Sermons

Christmas Eve, Dec 24 - The Rev. Brian C. Taylor

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Love, Simplicity, and Joy

Tonight we celebrate the birth of Jesus of Nazareth. Whatever else Christmas may mean to us – the spirit of giving, a festival of light and music, the gathering of loved ones – at the heart of it is the birth of Jesus of Nazareth. So for a few minutes here tonight, let’s put aside everything else about Christmas and remember who Jesus is. Let’s also remember the kind of life he calls us to.

I could say many things about Jesus, but tonight I want to talk about just three things that seem central to who he is: love, simplicity, and joy. They occur to me tonight because they’re all right there in the manger scene. The stable in Bethlehem, so familiar to us all, captures something essential about who this Holy Child became as a man. The manger scene is a little tableau, pure and true, revealing the secrets of Christ: love, simplicity, and joy.

First, it is a scene of love. A cold night, a kindly inn-keeper, a warmly-lit stable, adoring shepherds and angels, and peaceful animals. All is calm, all is bright. Sleep in heavenly peace. In the way that is familiar to all parents who have just birthed a baby, Mary and Joseph attend to the infant Jesus with utter devotion, their hearts inexpressibly grateful and open.

Above all, Jesus of Nazareth lived a life of love. But it wasn’t just any kind of love; in fact, it was unlike most of what we think of as love. He loved not just the lovable, not just those who were kind to him, not because he would be loved in return. He loved everyone for no reason at all. He loved the undeserving as much as the deserving. As Jesus said, God makes the sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. Love just poured out of him and was given freely to everyone simply because he had it to give and they needed it.

As followers of Jesus, we Christians are called to some measure of the same kind of love, the kind that is given freely to everyone, for no reason. It is easy to love the lovable, the ones who love us back. But to love as Jesus loved – this is very difficult.

Now this may come as a shock to some of you, but my work environment is not a universally loving place. There are, just like in your work environment, a few unlovable people. I’m not speaking about any of you, of course – just those others. My patience wears pretty thin now and then. On my own, I cannot love as Jesus loved.

The only thing I know to do at those times is to return to my center in God, to go into prayer and offer myself and the other, asking for the grace to love simply because love is needed. Amazingly, I find that my self-concern just melts away. I may not feel warm and fuzzy towards the other; but I am able to treat them with respect, understanding, and care. Surely this is love. It has nothing to do with whether or not it is deserved, it has nothing to do with whether or not it will be returned. It really has nothing to do with me. It just is.

You see, we don’t just have our own personal capacity for love to draw upon. We can step into the field of unconditional divine love at any time. Through prayer, we can draw upon the same source that Jesus drew upon, like a deep well within us, and then let it flow through us to everyone, giving it out for no reason at all. We may not be able to sustain this all the time, but we can draw upon it when we need it. And when we draw upon it, we love just because we have it to give, and because others need it so.

I believe that this particularly Christly form of divine love is possible to extend out into the wider world, too. In fact, it is the only thing that saves us from the vicious cycles of animosity, injustice, and violence. Our modern world is too dangerous a place to withhold understanding and concern until it is deserved. Our world is too volatile to care only for those who benefit us. We must be good to everyone, even to our enemies, simply because it is ours to give and because it is so badly needed. And the more unconditional love we spread among the nations, the more peaceful and harmonious this world will be.

Second, the manger scene is simple, earthy. Mary traveling on a donkey, a dirt floor, a bed of straw, and for company, poor and dirty shepherd boys. This is not a God who comes in regal splendor and power. It is a God who comes as one of the salt of the earth.

As the Holy Child became a man, he chose as his inner circle not the high priests of the temple in Jerusalem or the wealthy power-brokers. He chose fishermen, carpenters, outcasts and children. He lived close to the earth, walking everywhere, sleeping on the ground: For the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head, he said. His family was poor, he ate simple foods and owned nothing.

Jesus of Nazareth asks us to be, as he was, in solidarity with the salt of the earth, and he also calls us to simplicity of life. But this is not easy either, for we live in a world that worships materialism and wealth, and is filled with complication and stress.

And so Jesus invites us to live counter-culturally. He calls us into a rich but simple life that does not depend upon many possessions, that uses our diminishing resources lightly, that delights in the small things. We can look for satisfaction not in the abundance of goods, but the wonder of life. We can slow down, do less, and waste time conscientiously with God, as Thomas Merton described prayer. Consider the lilies of the field, the birds of the air, Jesus said, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. Blessed are the poor, the humble, the salt of the earth, for theirs is the kingdom of God.

Jesus also asks us to live counter-culturally by living in solidarity with those less fortunate – by serve the poor and the abandoned, and to raise them to public awareness: to remind this busy and prosperous world of our mentally-ill and alcoholic brothers and sisters sleeping under bridges tonight; those children whose fathers are in prison; women without education who must work two jobs just to put food on the table; our elders warehoused in nursing homes; those who are close to us who are lonely and in trouble. Jesus asks us to not ignore them, but to serve them as he did. This is part of what it means to be a follower of the simple, poor child of the manger: to live in solidarity with the poor and the abandoned.

Finally, the manger scene speaks to us of joy. Into a dark and sometimes evil world came this astonishing light, angels in the sky singing Glory to God in the highest, and peace on earth to all! We are told by a breathless messenger 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 a Savior. Traveling wise men with beautiful gifts, a miraculous star in the sky, and blissful smiles on the faces of the Holy Family.

Jesus lived in joy. Sometimes we forget this as we think of his self-emptying love, his concern for those who suffer, his own trials. He also lived in joy. He was no grim Puritan, pulling himself up straight and tall and pointing an outraged finger at sinners. Neither was he a bitter social activist, smugly cynical about this corrupt world. He partied; he danced and sang; he held children in his lap and told them stories about abundant feasts; he laughed, he praised God with a grateful heart.

Jesus had a joie de vivre not because he had it easy; not because everything turned out well for him; not because he was prosperous and lived in a fair society; and certainly not because he was naïve. He had a joie de vivre because he risked his trust in the goodness of it all. He believed that no matter what, God was with him and with everyone, infusing the whole creation like a precious spice in a good meal.

When we risk our trust that God is everywhere, then everything - even the bad parts - work together for good. In the midst of our difficulties, God is here, as an energy of goodness that will not be stopped. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness will not overcome it. Jesus burst forth from the tomb, after life had done its worst, and the light shone on.

As followers of this joyful man of Nazareth, we are invited to step into his feast. In order to enjoy this banquet, it doesn’t matter whether things are going well or going badly for you. It doesn’t matter whether you can predict how things will turn out. It doesn’t matter whether you are privileged or disadvantaged, whether you succeed or fail.

What matters is that you risk your heart a little. Open it up. Trust in the goodness of it all; have a little faith. Let yourself be grateful for life itself. Keep a twinkle in your eye and be a little outrageous now and then. Be playfully affectionate with others. Look up at the stars tonight. Feel your breath. Look into the eyes of a stranger in this room and see God. The light is everywhere.

So tonight, hold this manger scene before your mind’s eye. It will tell you what you need to know about this remarkable man, Jesus of Nazareth, whose birth we celebrate tonight. As you follow him, he will lead you into love, simplicity, and joy. And you too will be a light to the world.