watch - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uXnlvyWETRQ
Christmas
Eve, 2020
Fisher Court, in Clawson, MI, a suburb of Detroit is
where I spent my childhood. From the end
of our short driveway, you could see the elementary school a half block away to
your right and town hall a full block and a half to your left. On the other side of town hall was the
baseball fields where I played little league.
The fields were on the grounds of the junior high school. We call it “junior high” back then, 7th
and 8th grade. The junior high
was connected to the senior by our town pool, a wonderful, indoor poor. It had a high dive and a 12-foot deep-end. One of the great accomplishments of my life
was touching bottom in that deep- end.
A Christmastime, when it would be completely dark by 6PM,
we would drive one mile to my grandmother’s house. As we passed the town hall, we kids were
thrilled to see the town’s nativity set-up illuminated by neon lights, with
glimmering letters that said “Noel.”
When we saw the baby Jesus in the manger, whichever one of us kids saw
“Noel” first would shout, “Sing for it, Daddy.” My dad’s baritone voice would belt out “The
First Noel, the Angel did say.” It feels
like we made that trip and asked my dad to sing like that about 100 times. Every time I remember it, the number
grows.
That memory sticks out for
me; maybe your family did something one year, one Christmas. It affected.
Twenty years later, forty years later, you look back and you swear, “Oh
we did that every year.”
What stuck out from that
night in Mary’s mind? Was it how tired
she was, making that journey to Bethlehem by donkey while pregnant? Was it the kindness of the innkeeper? Our tradition slants the story, casting the
barnyard birth as one more misfortune. Poor
Joseph, Mary, and Jesus, relegated to a night among farm animals with no room
in the inn. We forget that
hospitality was an ultimate value in the ancient near east. Joseph and Mary may have been grateful that someone
gave them a safe, warm, dry, private place for the baby to be born. We cast our modern sensibilities, but Jesus
was certainly not the first or last to be born in such hard circumstances. The story shows his humble beginnings. His entire life, he would identify with
peasants and he would alienate governors, priests, and kings.
What did Mary
remember? The visit by excited shepherds? The nearness of angels? Relief at a healthy birth? The steadfast, quiet compassion of her new
husband Joseph?
What sticks out for you as
a Christmas memory, something that transcends time and becomes bigger with each
passing year? How we experience events
in our memory impacts us as much as the original event. When this time of year comes round, what thoughts,
unbidden creep into your consciousness?
What memories flood your mind, blindsiding you?
Some are wonderful
memories? When I remember yelling “Sing for it, Daddy,” in my memory, my father
is an opera-quality baritone belting out “The First Noel.” I know my dad, in actuality, is a passable church-choir
bass-baritone, but not a professional singer.
Knowing that does not change my memory, where my dad sounds just a
little better than Josh Groban as we drive and he sings.
I know many of our stories
of the birth of Jesus have taken on legendary status that more resembles rich
story-telling than precisely recorded history.
Yes, Jesus was born of the virgin, Mary.
Yes, his birth was in a Bethlehem stable because Joseph and many other
Bethlehemites were forced to go there by the edict of a Roman census. Beyond these barebone facts, a story
surrounds the birth of the Savior. In
churches like ours, in grand cathedrals where thousands worship, in candlelit,
third-world village chapels where less than a dozen gather, and in numerous
other places worldwide, God moves in the telling of the story just as God moved
in Mary and Joseph and shepherds and the innkeeper the night of Jesus’
birth.
We have our memory and our
memory defines us in powerful ways. Our entry
and re-entry into this story that we hear and believe shapes us. Part of who we are as God-worshippers is tied
to the hearing and telling of the birth of Christ each year. It’s no longer the year from Hell, 2020! Not tonight.
Tonight, it’s Christmas Eve, and we are transported to Bethlehem. Like a thousand Christmas Eves prior, we are
gathered with church and family once again for the birth of Christ.
Moments stand out in our
memory. My mind is fixed upon a moment
in 1986 or 1987. I am not sure of the year,
but I remember the moment vividly. We
were staying at my Grandmother’s house on 7 Mile Road in Detroit. We had gone out. When we got back to the house, I can see my
grandmother’s face as she opened the front door. Something was wrong. Someone had broken in and robbed her while we
were out. She lived in a high-crime
city, Detroit, and crime came her way Christmas Eve. It didn’t feel very good at the time, but
what I take away from the moment is our family was together, and the feeling of
being violated did not last. The love of
family and the spirit of making it a merry Christmas anyway is what
lasted.
What moments were fixed in
Mary’s mind from that night? What
moments come back to you with instant recall when it is Christmas Eve and you
sink from the immediacy of the present into the fullness of your entire story?
From moments and memory,
we have to move forward, but not too quickly.
We don’t rush to what’s next. We take our time. Christmas Eve is not time to rush
anywhere. But calmly, deliberately, we
know tomorrow comes and life continues forward.
Mary and Joseph would
settle in Bethlehem, but not for long. Within a year, strange visitors from the
East, the Magi came. These Persians gave
extravagant gifts to this poor family.
God told Joseph in a dream that had to leave, and so they fled to Egypt,
to avoid the murder of Jesus at the hands of Herod’s soldiers. Then, finally, God told Joseph in a dream
they were to return, and they did, settling in Nazareth. They raised Jesus there.
We savor the moments that live
in our memories. We also move forward from
those moments. We move forward in faith. That’s what Mary and Joseph did. They cherished the baby Jesus, and, in faith,
raised the child Jesus.
Think on cherished
memories Christmas Eve evokes in your heart.
Take a moment. Ponder them. Consider
what memories might be made tonight, Christmas Eve 2020. God is here and loves us. God has you in His hands. On this very night, His spirit can bless you so
that you’re empowered to face whatever life brings next.
As we close our service
and sing “Silent Night,” open yourself to God.
Receive what God gives. Open your
heart to receive God’s spirit. You don’t
need to ponder moving forward right now.
Just sit in this moment before God.
Receive his love as His Spirit washes over you.
Leaving worship full, you
will have all you need to go forward in faith.
AMEN
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