From Generation to Generation: We Tell This Story

Nearby shepherds were living in the fields, guarding their sheep at night. The Lord’s angel stood before them, the Lord’s glory shone around them, and they were terrified.

The angel said, “Don’t be afraid! Look! I bring good news to you—wonderful, joyous news for all people. Your savior is born today in David’s city. He is Christ the Lord. This is a sign for you: you will find a newborn baby wrapped snugly and lying in a manger.” Suddenly a great assembly of the heavenly forces was with the angel praising God. They said, “Glory to God in heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors.” --Luke 2:8-14 (CEB)

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God, our Creator, and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

The stories we tell. What are some of the Christmas stories that are told in your family?

In mine, one of those stories goes back to a time when I was seven years old. That year, all my sister and I wanted was an Easy Bake Oven. Remember the Easy Bake Oven? For those of you too young to know, it was this plastic contraption molded to look like an oven. Inside, it had this heat-emitting light bulb that gave off just enough heat so that, using the tiny cake pan and tiny cake mix provided, you could make a cake. It came with 3 or 4 tiny cake mixes. But, you could also by a supplement with another 20 mixes for cakes and brownies. 

That Christmas morning, my sister and brother and I were up early as so many children are - unable to sleep. Anxious to see what Santa had left behind. So, about 4 am, we got up and quietly sneaked to our living room to open our presents left under the tree. Where we found a large box - the Easy Bake Oven! My sister and I were thrilled. The three of us quietly took the oven and all 20 plus mixes downstairs to our basement to try it out. 

Over the next 3 hours, we kept mixing those mixes and pushing the cake pan into and out of the oven. Cake after cake. Brownie after brownie. Feeding my brother who, except for the few my sister and I ate, wolfed down every single one. So that, by the time my parents awoke and came downstairs to find out why it was so quiet, all of the tiny mixes were gone. 

You can imagine their reaction. And that is a story for another time. But, this is one of many stories in my family that we tell each year at this time. I’d dare say that all of us have stories like this. Stories that, especially as we remember them, are those fond stories we tell year after year after year.  

It’s like this story. This story we tell every year. A story of a young couple, traveling on a donkey back to their hometown to comply with a royal decree. The young woman in the last stages of her pregnancy who, nonetheless, must obey that empirical directive, along with her partner to whom she is engaged, where, when they reach their destination, she goes into labor and gives birth to a tiny baby. Who will change the world. 

Amidst all the cultural and commercial stuff of this season, we continue to tell this story. What is it that captivates us so about this story? Why has it been preserved throughout the generations and across cultures? Why is the nativity of Christ so important to us? 

It begins, interestingly, according to Walter Brueggemann, with the song of the angels. A song that breaks into our world and completely shatters the decree of the earthly emperor, who seeks to control by means of a census. This song of the angels stands in direct conflict with that census decree. It announces the birth of a new king - one that neither Rome nor Herod can stop - who begins a new history. A new jubilee that frees all humanity from debt, that gives amnesty from old crimes, and a new beginning again, a beginning that has at its core, freedom. 

The angels break into our world and sing this song to the shepherds, who are the outcasts in their world. They sing their song not just to the shepherds, but to a barren old woman; to an innocent, yet believing young woman; to an old man struck dumb; to a lowly carpenter. All of whom in our world and in the world of their time meant nothing. Were of no importance. Who knew the depths of grief, whether through loss, marginalization, lack of money or power - all of those things that those who are edges of our world experience. It is to them to whom the angels break into with song. And they are amazed. 

Isn’t that what this story is really about? Being amazed. Amazed at how, over and over, this baby in his adult ministry will break down the physical, emotional and psychological narratives that divide people - that divide us. Those narratives we are told in our world about who is clean and who is unclean. Jesus breaks in, just as the angels broke in. And we are amazed. And changed. And restored back into community, given life where none seemed possible before. Offered hope rather than despair. And a future quite different than that offered by royal decree. 

This is why we tell this story. Again and again. It’s to remind ourselves of and to fully embody this story - a story of hope, a story of freedom, a story of love, a story of God coming to be with us. A story you and I are called to pass onto future generations, so that they, too, may experience the hope it brings. A hope given to us by God in Jesus - a God who breaks down the walls of our hearts to show us that there is a better way. A new way. A way of amazement and energy rather than grief and despair. 

