Tag: Jesus’s Birth

Nothing to Lose; Everything to Gain

“‘Dear Lord God, I wish to preach in your honor. I wish to speak about you, glorify you, praise your name. Although I can’t do this well of myself, I pray that you may make it good.’”[i]

Now it happened, writes Luke, in those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus to take a census of all the inhabited world … and all the people were going to enroll, each one to their own city (v1,3). Luke’s story about the event of Christ’s Nativity contrasts with what we expect it to be. Experiences and feelings of hope and peace, of love and joy, fill our expectations of Christmas and its season. But, on that night, for Mary and Joseph, for the shepherds at work, there was no hope and peace, there was no joy and love. There was fear. There was anxiety. There was chaos. There was pain (physical and emotional, maybe even spiritual). There was worry and concern threading through every thought and action. There were people struggling to find bravery when they needed it the most.

Luke narrows the scope of the story, focusing in on Joseph and Mary humbly going on their way: Now, Joseph went up from Galilee out of the city of Nazareth into Judea into the city of David being called Bethlehem because he was of the house and lineage of David. He went to be registered with Mary, the one who had been betrothed to him and the one who was pregnant (vv4-5). On that night, Mary and Joseph made a tough journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem. The path wasn’t easy, the ride wasn’t smooth, the forecast was unknown, and there was no confirmation that when they got to Bethlehem there would be lodging. On that night, all was not calm; it was scary and unknown because, on that night, tensions rose and the potential for harm from chaos loomed with every step they took. Adding to this heavy burden, Mary was ready to give birth to her first-born son; her body ached, her spirit fatigued, her mind consumed with what might happen if her time came. On that night, she fought to be brave—walking all that way, not wanting to be a burden to Joseph, unknowing of what was to happen or what would come. Where was God in this for Mary?

And what of Joseph on that night? We don’t hear much about his plight as he made his way, leading the pregnant Mary, to Bethlehem, away from the comfort of his own town of Nazareth, the places and spaces he knew so well. The discomfort of the unfamiliar road and journey barely eclipsed the rolling and roaming narrative in his head: is she telling me the truth? I know the angel spoke to me, but it feels strange, surreal, farfetched… Thoughts of the census accompanied his human doubt and questioning, what will happen to use once this census is done and all the chips are collected into wealthy pockets?[ii] As they traveled into Bethlehem and faced closed door after closed door, Joseph’s brave face faltered as he watched Mary’s face give way to the first pangs of labor. Now it happened, Luke writes, while being there, her days completed… (v6)One prayer passed over his lips, please let me find somewhere safe for her, for him…this child… that’s not even mine… Everything felt up to him; as frustration, fear, and maybe even some resentment began to surface, the burden continued to weigh down on his shoulders.[iii] Where was God in this for Joseph?

In a stable in Bethlehem, they felt safe enough. …[Mary] brought for her first-born son, and she wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger because there was not lodging for them (v7). Neither Joseph nor Mary thought this situation ideal, but it was what it was. And, for now, the child was safe in the wooden manger and hay, among the animals forming fortress around the exhausted couple and the long-awaited Messiah of Israel and the world. Those who felt exhausted from the long, lonely journey, felt beleaguered by the socio-political demands of Caesar Augustus and Syrian Governor Quirinius,[iv] and isolated from family, those who wondered where God was in their plight, now had God in their midst, dwelling among them. God as brave, poor[v] infant daring to face the world in vulnerable humanity: to feel every pain, every sadness, every frustration with systems and ideologies set up and upheld just to keep the already down, down. This one, this brave divine infant, will be the one to heal the fractures existing among humanity and between humanity and God and creation, the fractures that fuel injustice, war, hatred, domination, inequality and inequity, disunity and discord.[vi]

And Shepherds were in that region spending the night and keeping guard through the night over their flock (v8). The shepherds held ground in that dark night, in that silent night. There was, of course, worry about potential animal attacks on their sheep;[vii] there was more worry about what would happen to them and their flock once the census completed. How much more will I lose? I already have so little and this feels like a kick in the gut while down… The shepherds feared not the literal wolf, but the metaphorical one, the one against whom they could not fight and if they did, they knew they would not win.[viii] The shepherds, the oppressed of the oppressed, where afraid; it is quite certain their blanket of anxiety that night did not keep them warm but it sure kept them awake and on guard.[ix] That night, those shepherds didn’t feel that brave as the powerful were gearing up to take what they wanted and they couldn’t do anything about it. Where was God for them?

