Luke 2:8-14

In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger." And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, "Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!"

One of my most vivid Christmas memories was the Christmas morning when I was eight years old. I awoke that morning as excited as a boy could ever hope to be. I ran down the hallway to the living room and found Santa had delivered quite a load of presents under the tree. It wasn’t really the number of presents that I was most excited about; rather, it was the anticipation that one of those boxes had the one thing I wanted above all–the only thing I asked Santa for that year – a Sega Genesis video game system with the Sonic the Hedgehog game.

My grandparents were joining us for the gift opening festivities. They loved watching me open presents; grateful that their grandson could receive gifts that neither of them could have imagined for themselves, given their upbringing in rural impoverished Eastern Kentucky and having one blue-collar income.

I started with the biggest presents because I knew the Sega Genesis had to be in one of those wrapped boxes. Of course, you know what is often in the larger boxes, right? Sweaters, jeans, and the gifts that are things an eight-year-old needs but isn’t particularly exited to open on Christmas morning. The kind of gift that gets an acknowledging glance, but then is casually tossed over the shoulder in order to find something more exciting.

A few minutes into the gift-opening extravaganza, I suddenly realized that I had opened all the boxes that could potentially contain my precious gift. I reluctantly opened the final gifts in the small boxes. They contained candy, action figures, card games, and baseball card packs; but no Sega Genesis.

I sat beside my tower of unwrapped presents, surrounded by a sea of torn wrapping paper, and did something I’ll never forget – I cried. No, that sounds a little to sympathetic and innocent. I mean, I threw a tantrum. I ran to my room and slammed the door. I laid on my bed and kept trying to figure out why Santa hadn’t brought me the one thing I wanted for Christmas. Had I been bad? Or worse yet, were the rumors about Santa true, after all?

Not two minutes later there was a knock on my door. The sound of my grandpa’s gentle voice passed through the door, saying, “I have something for you.” I opened the door and there was my grandfather, holding a beautifully-wrapped present – a BIG, beautifully-wrapped present.

I took it, tore it open, and read those glorious words: Sega Genesis.

My grandpa explained that he heard I wanted one special thing for Christmas, and that he and my grandma wanted to be the ones to get it for me. Since their arrival at our home the night before, the gift had been hidden in the trunk of their car. They were waiting until I had opened all the other gifts before giving me my special gift.

I give all my family members a ton of credit for even allowing me to receive that gift after how I acted. If I find either of my kids crying over not getting a particular toy all the while sitting beside a mountain of other toys, I’d probably through all the gifts into the trash! Heck, I’m surprised I didn’t end up in the trash!

I tell this story not just so you know I can be selfish and spoiled; but because it’s a story about how life’s blessings often come from the places and people we least expect – like a special gift delivered not from Santa’s sleigh but from the trunk of Grandpa’s rusty Dodge Aries.

And as we are gathered here on Christmas Eve, we remember that the Christmas story is, above all, a story about how life’s blessings often come from the places and people we least expect.

Perhaps you’ll find this illustration helpful in recognizing the unlikely and unexpected nature of the Christmas story:

Let’s break it down a bit.
Animals – smelly, filthy, untamed;
Foreigners – unwelcome, threatening, mysterious;
Straw – not the ideal bedding for a baby;
Shepherds – smelly, filthy, unwelcome…just like the animals they care for;
The “Nobodies” are Mary and Joseph. Mary–an unwed, pregnant, teenage girl still reeling from a bewildering encounter with an angel nine months earlier; and Joseph–a man engaged to a pregnant teenage girl.

Why would God choose to be born into a situation as messy, smelly, chaotic, imperfect, and scandalous as this?

Why? Because that’s exactly the kind of situation where grace happens. The same God of the Creation story, who bringing order into chaos and darkness in order to create life, is at it again in the Christmas story, bringing order into chaos and darkness in order to create life.

In telling the story of Jesus’ birth year after year we are reminded of God’s presence in the midst of our brokenness and imperfection; God’s presence in our stink and squalor.

Each of us here tonight is, to some degree, weighed down by fear, anxiety, apprehension, and doubt. Rather than be ashamed of these feelings; Christmas provides the opportunity to hold these out as imperfect places for God to be revealed to us. These feelings are not barriers barring God’s presence. Rather, they are simply more crazy characters to add to the nativity scene of our life, right next to the smelly donkey and shepherds. God shows up in our fear. God shows up in our anxiety. God shows up in our apprehension. God shows up in our doubt.

