For All of Us: A Sermon for the Nativity of Our Lord Jesus Christ

On this most holy and joyful feast day of the Church, it can seem a bit odd that we come right out of the gate with the prophet Isaiah reminding us about “the people who walked in the darkness.” And if you are like me, when you hear sober passages from scripture like this on a day like Christmas, you might not want to linger too long “in a land of deep darkness.”

But before we get to marvel at the wondrous miracle of baby Jesus in the manger, our Church tradition presents us with the “rod of the oppressor” and “boots of trampling warriors.”  Without the darkness, violence, and oppression that Mary, Joseph, and their ancestors experienced, the light that emerged from the manger wouldn’t have been necessary and so profoundly bright. Indeed, the darker the darkness, the brighter the light.

I have oftentimes remarked that it really is a wonder how any of us here and now are Christians. Our holy scriptures were written by oppressed, marginalized people, and their original audience was the same. In what we call The Song of Mary - or The Magnificat - Jesus’ mother Mary sang about God casting down the mighty from their thrones, lifting up the lowly, filling the hungry with good things, and sending the rich away empty. So, as people of relative privilege, what are we to do with this ever-present and fundamental scriptural theme of God liberating the oppressed? Can these stories be our stories too? With my list of first-world problems, what am I to do with a Bible that confronts me as often as it comforts me? Even on the joyful feast of Christmas, must I journey with the oppressed  through the harrowing darkness in order to arrive at the manger?

The short answer to that question is yes. We must travel through the darkness - and arrive at the closed, locked doors of the Innkeepers - before we can bask in the light at the foot of the manger. And while I recognize that here in the 21st century United States, we, in many ways, have it much better than the ancient Israelites of our scriptures, I think it is short-sighted and uncharitable to assume that none of us, in spite of our relative privilege, are immune to the darkness and therefore not in need of the light of Christ.

We aren’t living under the heel of oppressive, tyrannous empires such as Babylon or Rome. But all of us have been through or are currently living in some sort of darkness, and we are all in - in one way or another - in  desperate need of God’s light to shine. If there has ever been a time when we have longed for God’s light to shine, it is now. 2020 has been a dark year in many ways for so many people all over the world. I don’t know about you, but I am tired. I am tired of this pandemic. I am tired of wearing a mask. I am tired of having to ask you to wear a mask. I am tired of limited gatherings. I am tired of the social awkwardness that comes with no hugs, no handshakes, and no visible smiles. I am tired of partisan politics, division and conflict. I am tired of being constantly manipulated by the news and social media industries. I am tired of not being able to visit people in the hospital and in their homes. There are many more things that are making me tired right now. No, I did not walk barefoot and pregnant from Nazareth to Bethlehem in the cold and dark because the government required me to, only to find no place to stay. But I am nonetheless tired. And I suspect that many of you are too. 

What this general, widespread fatigue tells us is that we too have experienced and are experiencing the darkness that we read about in scripture. Just because some of our problems might be considered first-world problems doesn’t mean that we aren’t in profound need of God’s light to shine in our lives. Think about it, what does it say about God if my problems aren’t big enough for God to care about? If I am not as oppressed as those about whom we read in our scriptures, am I disqualified from receiving God’s light? If so, what does that say about God if I can’t receive his grace, mercy, love, and redemption? 

And of course, many of our problems can’t just be sloughed off as first world problems. Our relative privilege doesn’t make us immune to death, divorce, broken relationships, and serious illness, all of which we have experienced in our parish family this year. And one thing is for certain - regardless of who we are, where we come from, and what our situation is, we are all affected by the ultimate problem - humankind’s broken relationship with God. Dare I say the word “sin” at a Christmas Eve service? God didn’t become incarnate in Christ to become our therapist or even our pastor. God became incarnate to reconcile all of humankind to himself. As NT Wright says, in Christ, God was on a rescue mission. The letter to Titus framed it this way: “He it is who gave himself for us that he might redeem us from all iniquity and purify for himself a people of his own who are zealous for good deeds.” 

A fairly common response to the question “How are you doing”  - at least from folks who either knowingly or unknowingly are influenced by the theology of John Calvin - is to say “Better than I deserve.” That response is indeed theologically sound and true. But the thing about that response is that it applies to everybody. God doesn’t bless us because we deserve it. God doesn’t bless us because of who we are or what we have done. God blesses us because of who God is and what God has done. And this a day when we joyfully celebrate what God has done.

And God didn’t choose to become incarnate in Jesus Christ to reconcile this fallen world to himself because we deserved it. But God chose to become human - to live and die as one of us - because God loves each of us more than we could ever imagine. Simply put - with God, there is enough love, mercy, and grace always and forever and for everyone. As our reading from Titus says, “For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all.” God chose to not only shine the light in the darkness but also to be the light in the darkness for the Jew and the Gentile, the slave and the free, the male and the female, the rich and the poor, democrats and republicans, people with first-world problems and people with third-world problems. All of us - whether we know it and feel it or not - are in need of Christ’s light to shine and illuminate the path that lies in front of us. And because of the person whose birth we celebrate today - Jesus Christ - none of us are disqualified from receiving it. And that is Good News indeed. Thanks be to God, and Merry Christmas!