And then to those who were eager to stay unseen and unnoticed, were exposed by divine, celestial light.[x] Luke describes,

And then an angel of God came upon them and the glory of God illuminated them, and they were frightened with a great fear. And the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid! For, BEHOLD!, I announce to you great joy whichsoever will be for all the people. A savior was born for you today—who is the Lord Christ—in the city of David. And this is a sign for you, you will find a newborn child having been wrapped in swaddling closes and being laid in a manger. And suddenly it happened a great number, an army of heaven appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to the most High God and upon earth peace among humanity whom God favors!” And it happened the angels left from them into heaven… (vv9-15a).

Heavenly light encompassed the shepherds, and for this moment they are center stage in this divine drama. It’s not Jesus the Christ, it’s not God in a ball of fire or voluptuous cloud, it’s not kings or princes, not emperors or governors, it’s not even Mary, the “God-bearer”, who is the center of attention here. It’s the shepherds, the lowly, unclean, unknown, unseen, not-all-that-brave-in-this-instance shepherds.[xi] They are not only addressed by divine representative, they are sent to go find God in a stable, in the hay and wood, among animals, among two very tired, fatigued new parents.

And they go! They are addressed by divine messengers and they are terrified by them,[xii] but they still go because there is always comfort and joy in God’s Goodnews.[xiii] Luke tells us, and they went and hastened and they found Mary and Joseph and the newborn child being laid in the manger (v16). These shepherds feeling, a bit unbrave against the raging of the kingdom of humanity, feel empowered by divine Spirit to go and dare to be in the presence of God without an mediator they know of. These lowly are now the brave, these unclean are now the righteous ones seeking and finding God in God’s humble abode and vulnerable body, it is these humble who are the first to be sent on a great divine mission in the world seeking, finding, and embracing the one who will bring both spiritual and temporal[xiv] release and instigate the divine mission of the revolution of life, love, and liberation to Israel and to the world to defeat the death, indifference, and captivity of the kingdom of humanity.[xv]

Conclusion

Every year I tell you that we are the shepherds, we are part of the rabble that is surrounding the baby Christ in the wooden manger and straw bedding. And this isn’t wrong, we are.[xvi] We are the ones peering in and being vicariously included, completely invited in this story as witnesses and onlookers.[xvii] We are the ones filled with anxiety, plagued with sorrow and grief, dreading what is to come from our own socio-political realities…more anger? More strife? More fear? More division and derision? We’re the ones struggling to be brave in the face of it all. And we’re the ones met tonight by the divine baby in the manger just like the shepherds.

But it’s more than just that; there’s more good news. The theme of tonight’s sermon is bravery. It is the case, in the divine economy, that those who have the least to lose can be the bravest.

Why did Mary say yes to God all those months ago? Because she, the lowly and poor, had little to lose and everything to gain.

Why did Joseph say yes to Mary by way of angelic vision? Because he, the lowly and poor, had little to lose and everything to gain.

Why did the shepherds say yes and hasten to find the new family carrying divine hope, peace, joy, and love into and for the world? Because they, the lowly and poor, had little to lose and everything to gain.

These are the bravest. And each of them was sent by divine summons to go and be in the world in a new way: a way trusting God, a way following Christ, a way empowered by the divine Spirit of God.

