CHRISTMAS DAY – 25 DECEMBER 2006

ST PAUL LUTHERAN CHURCH, ABQ NM – The Rev. P. L. Holman

Matthew 2:13-23

“Born to be real”

[Read verse 13…]

Wait a minute – after who left?  Matthew tells the story of Jesus’ birth a bit differently from Luke.  Yes, there are shepherds and an angel, a star and a manger…. 

[finish the reading]

Why this messiness?  Can’t we stay with the wonder and mystery and joy of Christmas for just a bit longer?  Yes we can, and yes, this is it: the wonder and mystery is that God took on REAL flesh, REAL life, really real life situations like those we know all to well…like that of refugees, victims of violence and war, running for protection, subject to prejudice and mistaken always… [from Andrew Mayak, the Sudan, written in Kakuma refugee camp]

            Into the wild and painful cold of the starless winter night

                        came the refugees,

                        slowly making their way to the border.

The man, stooped from age or anxiety,

                        hurried his small family through the wind.

            Bearded and dark, his skin rough and cracked from the cold,

            His frame looming large in spite of the slumped shoulders:

            He looked like a man who could take care of whatever

                        came at them

                        from the dark.

            Unless, of course, there were too many of them,

            One man he could handle…two, even…

                        but a border patrol…

            They wouldn’t have a chance.

            His eyes, black and alert,

                        darted from side to side, then over his shoulder,

                        then back again forward.

            Had they been seen?

            Had they been heard?

            Every rustle of wind, every sigh from the child,

                        sent terror through his chest.

            Was this the way?

            Even the stars had been unkind –

                        had hidden themselves in the ink of night

                        so that the man could not read their way.

            Only the wind…was it enough?

            Only the wind and his innate sense of direction…

            What kind of cruel judgment would that be,

                        to wander in circles through the night?

            Or to safely make their way to the border

                        only to find the authorities waiting for them?

God was born into this world to be real, to take on the fullness of all our struggles and to transform them by the power of Hope.  The very power that guided Joseph to lead Mary and the babe to safety in Egypt, that ached for the loss of innocents at the hand of evil, is the very power that led him accept Mary in the first place rather than shunning this one who was suddenly with child not his; it is the very power that guided his patriarchal ancestor and namesake Joseph to interpret dreams to help save his own skin in Pharoah’s court and his own family in time of famine. 

This power is the very power that blows through our days in places we least expect it, in halls of government and halls of classrooms, in chambers of death and chamber so torture, it is the very power of hope against hope even in the face of death: for God so loved the world that God sent Jesus, born of Mary, to stand all the principalities and powers, all the things we think are right and orderly on their head.  “For unto us a child is born, unto us one is given” the prophet foretold and Mary delivered, God’s Spirit directed and Joseph, man of faith, guided…  God’s great surprise continues to unfold through the hands and feet of those who watch and wait, who serve and tend, who teach and nurture, who hope and pray… Those who make a home for the homeless even if only through a bit of bread and a cup of water, who make it possible even for refugees to feel free like a butterfly when it flies from flower to flower, free like a fish moving in the water…home, like a second heaven.  [from Andrew Mayak, the Sudan, written in Kakuma refugee camp]

            He glanced at the young woman, his bride.

            No more than a child herself,

                        she nuzzled their newborn, kissing his neck.

            She looked up, caught his eye, and smiled.

            Oh, how the homelessness had taken its toll on her!

            Her eyes red, her young face lined,

                        her lovely hair matted from inattention,

                        her clothes stained from milk and bay,

                        her hands chapped from the raw wind of winter.

            She’d hardly had time to recover from childbirth

                        when word had come that they were hunted,

                        and they fled with only a little bread…

            Suddenly, the child began to make small noises.

            The man drew his breath in sharply;

                        the woman quietly put the child to breast.

            Fear…long dread-filled moments…

            Huddled, the family stood still in the long silence.

            At last them an breathed deeply again,

                        reassured that they had not been heard.

            And into the night continued

                        Mary and Joseph and the Babe.

                                                [Ann Weems, KNEELING IN BETHLEHEM (1980) Westminster Press, pp.59-60]

Into this day and into the future, Emmanuel – God is with us.  So we continue…

in hope for reconciled relationships and healed bodies,

in hope for an end to violence and hatred and war,

in hope for the in-breaking anew of peace…

we continue, trusting not in our desires but in God’s will….trusting in the One born so long ago in simplicity, born anew this day in us.

This is the Gospel – the Good News of the Lord.

THANKS BE TO GOD.

Amen.