University Presbyterian Church - Chapel Hill, NC

Video | Download Video
Audio Player Below | Download Audio

 a sermon preached by Anna Pinckney Straight

Isaiah 9: 2 - 7

2 The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness-- on them light has shined. 3 You have multiplied the nation, you have increased its joy; they rejoice before you as with joy at the harvest, as people exult when dividing plunder. 4 For the yoke of their burden, and the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor, you have broken as on the day of Midian. 5 For all the boots of the tramping warriors and all the garments rolled in blood shall be burned as fuel for the fire. 6 For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. 7 His authority shall grow continually, and there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom. He will establish and uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time onward and forevermore. The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this.

Luke 2: 1 - 20

1 In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2 This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3 All went to their own towns to be registered. 4 Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. 5 He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. 6 While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. 7 And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

8 In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9 Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10 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: 11 to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. 12 This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger." 13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, 14 "Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!" 15 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." 16 So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. 17 When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; 18 and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. 19 But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. 20 The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.

It wouldn't be the last time Jesus brought together an eclectic, unlikely group of people.  It wouldn't be the last time, but it was the first time. 

A pregnant woman with a man who is, according the Luke, not yet her husband.

Shepherds, shepherding being a job the vast majority of people considered to be beneath them.

The innkeeper, a property owner, who possessed the animals which require the stable he shared. 

Inn guests, who had money, had arrived earlier, and who were sleeping more comfortably.

Angels, the heavenly host.

And then later, wise men from the east (Matthew 2).

An unlikely gathering, to say the least.

And I wonder about their conversation....  After the story had been told by the shepherds a few times.  After some time had passed.  After the quiet.  The hush...

After they'd been standing there for a while, I imagine, conversation-making kind of questions had started to appear.

Maybe the inn keeper asked a shepherd:

"What's the price of wool these days?  How have things been out in the fields?" 

Maybe a shepherd asked one of the guests of the inn:

"When did you get to Bethlehem?  Who are your people?"

And in the way these things happen, when their time with the Holy Family was over, they would have left that Bethlehem Inn knowing a little bit more about each other.  A little bit more about who they were, understanding a little bit better what makes them the same instead of just why they were different.  Why they were there, and how God needs all of them out in the world.

It's something Jesus would do time and time again in his life here on earth, gathering unusual groups of people. 

He had the disciples mingling with a woman at a well (John 4).

He celebrated with a wedding party (John 2).

A guest in the home of Zacchaeus, a tax collector and known cheat (Luke 19).

Jesus called laborers as disciples (Matthew 4, Mark 1).

He healed the servant of a Roman centurion (Matthew 8, Luke 7).

Taught the leaders of the temple while still a young man (Luke 2).

Jesus refused to condemn the woman caught in adultery (John 8).

And I cannot help but think, help but hope, that behind the action of each of these encounters reported in the gospels, there was more of that every-day conversation between the participants and the followers of Jesus.  A little more conversation and honesty, that left each of the participants and the followers who were with Jesus, a little bit changed.  A little bit more understanding of how they were the same across class, nationality, gender, race....

As we sang at the 4:00 service today...

Royalty and shepherds came

To worship from afar,

Guided through the long cold night

By one persistent star.

As each beheld the Son,

Strangers became as one...[1],

A wise old rabbi once asked his students, "When can you truly say that it is morning, and no longer night?"  One student replied, "When I can tell a goat from a donkey."  "No," answered the rabbi, "not then." Another said, "When I can tell a palm tree from a fig."  "No, not then, either," replied the rabbi.  "When, then?" his students implored.  And the rabbi replied, "Only when you look into the face of every man and every woman and every child and see your brother and your sister.  Only then have you seen the light.  All else is still darkness."

Jesus gathered people together to see, to see themselves as brother and sister, beloved children of God.

And Jesus does the same thing, still.

Christians, Muslims, and Jews who gather regularly in Durham to talk about the faithful response to hunger and need.

Haitian orphans and American neurosurgeons fed from the same loaf of bread around a communion table, accepting God's invitation to gather at table.

A venture Capitalist stopping on his way into the post office to talk with, to listen to, a resident of Occupy Chapel Hill.

How do these things happen?  It would be folly to think that it is somehow the strength of humanity.  Of individual good will.  I believe it is the power of God.  The will of Jesus Christ, who took on flesh and lived in our midst to teach us, to call us, to work for the Kingdom of God, together.

"Only when you look into the face of every man and every woman and every child and see your brother and your sister.  Only then have you seen the light."

Last year, NPR's Christmas special included some contributions from the National Story Project, included this account from Sylvia Seymour Akin of something that happened to her family on Christmas, 1949.

Sylvia said[2]:

A light drizzle was falling as my sister Jill and I ran out of the Methodist Church, eager to get home and play with the presents that Santa had left for us and our baby sister, Sharon. Across the street from the church was a ...gas station where the Greyhound bus stopped. It was closed for Christmas, but I noticed a family standing outside the locked door, huddled under the narrow overhang in an attempt to keep dry....