The baby is delivered. The mother is exhausted. Step-dad, too. The angels and the host of heaven have announced, glorified, and sang. The shepherds have heard and have found. But the work of Christmas is just beginning… because the baby of Christmas, Jesus the Christ, is born in our hearts tonight and now we become the brave ones called and sent.

“The Work of Christmas” —by Howard Thurman
When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among others,
To make music in the heart.

Tonight, we are, along with the Shepherds, along with Joseph, and along with Mary, being sent to do something brave: to dare to have hope, dare to work for peace, dare to rejoice, and dare to love. And we can dare to do such things because this daring comes with nothing to lose, and everything to gain. It is by our faith in Christ, the humble, vulnerable infant born this night, that we can dare because he has gone before us and promises to be with us every step of the way. Immanuel, Immanuel, has ransomed captive Israel.

[i] LW 54:157-158; Table Talk 1590.

[ii] Gonzalez, Luke, 33. “A census had sinister implications. It was not just counting people in order to see how many they were, and what population trends were. In ancient times, and long thereafter, a census was in fact an inventory of all the wealth of a region—its people its animals, and its crops—so that the government would be able to tax people to the maximum. A census usually announced greater poverty and exploitation. It was as welcome among the subjects of the Roman Empire as undocumented immigrants in industrialized nations welcome a census today.”

[iii] Gonzalez, Luke, 33. “As usual, oppression is not a merely political matter, the concern only of those directly involved in politics. It also reaches the everyday lives of people, as is seen in the very fact that Jospeh and Mary have to travel to Bethlehem even though she is about to give birth.”

[iv] Gonzalez, Luke, 33. “The setting is rather that of people living under an oppressive regime. The mention of August and Quirinius—as earlier the mention of Herod—is political charged. For a period before the advent of the Roman Empire, the Jews had been struggling against Syrian domination. Now their land was ruled from Syria by a governor appointed by Rome. Whatever the actual chronology may have been, the political structure is clear: the Jews have a puppet government under Syrian and Roman power.”

[v] Cardenal, Solentiname, 24. “‘[Christ] was the greatest revolutionary, because being God he identified with the poor and he came down from heaven to become a member of the lower class and he gave his life for us all. The way I see it, we all ought to struggle like that for other people and be like him. Get together and be brave.’”

[vi] Ernesto Cardenal, The Gospel in Solentiname, translated by Donald D. Walsh (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2010), 23. “[Jesus] was born into a humanity divided and dominated by crime in order to unite us and to change the order of things. And that’s where we are.”

[vii] Justo L. Gonzalez, Luke, Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible, eds. Amy Plantinga Pauw and William C. Placher (Louisville: WJK, 2010), 33. “This is not a mellow. Bucolic story about some shepherds tending their sheep with little or no care beyond the possibility of a wandering wolf. That is not the setting in which Luke presents the story.”

[viii] Gonzalez, Luke, 33-34. The shepherds, “they live out in the fields, suffer all kinds of deprivations and even dangers, in order to protect their flocks. But the census threatens a new danger, a wolf more dangerous than any four-legged beast, a wolf that will probably decimate their flocks, and whom they cannot fight, for it is too powerful. It is not difficult to imagine what would be the talk of such shepherds as they sought to remain awake through the night.”

[ix] Gonzalez, Luke, 34. “…the setting itself was one of fear and oppression.”

[x] Gonzalez, Luke, 34. “One of the ways in which the ‘little people’ mange to survive under oppressive regimes is not to call attention to themselves. They seek to go on with their lives unnoticed by the powerful, who could easily crush them. Now these shepherds are literally in the lime-light and an obviously powerful personage confronts them.”

[xi] Cardenal, Solentiname, 26. “Felipe: ‘The angel came to them because they were working men, and I find this is very important for us. Because they were poor little people who were working. They were watching over their sheep which is like taking care of cattle today. They were workers, laborers, poor people. The angle of God could have gone to the king’s palace and said to him: ‘The Savior has been born.’ But the angel didn’t go where the king was but where the poor people were, which means that this message is not for the big shots but for the poor little guys, which means the oppressed, which means us.’”

