Rev. Richard Hogue Jr.
Merry Christmas, and nearly Happy New Year! Yes, it’s still Christmas, at least for another five days or so. Do let me know if you find seven swans a-swimming anywhere.
Our gospel this morning is the same one we hear at our Christmas Eve service, as well as on Christmas day. Without context, it can seem a little boring, there’s none of the drama like in Luke’s nativity scene, or the intrigue of Matthew’s star chasing Magi and the underhanded King Herod. But I do love the clear mirroring of the book of Genesis in John’s opening to the gospel. To quote Genesis chapter one directly:
“In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, ‘Let there be light’; and there was light. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.”
John draws directly on the Jewish creation narrative, weaving a universe focused on Jesus, his deeds and teachings, with purpose, light, life, and love. John’s opening is cosmic in scale, yet is also deeply particular in the human sense, being about Jesus the person. Ultimately all four gospels scale goes from the personal to the universal.
We, the church, often emphasize the triumphant Christ. Yet Jesus’s story as the Messiah, the Christ, is one of obscurity, impoverishment, and defeat. A child, conceived within an unwed mother, born homeless in a backwater town, will go on to live life as an itinerant rabbi and die powerless at the hands of the state. Jesus grows up as a member of a militarily occupied people, and empire shaped his life from the day he was born. And yet, the very symbol of dominant power the Romans had, the crucifix, will later be upended and become this child’s symbol.
How else can we explain the importance of this kind of life other than as a pure act of God? And what else could we do but celebrate that pure act of God, lifting the lowliest above the highest? Jesus will upend the course of history, but we risk overlooking the tender realities of his life as a person if we move forward too quickly. God becomes the same stuff as us, experiences the same joys and desolations in life, endures the awkward and anxious, and passes through the mundane. He lives a full life and dies a full death. It is the humility and fierce compassion of Jesus that illuminates a new way for people then and now. This life and light, the substance of the divine and the deeply human, was as raw and hungry and as loving as anyone could be. This is who we celebrate, a life of total commitment to the human condition.
We celebrate that first Christmas, but we can lose sight of what it perpetuates by thinking of it as something that happened two millennia ago, we must celebrate the possibility it represents: Christ could be born again, anywhere, at any time. As the saying goes, every newborn is proof that God is not done with humanity. God blessed the world at the beginning of Creation, and God blesses our experiences through the life of Jesus. Every tear shed, every pain and weakness, every aching wound is experienced with God present. It is good news for the poor and forgotten, the dispossessed and the disenfranchised, the humble and the lowly. It is good news for us to reflect and reconsider our own priorities through the prism of Jesus’s life.
And, most importantly, this blessing is completely out of our control. This is the unquenchable fire that John the Baptizer spoke about, an unquenchable fire of selfless love, poured into a human body. His is a life and light of unquenchable compassion, desirous of unending harmony. God lived it as one of us, so we have access to those same vivacious qualities. It must be understood, that if Christ came into this world among the lowliest, then any of the lowliest and vulnerable, or even the lowliest or vulnerable pieces of our lives may bear the Good News of God today. Perhaps this week a child was born in a parking lot, a prisoner was visited by an angel, or someone had a profound change of heart. Perhaps they will alter the course of history and shape the universe to hold more love and joy. Ultimately, that is what Christmas is about: The light can come from anywhere, or anyone, at any time. It can’t be bottle, it can’t be bought, it can’t be restricted, it can’t be confined, it is simply faithfulness in the face of fear. Mary was faithful, Jesus is faithful, and we can live faithfully with love for all people, everywhere. A life lived with love will always change the shape of the universe, and that is good news.
Amen, and Merry Christmas!
