I.N.I.

A Christmas Eve “sermonette” (which is what I was asked to deliver) to be preached at Immanuel Lutheran Church, Mount Vernon, NY, 24 December 2002

Text: St. Luke 2:7,13a “She gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in strips of cloth and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. … Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel praising God.”

Christmas can be a rich time, full of sensory impressions that last a lifetime: the smell of cookies baked only at that time of year, the scent of a pine tree inside the house, the colors, the lights, the sounds of carols. It can, indeed, be a rich time of year. I’d like you to take a few minutes this evening to think about the reason for all this richness, and — in so doing — perhaps enrich your celebration even more.

Someone [Helmut Thielicke] has likened Christmas to a song sung in multiple voices, with high notes and low notes intertwining with each other to produce more than either set of notes could convey on its own. Think of the angels’ songs of praise as the high notes. They’re all sparkle and brightness. They’re celebration and joy. These notes are what make us happy when we hear the song of Christmas. They’re why we look forward to this time of year, this Christmas season which we begin tonight.

Then think of the other notes, the lower notes, sometimes gravelly and rumbling around at the bottom of the scale. Think of the blessed virgin placing her infant son in an animal’s feed trough as representing these low notes. These notes carry the gritty reality of Jesus’ birth to us. These notes tell us of the filth and smells of a stable. These notes remind us that Mary and Joseph were too poor to buy their way past the front desk clerk at the inn. These notes call Mary’s unplanned pregnancy to our attention. These notes are about all the unsavory stories in Jesus’ family tree, and about the difficulties this little family had to face during their slow, uncomfortable trip from Nazareth to Bethlehem and on the trip they soon needed to be off on taking them to Egypt because the political authority wanted their infant son dead.

Most of all, the low notes call to our minds the core reason Jesus was born that night. Why was that again? It was because of all the people on earth, not a single one had been good in God’s sight. It was the result of a constant, inevitable, unending falling away from God’s plans for people. Sin. It was because of sin that Jesus had to come to earth, to be born of Mary, to breathe his first gasp of air in a stinking stable.

Yet when Mary laid him in the manger, the angels sang. They praised God. They glorified God. They went out of their way to make beautiful music. Were they confused? Or did the angels just not see everything that had happened to their Lord?

Or did, perhaps, the angels have perfect eyesight? Did they see the stable and manger, but also see the cross and empty tomb? Did the angels realize, as we can when we look backwards through history, that this humble birth meant that, at last, the human race was going to be redeemed by God? I think they did. The angels knew that from the time of Adam and Eve these humans had been deeply loved by God, yet had driven God up a wall (if we can use that phrase about the Almighty) by rejecting God over and over again.

People must be such frustrating creatures for a God who demands perfection and loves perfectly. And now the angels sang their bright, sparkling notes of praise because God had brought into being a plan designed to give people all over the world and all through time a way back to him. The angels could see past the labor pains. They could see past the crummy accommodations. They could see past the life on the run. They could even see past the eventual suffering and death of the Savior. The angels could see the Easter resurrection. The angels could see that this birth in Bethlehem finally brought humanity the possibility of peace on earth. They could see that it brought humanity the possibility of eternal peace in heaven.

So the angels sang. They praised God. Their high notes combined with the low notes of the reality of the situation for Mary, Joseph, and their little bundle of joy. Their song goes on. It wraps around the world tonight. Their song wraps around each one of us who sit here tonight. The song of the angels wraps around Christians wherever they sit or stand tonight, in churches, and meeting houses, and cathedrals, and jail cells, and hospitals, on the streets and in palaces. Jesus the Savior is born. The Savior is born. The Savior. Yours. Mine. The whole world’s. This world wracked with sin and on the verge of war, this world with all its problems, this world is the world Jesus came to save. There can be joy in this world, real joy, because Christ the Savior is born. Amen.

S.D.G.