December 25,  2008 The Feast of the Nativity of Our Lord Jesus Christ also called Christmas Day Year B Isaiah 9:2-7 Psalm 96 Titus 2:11-14 Luke 2:1-14(15-20) Click here for sermons from previous weeks The Rev. Virginia W. Nagel Ephphatha Parish of the Deaf Episcopal Diocese of Central NY There are a few times a year when I, and I suppose most other preachers, wonder why I am trying to preach a sermon. Those special times, it seems to me that the Bible readings say it all, and there is little left for a preacher to add. Christmas, of course, is one of them, with the sublime reading from Luke...who or what can anyone add to that? However, the Prayer Book says a sermon is to be preached on Sundays and Holy Days, so I will share with you a few thoughts of my own, and let you mull them over and put them together in your own mind and heart as you see fit. It seems to me that the readings about Jesus' birth, both the prophecies spoken years before the event, and the story of the birth itself, gave his mother Mary, his foster father Joseph, and the people who lived at that time, a kind of agenda for his life and his purposes. The reading from Isaiah speaks of the people who have lived in darkness, unenlightened by knowledge of the Prophets' proclamations, sitting there miserable in their lack of any hope for their lives, or for their future life after death. Most of them were oppressed...as Isaiah says, bearing a heavy bar across their shoulders, enduring the hurt of the iron rod of oppression and poverty and lack of hope. Sometimes this hopelessness and oppression were caused by their own sin, and sometimes by the greed of neighboring countries who sent out armies to defeat and pillage. But, whichever way it happened, it left people hopeless, oppressed, poor, with no pride in themselves or their country. These were the people to whom Jesus was specifically sent...those who had no hope for themselves, no authority, no way to make their life better. And so Isaiah speaks of a child who will be born, a son who will be given to them as a gift, who will have all authority to make things better, and to bring peace, not only to the country but to the hearts and minds of the people. Then, think of the birth narrative itself. We all know the story well, perhaps too well, because we tend to listen to the familiar words without really thinking about them. Perhaps at the most we allow our minds to draw imaginary pictures of how it must have been, or remember the images on Christmas cards. But we seldom listen to, or look at, the reality of that birth story. Here is a young woman, perhaps about 14 or 15. She has become pregnant by miraculous means, before being married. No big deal nowadays, perhaps, but at that time and that place, she risked the death penalty at worst, or a quiet divorce at best, with difficulty in ever finding another marriage with a decent man. Certainly she had to put up with her parents' scoldings about bringing shame upon the family, and with the nasty gossip among the women at the well in the small town of Nazareth. Then, just before the time she expected to give birth, she and her soon-to-be husband Joseph, had to set off on a long hike, probably around 85 miles, from Nazareth to Bethlehem. they'd have to go through mountainous country where robbers hid alongside the road, so they probably travelled with a group. All the pictures show Mary on a donkey with Joseph walking alongside, but in that culture, if they could afford a donkey at all, the man rode and the woman walked. There were no hotels, just your own blanket roll on the rocky ground. There were no convenience markets, just the dried meat and fish and stale bread you'd brought from home and carried, along with the precious water jugs or skins. This young girl, then, felt the first pains of labor as they drew near to Bethlehem on the third or fourth day of walking. We do not hear that she had her mother or aunt or sister with her to assist at the birth, and Joseph had trouble finding a place to stay...or at least a place he could afford where they could stay. And the inns of that period did not have private rooms and baths. They gave you a place in the courtyard, a small space marked off by lines on the walls or the floor where you could safely unroll your blankets, a well in the middle of the court where everybody could draw water, a privy off in a corner that was anything but private, and dozens of interested spectators watching whatever was going on at the moment. It must have seemed a blessing to Mary that Joseph was finally offered the privacy of a stable, perhaps with the help of the innkeeper's wife for the actual birth, and a soft heap of straw on which they could spread their blankets. But that privacy was only semi-privacy, for soon after the baby was born came a troop of dirty, smelly shepherds, bringing along their dogs and some lambs. They had this tale of an angel, then a whole group of angels, and a bright light in the sky. The young mother, exhausted from the birth, could not sleep just yet. She must be the gracious hostess, listen to their stories, allow them to see her newborn son, and finally, when they left, praising God at the top of their voices, sinking gratefully into the straw, falling asleep as the singing and shouting died out. And so we have a pattern or agenda for Jesus' ministry: to help the poor and oppressed, give hope to those who had no hope, a sense of self to those who never thought of themselves as "real people"; consideration for women, whom most men at that time treated like animals or slaves; care for the hungry, the poor, the homeless, those without the means or the power to provide for themselves; and an insistence that God cared about and wanted to help all people, even the "unclean" shepherds, sleeping in the fields among the sheep, whom the Temple leaders would not permit to come into the Temple to worship, because they could not pray at the proper times and wash their hands and feet the prescribed number of times each day. And so we take time, today, to hear the story of the birth of the Wonderful Counselor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace, who cares about unmarried mothers, about people living in oppression, about the poor and the homeless and the helpless and most especially about those who have lost the ability to help themselves at all. In a few short weeks we will hear Jesus reading from this same prophet Isaiah in the synagogue in Nazareth: The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring Good News to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives, and the recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor. By our Baptismal vow to follow Christ as our Lord and Savior, we have also taken that agenda for ourselves. The reality, not the pretty pictures, but the real-life work Jesus came to do. Jesus, of course, carried it even further than we possibly can: because he is God the Son, he died on the cross, offering redemption and forgiveness to all who believe in him. We cannot do that, because we are not God. But we can and must proclaim it to all who will listen. That is what we are celebrating, this and every Christ-Mass. Amen. Back To Top Home