The birth of God in a stable in Bethlehem is unlikely and unexpected. This story turns our understanding of value, privilege, and victory on its head and replaces it with the truth that victory is innocence, power is in caring for others, and faith is uncertain hope-filled trust.

So on this Christmas Eve, a night of eager anticipation; prepare to unwrap the present you’ve been hoping for. But don’t be surprised to find the gift isn’t in a meticulously-wrapped box under a beautifully-decorated tree. Instead, God’s precious gift of life comes from the most unexpected places, whether the smelly stable of Bethlehem, in the midst of your dark emotions you’d prefer to ignore, or delivered personally from someone who loves you very much.

Amen.

Luke 1:39-45

In those days, Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”

For perspective of course, we need to know, or be reminded some, of what happened to Mary before she makes her way to visit her Aunt Elizabeth, with the news of her pregnancy, which is what she’s up to in today’s Gospel. There was an angel, remember, who appeared with all sorts of news for the young girl: that she had found favor with God; that the Holy Spirit would come upon her and that she would conceive and bear a son; that the child would be holy, that he would be called “Son of God”; that she would name him Jesus, because he was going to save his people from their sins. Oh, and that she should not be afraid about any of this, even though she was a virgin.

But it’s no wonder she got the heck out of town and headed for the hills to make her way to Zechariah’s place to find Elizabeth’s. And I like to wonder about all the reasons Mary left, like she did, and went to see her aunt and uncle. Maybe she went to Elizabeth because the angel told her aunt she was pregnant, too. Maybe she went to Elizabeth and Zechariah, because they were the cool aunt and uncle, she knew would help her out of this mess, or at least might help her explain things to her parents. Maybe she went to Elizabeth because Zechariah was a priest – a faithful man of God – who could confirm or deny whatever the heck was going on with those angels. Maybe she went, just because they lived in the hills, outside of town, and she could hide out there for a time, until she figured out what to do next.

Maybe…Maybe…Maybe. We can’t know exactly what drove Mary to Elizabeth out in the hill country of Judea. There may be a bit of truth to all of the above, for all I know. But I always feel under-qualified and ill-equipped to pretend I can make guesses about what a young girl, unmarried and pregnant, in first-century Palestine, might have been thinking or feeling or up to, in Mary’s shoes.

But I was reminded about something I’d seen several years ago on YouTube – a reading from Kelly Corrigan. I’ve shared a reading of hers with you once before. If you haven’t heard of her, Kelly Corrigan precedes Glennon Doyle Melton, of Momastery fame, in the literary genre of motherhood memoirs, but they seem to be cut from the same cloth. Anyway, something she wrote made me think of today’s Gospel, and gave me another way to imagine what Mary might have been up to when she ran off to find Elizabeth:

Now, because I pay attention to the way my wife is friends with her friends, it seems to me women are hard-wired for – or at least better at – this sort of thing than most men, and that we could all learn a thing or two from their example.

See, I wonder if Mary was looking for that kind of “circling,” that kind of transcendence, when she ran off to see Elizabeth. Maybe she needed a friend, a shoulder, a confidant. Maybe she needed a confessor, a partner in crime, someone to limp with, or someone to carry her through whatever was to come. Maybe she needed advice or comfort or encouragement. Maybe she was looking for a second opinion, or a way to help the time pass more quickly, or a belly laugh, or a howling cry of understanding and compassion.

And it seems to me that’s what she found in her Aunt Elizabeth. It seems some sort of transcendence – some stirring of the Holy Spirit – did transpire between Mary and her aunt.

And I wonder if that might not be our call and quest in these last days before our celebration of Christmas. I wonder if we’re called to be as bold and faithful and brave as Mary and Elizabeth – and as Kelly Corrigan and her friends – to offer that kind of holy, circling, transcendence to one another.

Maybe we need something from someone, ourselves. Maybe we have something to give to somebody else. Maybe there’s a shoulder to be offered, a tear to be shed, a confession to make, forgiveness to extend. Maybe the coming of this savior – for us and through us – will send us running, not with fear or despair, but running with hope and expectation, boldness and courage to grow relationships that matter, for a change; to grow deeper connections with others – that change us and that change the world in return. And maybe, all of this will happen, this time around, in ways that the coming of a child can inspire and that only the grace of God will allow.

Amen

Grandpa's Gift – Luke 2:8-14

"Mary and Elizabeth: Transcending Women" – Luke 1:39-45