Christmas Eve Sermon
Titus 2:11-14, Luke 2:1-14
Titus 2:11-14, Luke 2:1-14
Luke’s gospel begins, “In
those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus. . . while Quirinius was
governor of Syria.”[1] We don’t usually linger on these words as we
rush ahead to the familiar tale of the child in a manger, the angels in the sky
and the shepherds in the field. But when
we rush ahead we run the risk of creating a fairy tale in our minds, a story
that could begin, “Once upon a time, in a land far far away. . .” But instead the gospel writer asks us to stop
and take note – to take note of the empire, of Caesar Augustus, of the
governor, of the registration and taxation, to take note of a people living
under the imperial oppression of Rome.
These verses of Scripture are not simply an historical preface to the
story. These verses ARE the story.
Jesus the Christ is born
not among the ruling class but among those who are oppressed. In fact, Jesus joins the oppressed being
adopted into the house and family of David.
“The Word becomes flesh” and “the holy family is … found among the
systems of unfairness and indifference” in the world.[2] Paul Simpson Duke, a Baptist Pastor in Ann
Arbor reminds us that “Christ is born alongside the hard-pressed, the
struggling, and the broken.”[3] Born to an unwed girl. Born in a manger. And visited not by kings or princes – at
least not at first - but by some lowly shepherds who are among the most
socially unacceptable citizens, but who are the first to receive the Good News
of the Messiah’s birth from the mouths of angels.
“Christ is born alongside
the hard-pressed, the struggling, and the broken, some of whom are in church”
on Christmas Eve “and most of whom are not.”[4] And the question before
us this day is who is not here that
needs this Good News? Who is not here that desperately awaits good news? It is the gas station attendant, the hospital
workers, the waiters and waitresses whose work is not done this night? It is
the homeless man or woman who doesn’t feel welcome in the midst of our bright
celebration? It is the families waiting at our nation’s border wondering if
there might be room for them in the inn?
It is the one who has lost a loved one and faces their first Christmas
alone? It is the one who can barely pay their electric bill let alone buy gifts
to place under a tree. These are some of
the hard-pressed, the struggling, and the broken who are not here but
desperately await the Good News. And
that leads us to the passage from Titus for this night. Because that text tells us that not only has
the grace of God appeared to all in the birth of Jesus; but that this grace has
appeared for the purpose of training us to live in righteousness.[5]
While we want to hear
about the fairy tale, we get instead the Truth.
That Christmas is not solely about the magnificent gift we receive from
God but it is also about our response to that gift in our lives. For how we behave upon hearing of Christ’s
birth into the world is a demonstration of our understanding of Christ’s coming
– our behaviors are the hallmarks of Christ in us. Episcopal priest, Amy Peeler, says, “If God
intends for salvation to come for all (v. 11), those good works must be lived
out in such a way that those outside the walls of the church can hear the good
news about the appearance of salvation and ultimately be folded into the
patient instruction of God.”[6]
Just as God knew who most
needed to receive the Good News – Mary, the shepherds, the sick, the poor – and
so sent his Son, Jesus into the world to be amongst these people – just as God
knew who most needed good news, so too you and I know who needs the Good
News. May we find the courage to accept
the training God has given us and go forth into the darkness – into the dark
places of our world - to share the blessed hope we find in Christ the Savior.
There is a Night
Prayer in the New Zealand Prayer Book that has long been a favorite of mine.
I’d like to pray a few lines of it with you now.
The night is dark.
Let our fears of the darkness of the world and of our own lives rest in you.
Let our fears of the darkness of the world and of our own lives rest in you.
The night is quiet.
Let the quietness of your peace enfold us, all dear to us, and all who have no peace.
Let the quietness of your peace enfold us, all dear to us, and all who have no peace.
The night heralds the dawn.
Let us look expectantly to a new day, new joys, new possibilities.[7]
Let us look expectantly to a new day, new joys, new possibilities.[7]
This prayer speaks to us on this holy
night. Because it is into the darkness
and the quiet of that night long, long ago, that God slipped into the world of
organized imperial oppression and showed us another way, showed us a new way
filled with new joys and new possibilities.
As you leave this place, I pray that each of us might live more fully
into the dawn of this new day, that we might be so moved that we cannot help
but come alongside those in our time who are hard-pressed, struggling, and broken
until all of God’s creation - inside the walls of the church and outside –
until all know God’s love and mercy,
know the good news for their own lives and find in that good news, new joys and
new possibilities for being.
[1]
Luke 2:1-2.
[2]
Paul Simpson Duke, “Luke 2:1-14(15-20): Commentary 2: Connecting the Reading
with the World,” Connections: A
Lectionary Commentary for Preaching and Worship, editors Joel B. Green, et.
al., Year C, Volume 1, Advent through Epiphany, (Louisville: Westminster John
Knox Press, 2018), 78
[3]
Ibid.
[4]
Ibid.
[5]
Titus 2:11-12.
[6]
Amy Peeler, “Titus 2:11-14: Commentary 2: Connecting the Reading with the
World,” Connections: A Lectionary
Commentary for Preaching and Worship, editors Joel B. Green, et. al., Year
C, Volume 1, Advent through Epiphany, (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press,
2018), 74
[7]
The Anglican Church in Aotearoa, New Zealand and Polynesia, A New Zealand Prayer Book / He Karakia
Mihinare o Aotearoa, (San Francisco: Harper, 1989), 184.
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