https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/122522-night.cfm
GOSPEL LK 2:1-14
Recently I had to have the battery in my watch replaced. So I went
to my favorite jewelers, and while I was waiting, the saleswoman asked if she
could share with me the story of her seven-year-old son. It seems that their
church had just selected the cast of characters for its annual Christmas play,
and her son had been chosen to be Joseph, an obvious honor for this young boy.
Then, imitating her son’s enthusiastic reaction upon hearing this wonderful
news, she placed her hands upon her heart, and smiling, shared his precious
exclamation: “Oh, thank you. I have waited all my life for this!”
God, too, had waited a lifetime, in fact, for an eternity to
become flesh within Mary’s womb and within the world of humanity! Tonight,
we are invited to share in the story of Luke’s account of the nativity, a
narrative that is highly charged with social, religious, and political
overtones. He wrote this specifically for his Gentile/Christian audience and
emphasizes that this divine child has humble origins, with no royal trappings
surrounding his birth. He is born during the course of a journey; the first
guests to his birthday party are the marginalized shepherds. He is a child for
all people, of all nations.
In our Gospel, we further contemplate the scene that is depicted
so vividly: Mary and Joseph are transients, equivalent to the homeless of our
city streets. She is a young woman in a patriarchal society, living in an
occupied nation, and brought her child into the world in the manner of
enormously disadvantaged people, that is, without the security of a home.
Mary and Joseph have traveled some 7-10 days to Bethlehem, so as
to be counted like sheep and registered according to the dictates of the
government. Bethlehem was an
arduous 94-mile journey from Nazareth, and Mary, in the last weeks of her pregnancy, rode on the back of a
donkey. Scholars assert that one could not travel this journey except in the twilight or
early hours of the morning, as both the heat of the day and the darkness of the
night drove people to cover. There were no hotels, restaurants, or waysides,
and sojourners carried water, perhaps some figs, olives, and a loaf of bread,
and slept on the side of the road. It was a difficult,
dangerous, and grueling journey for anyone, but in particular, for a young
woman in the last stages of her pregnancy. Indeed, it is quite reasonable to
assume that no health care provider would ever recommend either the journey or
the primitive mode of transportation for a woman preparing to bring her child
into the world.
Bethlehem is crowded with others who have made a similar journey,
and the expectant parents seek shelter, but to no avail. Finally, they are
directed to a cave, where they shelter with village animals. Upon the birth of
her child, Mary wrapped him in swaddling clothes, the traditional Palestinian
way of securing a newborn, and laid him in a manger.
Meanwhile, the first to hear the message of the miraculous yet
humble birth were shepherds tending their flocks in the fields, laborers of low
economic and social rank. They hurried to Bethlehem and found Mary and Joseph
and the child just as the angels had said. There, within the simple cave, the
displaced couple, the manger, and the shepherds came together to form the clear
image that our God comes to the world through the poor, the marginalized, the
powerless, and the oppressed.
However, if we listen between the lines of Luke’s account, we will
hear a foreshadowing of who this divine child will be as told through the
images, intimations, and figurative language in this sacred
story.
This child, too, will one day ride a donkey into a crowded city,
seeking an inn with an upper room to celebrate the Passover. There will be no
straw-filled manger, but his whole life will be a sacred table of welcoming and
mercy, and he will name himself as bread, wine, the Way, the Life, and a
shepherd who is good.
Raised as a carpenter, he will be familiar with the feel of the
wood beneath his beaten body, remembering the smell of Joseph’s small shop. He
will be laid in the arms of his loving and faith-filled mother once again, as
he is removed from his cross. He will be wrapped in a linen cloth, much like
his swaddling clothes from his moments of birth; but now, they will embrace him
in his death. He will be laid in a cave-like tomb, not warm with the
breath of animals nor shielded by the loving protection of Joseph as he was in
the stable at Bethlehem.
Then, with an inconceivable and unfathomable mysterious movement,
God will bring forth a cosmic energy that will move away stones and break
through boundaries and fears, and God will raise Jesus as the Christ born again
in every heart of humanity.
Yes, even angels will gather once again upon his rising from death
to new life and will sing of his glory as Messiah, Savior, Emmanuel, Wonder-Counselor,
and Prince of Peace. Jesus will have waited for this all his life!
This night’s story is known and re-enacted in almost every country
throughout the world, children dressing up as shepherds, wise ones, Mary and
Joseph, angels and innkeepers, sheep and camels. Yet, what does it mean for all
of us?
Each of us this evening is invited to reflect on our own nativity
story, recalling the images, details, visitors, and celebrations. We each have
been given the task of carrying forward the dreams, the vision, and the mission
of our God. Our faith does not depend upon an empty tomb or a lowly stable. Our
hope does not cause us to look to the heavens for angel choirs or cosmic
convergences of planets or celestial constellations.
But let it be known, “that the mystery of the nativity is that
love is made incarnate every time it deepens in us.” As we grow in love
individually, as a community, and as a people of God, we make love more present
in the world. “As Christmas is born again in each of us, it comes forth again
into the world.” No matter where we live, work, play, grieve, or celebrate, the
message and mystery of the Incarnation cannot be brought out once a year like
the nativity set decorations under our tree.
It is our everyday challenge to accept our call to carry on God’s
dream and vision for all humanity. . . And in the words of Pope Francis
. . . We are “to go forth and preach the Gospel to all: to all
places, on all occasions, without hesitation, reluctance or fear. The joy of
the Gospel is for all people: no one can be excluded.... That
is what the angel proclaimed to the shepherds in Bethlehem: ‘Be not afraid; for
behold, I bring you good news of a great joy which will come to all the
people.”
Finally, since this is the season and night of story, let us be
people of the story . . . stories of faith, hope, resilience, and love, as we
continue to share in the Word, the breaking of the Bread, the cup of Wine, the
sign of peace; and, shortly hereafter, leave for our homes, following the light
of the stars . . . for God has waited an eternity for us this night.
And so we pray:
“Light looked down and saw darkness. “I will go there,”
said light.
Peace looked down and saw war. “I will go there,” said
peace.
Love looked down and saw hatred. “I will go there,”
said love.
So the God of Light, The Prince of Peace,
The King of Love, came down and crept in beside
us.”
(Rev. John Bell)
(previously posted)
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