[xii] Gonzalez, Luke, 34. “It is in that scene, perhaps silent, but not as peaceful as we tend to depict it, that an angel suddenly appears before the shepherds, and they are terrified. Their fear is not surprising.”

[xiii] Gonzalez, Luke, 35. “An encounter with God’s power and might leads to awe and terror, but then God’s gracious word produces joy and comfort.”

[xiv] Gonzalez, Luke, 36. “The title, ‘Savior’ (sōtēr) was employed in the Septuagint (the Greek version of the Hebrew Bible that Luke used) to refer both to God and to those whom God sense to liberate Israel. In the Hebrew scriptures, the function of such liberators in either purely religious nor purely political.”

[xv] Gonzalez, Luke, 36. “The ‘saviors’ in the Hebrew Scriptures liberate Israel from its political oppressors so that the people may be free to serve and obey God…Thus when the angel announces Jesus as ‘Savior,’ his declaration has both political and religious overtones. The child who had been born will free the people from bondage—bondage both to their sins and to their oppressors.”

[xvi] Cardenal, Solentiname, 26. Thomas Peña “‘The way I see it is that those guys who were watching over their sheep heard good news. There they were just like us here, and they heard good news.’”

[xvii] Cardenal, Solentiname, 28. “I: ‘That’s right. At this very moment you are receiving the same news form the angel that the shepherds received.’”

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Summoned as Shepherds

Psalm 96:1-3, 11 Sing to God a new song; sing to Abba God, all the whole earth. Sing to God and bless God’s Name; proclaim the good news of Abba God’s salvation from day to day. Declare God’s glory among the nations and wonders among all peoples. Let the heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad; let the sea thunder and all that is in it; let the field be joyful and all that is therein.

Introduction

The Psalmist exhorts their audience, “Sing! Sing to God a new song! Sing to Abba God, all the whole earth! Proclaim the good news! Declare God’s glory! Rejoice!” These words beckon cheer and joy, soliciting from the intended audience a response that joins in with the earthly and celestial symphony affirming God’s goodness and greatness. The psalmist beseeches help from the heavens, the seas, the fields, the trees and woods to join in this chorus of praise for God’s glory, power, might, honor, majesty, splendor, and beauty. The psalmist—caught up in the majestic splendor of God’s goodness, righteousness, and truthfulness—invites the cosmos into their celebration, from the peaks of the mountains to the depths of the seas everything is summoned to this banquet and feast of praise and worship.

The psalmist offers us a truly glorious invitation to join in the festivities surrounding God; we are invited to sing a new song. And the only thing I can muster in reply is: in this economy?! Days in and days out, one foot in front of the other, walking slow and steady through a myriad of troubling and disturbing events marking the land and the world…how can I find language for a new song when I’ve lost the language of the old song? Exhaustion wearies the soul and fatigue wearies the bones. So many of us are fighting our overworked nervous systems and rampant anxiety, we’ve run out of energy to make dinner most nights let alone craft a new song. I don’t want this invitation from the psalmist; I don’t have the stamina for such celebration and festivities. In my heart I decline, No, thank you. In my body, I stay home: turn off the lights and bury myself deep into my comforters and try to sleep. I want silence, darkness, stillness; I want to care less, to be less close to despair, to be numb. Sorry, Psalmist, I cannot sing with you; I cannot sing an old song and definitely not a new song.