And it begins with a baby. As helpless as we are. In need of others, as we are. Who cries out, as we do. And holds hands, as we do. Who experiences the pain and joy and complexity of being human, as we do. Who moves into our neighborhood and promises to accompany us in the journey now. And forever.

Glory to God in the highest. And on earth, peace. Good will toward all. May you hold this sacred story close to your heart. May it give you hope. And, like so many generations before us, may you pass it on. God grant it. Amen.

Preached December 24, 2022, online with Grace & Glory, Prospect, and Third, Louisville.

Nativity of Our Lord - Christmas Eve

Readings: Luke 2:1-20, Micah 5:2-5; John 1:1-14

God's Promise of Jesus: For You and For All People

In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,

“Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them. Luke 2:1-20 (NRSV).

Have you ever noticed that God seems to have a love affair with shepherds?

When God first appeared in a burning bush to call a leader to bring Israel out of bondage and slavery in Egypt, God chose a man living in exile tending sheep.

Moses.

When Israel became a nation and it was time to call a leader to be their king, God chose a young shepherd boy to be anointed.

David.

Even in the time of the prophets, we find Amos. No one of great stature. But a shepherd, whom God called into service.

It was to such people that God first sent the angel to announce the birth of the Messiah. “Shepherds, living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night.”

If your imagination is anything like mine, it has painted this beautiful pastoral scene of shepherds quietly tending their sheep in the hills around Bethlehem. It’s a scene that has been painted for centuries. A scene that we’ve witnessed depicted on many a Christmas card over time.

And, yet, these shepherds of Palestine were anything but quiet and pastoral. Shepherds were considered one of the lowest classes of people. Because of the itinerant nature of their work, they were unable to participate regularly in the religious rituals of their time.

There were discriminating practices against them with respect to the law courts, as a shepherd was not permitted to give testimony. They were considered to be so unscrupulous and so untrustworthy that their testimony was of little value.

They were often involved in violent altercations with villagers as they moved their flocks from place to place. In fact, there is a historical account by Josephus of one shepherd in particular who aspired to be king, and who organized his followers into bands of rebel fighters who, for a period of time, terrorized the entire Judean countryside with their guerilla warfare.

Yet, it was these very people - non-religious, unreliable, violent - it was these very people whom God called to be the first to witness the in-breaking of God’s kingdom into our world. The birth of the Messiah. Of God coming to earth. Or when “visible form kisses infinite light,” as the poet Derek Webster describes it.

It is to this rag-tag, rowdy, bunch of rednecks to whom the angel appears and says, “Do not be afraid,” when, in truth, it’s probably the angel who should be fearful. “Do not be afraid; for see - I am bringing you good news of great joy for all people: to you is born this day…a Savior, the Messiah, the Lord.”

They go, then. Into the village to see this sign. This baby in a manger. This unexpected child whose parents know he is from God, but likely have no real understanding of the ramifications of his birth.

Yet, it is the shepherds who, after witnessing the child, are the first to help them begin to understand. “When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child. And all - meaning only Mary and Joseph - all who heard it were amazed.”

Yes, God has a love affair with shepherds.

Perhaps it is because they are the most unlikely characters to be witnesses to God’s amazing activity in our world.

I wonder if you aren’t a little like the shepherds.

Now, I’m not saying that you’re not religious, or that you’re unreliable or violent. But, I wonder if you, like the shepherds, haven’t been an unexpected witness to God breaking into our world.

Perhaps it’s been at a time when you’ve felt alone. Or when times have been hard. Or when you’ve been anxious about things. Or when you’ve felt tired or beaten down. And it feels as though God has abandoned you. Or you’ve abandoned God.

And, then, something happens. Or someone comes into your life. And, suddenly, you are witness to the in-breaking of God’s kingdom. To God coming to you. Getting your attention. Turning you around. Leading you to the Messiah. Just as God did to the shepherds on that dark night so long ago.

Because, just as God has a love affair with the shepherds, with that rag-tag, rowdy, bunch of rednecks, so, too God has a love affair with us. Because God’s good news - God’s saving story - is not only for the shepherds. But it is for us. And for all people.

May we on this Christmas Eve night, ponder and treasure this good news, just like Mary. And may we leave here tonight sharing it, just like the shepherds did on that night so very long ago. Glorifying and praising God. For everything that we have heard and seen.

Amen.

Preached December 24, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church

Christmas Eve

Readings: Luke 2:1-20