Once we got home, there was barely time to enjoy our presents. We had to go off to our grandparents' house for our annual Christmas dinner. As we drove down the highway through town, I noticed that the family was still there, standing outside the closed gas station. ....

Suddenly, my father U-turned in the middle of the road and said, "I can't stand it!.....   those people back there at the Pan Am [station], standing in the rain. They've got children. It's Christmas. I can't stand it." 

When my father pulled into the service station, I saw that there were five of them: the parents and three children -- two girls and a small boy. 

My father rolled down his window. "Merry Christmas," he said. ....

...."You waiting on the bus?" my father asked. 

The man said that they were. They were going to Birmingham, where he had a brother and prospects of a job. 

"Well, that bus isn't going to come along for several hours, and you're getting wet standing here. Winborn's just a couple miles up the road. They've got a shed with a cover there, and some benches," my father said. "Why don't y'all get in the car and I'll run you up there." 

The man thought about it for a moment, and then he beckoned to his family. They climbed into the car. They had no luggage, only the clothes they were wearing. 

Once they settled in, my father looked back over his shoulder and asked the children if Santa had found them yet. Three glum faces mutely gave him his answer. 

"Well, I didn't think so," my father said, winking at my mother, "because when I saw Santa this morning, he told me that he was having trouble finding y'all, and he asked me if he could leave your toys at my house. We'll just go get them before I take you to the bus stop." 

All at once, the three children's faces lit up, and they began to bounce around in the back seat, laughing and chattering. 

When we got out of the car at our house, the three children ran through the front door and straight to the toys that were spread out under our Christmas tree. One of the girls spied Jill's doll and immediately hugged it.... I remember that the little boy grabbed Sharon's ball. And the other girl picked up something of mine.....

.....Back in the car... my father asked the man if he had money for bus fare. 

His brother had sent tickets, the man said. 

My father reached into his pocket and pulled out two dollars, which was all he had left until his next payday. He pressed the money into the man's hand. The man tried to give it back, but my father insisted. "It'll be late when you get to Birmingham, and these children will be hungry before then. Take it. I've been broke before, and I know what it's like when you can't feed your family."

We left them there at the bus stop in Winborn. As we drove away, I watched out the window as long as I could, looking back at the little girl hugging her new doll ...

....That was the Christmas when my sisters and I learned the joy of making others happy. 

 Friends, that's what Jesus does.  Teaches us to give.  Not our extras, but our everything.  And to see it not as a sacrifice, but a privilege.  Because that's what Jesus did.  Gave everything.

And here's the other thing.  That's only the beginning.  Jesus not only helps us to open our arms and share what we have, Jesus leads us to ask: Why there is hunger?  Why is there need?  How can we end war?  How part can we play in welcoming the Kingdom of God, where there is no more "crying.... and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away (Revelation 21:4)." 

That's what Jesus does.  That's where Jesus will lead us, if we follow.  If we are open to it.

And maybe that's the trickiest part.  Learning that we aren't the givers in the story.  We are the needy recipients who are starving for God's abundant and encompassing grace, and having received it, are then invited to live as Christ did, to love one another as Christ loved us....

Will Willimon writes[3]:

It's tough to be on the receiving end of love, God's or anybody else's. It requires that we see our lives not as our possessions, but as gifts....

This is often the way God loves us: with gifts we thought we didn't need, which transform us into people we don't necessarily want to be. With our advanced degrees, armies, government programs, material comforts, and self-fulfillment techniques, we assume that religion is about giving a little, of our power in order to confirm to ourselves that we are indeed as self-sufficient as we claim.

 Then this stranger comes to us, blesses us with a gift, and calls us to see ourselves as we are -- empty-handed recipients of a gracious God who, rather than leave us to our own devices, gave us a baby."

We may know where this road will take us, to Jerusalem, to a cross and an empty tomb, but we also know that to get there we have to start here.  At a manger.  With an unlikely group of people. You.  We.  Us.   Grieving, worrying, celebrating, discouraged, hoping, remembering, scared, anticipating, weary, wired, and everything in-between. We get there, by starting here.

We are all here, where we are supposed to be, adoring this newborn child.  Thanking God for the privilege of being invited on this journey. 

Maybe, hopefully, we're a little bit like that first unlikely gathering, who, if we pay attention, will leave this place different that when we arrived.  Maybe it will be the words of one of the carols.  Maybe it will be the Holy Spirit that finds you in a prayer.  Or maybe the casual conversation with a stranger who turns out to be a brother or a sister. 

So...  Come let us adore him, brothers and sisters.  Come let us adore him.  Christ the Lord.

Amen.

[1] "In Bethlehem a Babe was Born," Presbyterian Hymnal #34, by Barbara Hays.  Tune: Discovery.

[2]National Story Project with Paul Auster

December 24, 2000 -- Paul Auster reads two stories of special Christmases past, submitted by Sylvia Seymour Akin of Memphis, Tennessee, and Don Graves of Anchorage, Alaska. 

 http://www.npr.org/programs/watc/storyproject/2000/001203.story.html

Retrieved 12.24.2010.

[3] Christian Century, December 21-28, 1988, p. 1173.