Then, in the midst of that stillness, the silence, that darkness, succumbing to heavy sleep a still small voice penetrates through it all: oh, dear one, I was not asking you to sing but to listen to a new song…for you…

Luke 2:1-14(15-20)

Now, Shepherds were in that same land living in the fields and guarding over their flocks keeping night guard. And then an angel of the lord stood by them, and the glory of the lord shone around them, and they were afraid with a great fear. And then the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid! For, Behold!, I proclaim good news to you of great joy that will be for all people: today a savior is begotten for you in the city of David who is Christ the Lord. This is a sign for you, you will find a newborn child having been wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.” And suddenly a great host of angels of heaven appeared with the angel, praising God, and [singing], ‘Glory to God most high and upon earth peace among humanity of [God’s] good pleasure!’”[1]

Luke 2:8-14

Luke begins by telling us a familiar story of Joseph and Mary traveling from Nazareth to Bethlehem to fulfill the demand of a census from Caesar Augustus. We know this story. They are both tired; Mary is very pregnant. They come to the town of David, to Bethlehem, and there’s not one available room for the unwed young couple expecting their first child. Without a room available, the couple finds comfort among animals, straw and hay, and an empty manger. According to Luke, Mary gives birth soon after arriving in the stable.

The birth of the Christ into the world is God coming low to be further in the world. God did not go to palaces and castles; rather God went so low as to be born into meager and rather desperate circumstances. Nothing about Joseph and Mary was particularly unique; they were not married yet, they were not wealthy, they were not royalty, and they were not powerful and privileged. They were simple people in meager circumstances pulling together the bare necessities for their son who was coming into the world, the long promised divine savior of God.[2] I think we forget this part of the story when it’s told year after year; God made God’s self known in flesh, vulnerable and soft flesh, in a stable, in the dirt, among the lowly, among the animals and the poor.

That story is remarkable on its own. But Luke doesn’t stop pressing home his point. The next seen brings us to fields at night and into the world of the shepherds keeping watch over their sheep at night, guarding their flock from predators—both wolves that walked on four legs, and those masquerading as humans walking about on two.[3] These shepherds were downright oppressed under an oppressive regime; this census wasn’t merely about tallying up how many people there were, but, rather, about finding out how much wealth was in the region with an eye to maximize taxes.[4] Thus, this census would create financial havoc for the everyday lives of the shepherds already living (barely) from one day to the next.[5]

So, here they are, the shepherds, cloaked by night and alert for fear of wolves; they are unseen and worried. And then Luke tells us that suddenly! An angel of the lord appeared and brought with them a glory of the lord that engulfed in bright light the field in which they were standing. These humble shepherds froze in fear. But then the angelic visitor spoke, Do not be afraid! For, Behold!, I proclaim to you good news: a savior is begotten for you in the city of David who is Christ the lord! And this announcement wasn’t only a proclamation of good news, but an invitation to come in, come closer, to enter the realm of God’s glory come down low and take hold of the good news. And as if that wasn’t enough, the angel is (suddenly!) accompanied by a great host of heaven who sing to these tired and anxious shepherds,

Glory to God in the highest
and peace upon earth
among humanity of God’s good pleasure!

The whole host of heaven came to these dirty and poor, worried and anxious shepherds dwelling in the dark and on the boarders of despair.[6] Those who were unseen were now seen—seen by the host of heaven. They were drafted into the divine limelight by God[7] to receive the good news and to go. Go and see the savior, the one who will liberate—from sin and oppression[8]—the people, the shepherds, the poor, those meagerly surviving day to day, those shoved off to the fringes of society, those exhausted in soul and fatigued in body, those without a song.

Conclusion

And they went. Luke tells us that as the host of heaven returned to celestial heights, the shepherds, turning one to another, spoke, “Let us go until we reach Bethlehem and see this word that has come into being that the Lord made known to us.” The shepherds dared to go, to obey God, to go into the stable, to see the unwed woman of color who is the mother of God, Jesus the Christ, God come low, Immanuel, God with us. These unknown shepherds were beckoned into the luminescent glory of God and dared to be seen and known by God. They came close, Luke tells us, they found Mary and Joseph, and they saw the infant wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in the manger. Those who were once too dirty to be in God’s presence now not only stood in God’s presence but could reach out and touch God as they were.

