and bloody for us, and with us.   God isn’t interested in clean hands or staying out of the game.  God is in there with us, even here in this church, getting dirty.  So, in the end I didn’t mind a bit of vacuuming after all.

Molly Baskette tells this tale: “Once upon a time there was a little girl who had trouble sleeping.  Night after night, she’d wake her parents up and crawl in bed with them.  They loved the feeling of their young daughter snuggled up with them, but nobody was getting a good night’s sleep.  Finally, they put her to bed one evening with an order to stay there for the whole night.  She started to cry. Panicked, they said, “Sweetheart, you’re never really alone! Don’t you know that God is here with you, keeping you company?”

         “Yes,” she said through her sobs, “I know that God is here.  But I just want someone with a little more skin on.” 

The mystery and beauty of Christmas is that God does come to us with skin on; God comes ‘incarnate’ as Immanuel: God-with-us.   A poor family huddled in candlelight on straw in a cattle stall, laying their newborn child in a manger instead of a new crib.  Jesus enters into the dark hurts and grimy sorrows of this life.  God in Christ loves us, laughs with us, and sheds tears with us.  God is here, not in some palace in outer space blaming us for our mistakes.  No, God rolls up sleeves and works with us side by side, even going so far as to suffer and die for us on the cross.

This is the gold bestowed on us tonight by the God of grace; the true glory of Christmas – God with us, present in our isolation and sin.  Divine light is revealed, the Kingdom of God is built right here on earth, with justice, compassion and peace.  Christ enters into our lonely dark, holds our hands, and warms our hearts and souls with holy splendor.

Tony Campolo told a story about a deacon in his church who wasn’t “deaking”. He just didn’t do what he was supposed to do as a deacon. 

One day he said to the deacon, “I have a group of young people who go to the old folks home and put on a worship service once a month. Would you drive them to the old folks home and at least do that?”  The deacon agreed.

 

The first Sunday the deacon was at the old folks home, he was in the back with his arms folded as the kids were doing their thing up front. All of a sudden, someone was tugging at his arm. He looked down, and here was this old man in a wheelchair. He took hold of the old man’s hand and the old man held his hand all during the service. The next month that was repeated. The man in the wheelchair came and held the hand of the deacon. 

The next month, the next month, and the next month. 



Then the old man wasn’t there. The deacon inquired and he was told, “Oh, he’s down the hall, right hand side, third door. He’s dying. He’s unconscious, but if you want to go down and pray over his body that’s all right.” 

 The deacon went and there were tubes and wires hanging out all over the place. The deacon took the man’s hand and prayed that God would receive the man, that God would bring this man from this life into the next, and give him eternal blessings. 



As soon as he finished the prayer, the old man squeezed the deacon’s hand and the deacon knew that he had been heard. He was so moved by this that tears began to run down his cheeks. 

He stumbled out of the room and as he did so he bumped into a woman. She said, “He’s been waiting for you. He said that he didn’t want to die until he had the chance to hold the hand of Jesus one more time.”



The deacon was amazed at this. He said, “What do you mean?”

She said, “Well, my father would say that once a month Jesus came to this place. ‘He would take my hand and he would hold my hand for a whole hour. I don’t want to die until I have the chance to hold the hand of Jesus one more time.’”

At Christmas, God comes as a child to hold our hands. Jesus comes to be with us, Immanuel: God in our loneliness, fears and sorrows.  We look beyond street signs, shop windows and blinking screens to a deeper hope.  We follow a star that glows within our souls, and that is found in the depths of tradition and in the immediacy of our longing for God’s way of peace and holy justice.  He is our guide to deep meaning and purpose and love.

 We gather tonight as a community of faith to light candles to remind us of Christ’s love that illuminates our hearts. What greater gift can we give or receive?  Merry Christmas!   Amen.