The Best Christmas Ever
This
year, many of you probably noticed that we didn’t put up the Christmas lights
on the house. We have the tree in the
house. We have our outside tree. And I did put up lights on building…but not
the house. I’ll admit that I’ve felt a
bit guilty this whole Advent season about not putting up those lights. I didn’t put them up this year for a couple
of reasons: (1) I got tired of hanging upside down after dark over the edge of
the roof changing fuses when one of them would blow; and (2) over the last
couple of years I seemed to be trying to make each Christmas better than the
previous year’s. I’m trying to break
that self-imposed addiction that I have.
Must
every Christmas be bigger and better than the one before?[1] Tomorrow morning every parent hopes they
hear these words from their children, “This is best Christmas ever!” Everyone seems to bend themselves over
backwards to reach that lofty goal of holiday bliss for their loved ones.
The
same thing happens in the Church. Two
weeks ago, I heard people say, “Wow!
The kids really knew their songs and speaking parts!” Last week I overheard a number of you say,
“That’s the best Christmas cantata the choir has ever sung!” So what happens next year? Do these comments ratchet up the pressure to
make next year’s presentations even better?
Probably. Maybe the kids and the
choir should present a real duds next year so that the expectations for 2008
are lower.
Each
year, we preachers try and figure out a new angle to the old story to make this
the best Christmas ever. Preachers show
home movies to build warm fuzzies. One
church had communion where folks came up to a manger, instead of the Lord’s
Table, and they swaddled the bread in a Wonder Bread wrapper to point people to
the wonder of the season. If you ask
me, that’s kind of creepy.
Preachers
tell the Christmas story from every vantage point. I know I’m guilty of this. We talk about Mary, Joseph, Zechariah, Elizabeth, the wise guys,
the shepherds, Gabriel, the donkey who carried Mary, and other animals in the
manger. I can’t say I’ve heard preaching
from the vantage point of the star over the manger but I’m sure it’s happened.
What’s
going on here? We want to make this the
best Christmas ever. I’ve always kind
of wondered by Mark chose not to have a birth narrative in his Gospel. Matthew does. Luke does too. Why
doesn’t Mark? Maybe, even though Mark
is considered our earliest Gospel, he somehow knew we’d be trying to fix
Christmas from here on out and he didn’t want any part of it.
So
what will make this the best Christmas ever for you? What will you try and fix so that this year will be better than
last year…and the year before…and the year before that?
Let’s
listen to the text once again. (Read
Luke 1:39-55)
Mary
is on the run. She’s found out that
she’s pregnant and knows in the eyes of the world, her pregnancy will be
grossly misinterpreted. You see, she’s
not yet married. Somehow, she makes
peace with the idea and says, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be
with me according to your word.”[2] Anyone who has ever found themselves on the
outside of what’s culturally acceptable knows exactly what Mary was
feeling.
So
she goes to her relative Elizabeth’s house.
Elizabeth is also a bit of an outsider looking in. She’s not unmarried and pregnant. She’s old and pregnant. She and her husband Zechariah had lived for
years with condescending looks from others.
Surely they must have done something wrong to not have any
children. And Zechariah! Why he’s supposed to be a man of God! Who wants to have a pastor that others
consider cursed by God!? Both Mary and
Elizabeth are on the outside of culture looking in.
Yet,
when they get together, their reunion is one of praise. Elizabeth’s unborn child, John the Baptist,
does one of those famous loop-de-loops in the womb that most mothers remember. And Mary sings in worship. Both of these women have had their worlds
rocked by God. And though it wasn’t
called Christmas then, I’m quite sure that no other Christmas matched that
first one for them.
Here’s
where I think we should let ourselves off the hook a little bit. We should quit trying to make every
Christmas better than the previous one because it’s an unattainable goal. Is it possible in your household to simply
relish in that first Christmas without trying to upstage with our own
traditions? If you take this bold step,
you might find yourself on the outside of culture looking in. But then that’s what Christmas has always
been about: God including outsiders in his Kingdom.
What
about in this church? How are we
standing up for the Mary’s and Elizabeth’s in our world – those popular culture
seems to like to keep on fringes.
Michael
Lindval, a Presbyterian Minister, has written a wonderful book of church stories
about a little congregation in North Haven, Minnesota.[3] It was the custom in this church when a
child was baptized to ask the question, “Who stands with this child?” Then the parents, grandparents, and other
relatives come and stand with the baby and it’s a real joyous event.
One
week after church, and after one of these baptisms, a woman who worshipped
there regularly was seated in the back and seemed to be lingering. The pastor went up to her and greeted
her. She commented on the service…and
especially the baptism. Then said after
a rather long awkward silence, “My daughter Tina has had a baby and well, the
baby should be baptized shouldn’t it?”
This pastor replied, “Why don’t you have Tina and her husband come see
me and we’ll talk about it.” The woman
replied, “Tina doesn’t have a husband.
Even though she grew up in this church, she’s lost her way a bit. She got involved with this older boy and
well…now she’s pregnant.”
The
pastor talked about this situation with the leadership of the church at their
next administrative meeting. To their
credit, they talked about the seriousness of baptism and wondered, “How can we
be sure that Tina will take this seriously?”
In the end, they agreed to go ahead with the baptism…which was scheduled
for the 4th Sunday of Advent.
On
that Sunday, the church was packed as the congregation sang the usual Advent
hymns. When the time for the baptism
came, one of the leaders from the church stood and read off a card according to
their tradition, “Tina Corey presents her son James for baptism.” Tina got up and brought 2-month old James to
the front of the church. There was an
awkward silence in the church. The
pastor then asked the traditional question, “And who stands with this
child?” The pastor nodded at Tina’s
mother who hesitatingly got up and came to the front to stand with her grandson
and her daughter.
The
pastor was prepared to move on through the baptism service when he noticed here
and there people popping up and rising to their feet. First, a few elders, then a young couple, the 6th
grade Sunday School teacher, and soon the whole congregation was standing and
moving toward the front, clustered around this unmarried mother and her
son. Tina was crying…everyone else was
too. They were crying tears of joy for
the moment and tears of repentance for all those Christmases when their
intentions were good, but their aim misguided.
The
best Christmas ever happened when Jesus was born. We honor that first Christmas not with lights, not more
decorations, not more presents, not better performances, but by welcoming those
on the fringes into the kingdom of God.
The best Christmas ever already happened. But we can honor that first one…and every one after that...by
reaching out to those on the fringes.
Amen.