Rather than being far off and distant, on Christmas, in the nativity of the Christ, God came low, born a baby, held by the arms of the poor, embraced by the oppressed, surrounded by animals, and resting atop hay, straw, and dirt. God came low on Christmas for no other reason than to bring love and life to God’s beloved, the people of God’s good pleasure, to liberate them from sin and oppression. On Christmas God came low to hang out with those who had lost all their words to give them a new song, to sing over them.

And here we sit, peering over shepherd shoulders, tippy-toe, eager to see the scene displayed before us. We are a part of those gathered to gaze upon the newborn babe, the Christ, and his mother, Mary. We stand among the menagerie of animals; we stand with the humble shepherds finding their words again for the first time. In them we see ourselves. And, in time, as we listen again and again, as we listen anew to this old, old story, we find our words, too—new words, lifegiving words, love filled words, liberating words. This is God for us, heaven singing over us, God come low to be with us, where we are, as weare.

God comes to us to sing over us tonight, amid our darkness, as we try to numb out the chaos and tumult of a world on fire, as we try to forget the pain of our loss and grief (those far off or gone), and as we collapse in our exhaustion and fatigue. Here, we are taken up into that ancient celestial song of ancient days, interrupted long enough to lift our heads and dare to have hope, faith, joy, and peace. Tonight, the Christ is born anew among us, in our heart, for us. Breathe deep, rest, be comforted, and rejoice. Again, I say, Rejoice.

[1] Translation mine unless otherwise noted

[2] Ernesto Cardenal, The Gospel in Solentiname, trans. by, Donald D. Walsh. Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2010. 20. “Rebeca spoke: ‘From the moment of his birth, God chose conditions like the poorest person, didn’t he? I don’t think God wants great banquets or a lot of money…’”

[3] Gonzalez, Luke, 33-34. “Given those circumstances, the setting of the shepherds keeping their flocks at night is much less tranquil and romantic. They live out in the fields, suffer all kinds of deprivations and even dangers, in order to protect their flocks. But the census threatens a new danger, a wolf more dangerous than nay four-legged beast, a wolf that will probably decimate their flocks, and whom they cannot fight, for it is too powerful It is not difficult to imagine what would be the talk of such shepherds as they sought to remain awake through the night…the setting itself was one of fear and oppression.”

[4] Gonzalez, Luke, 33. “A census had sinister implications. It was not just counting people in order to see how many they were, and what population trends were. In ancient times, and long thereafter, a census was in fact an inventory of all the wealth of a region—its people, its animals, and its crops—so that the government would be able to tax people to the maximum. A census usually announced greater poverty and exploitation.”

[5] Justo L. Gonzalez, Luke, Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible Eds Amy Plantinga Pauw and William C. Placher. Louisville: WJK, 2010. 33. “That is not the setting in which Luke presents the story. The setting is rather that of people living under an oppressive regime…As usual, oppression is not a merely political matter, the concern only of those directly involved in politics. It also reaches the everyday lives of people, as is seen in the very fact that Joseph and Mary have to travel to Bethlehem even though she is about to give birth.”

[6] Cardenal, Solentiname, 26. “Felipe: ‘But the angel didn’t go where the kings was but where the poor people were…’”

[7] Gonzalez, Luke, 34. “One of the ways in which the ‘little people’ manage to survive under oppressive regimes is not to call attention to themselves. They seek to go on with their lives unnoticed by the powerful, who could easily crush them. Now these shepherds are literally in the limelight, and an obviously powerful personage confronts them.”

[8] Gonzalez, Luke, 36. “The ‘saviors’ in the Hebrew Scriptures liberate Israel from its political oppressors so that the people may be free to serve and obey God…But the title ‘Savior’ was also used by rulers who claimed special powers over their subjects…Thus when the angel announces Jesus as ‘Savior,’ his declaration has both political and religious overtones. The child who has been born will free the people from bondage—bondage both to their sins and to their oppressors.”

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