As We Are - Celebrate Christ-Mass

A Sermon by Pastor Richard Hergesheimer based on John 1:1-18

Christmas Day, 2011

It's nice, isn't it? The way the church is arranged with the beautiful tree, the Advent wreath and candles, the Christmas paraments and vestments. It's nice, isn't it?

 

I saw a Christmas card not long ago and on the front cover it said: "If Christmas is a time for giving, then I have a problem." And when you opened it up it read, "And my problem is: 'How do you wrap up a heart full of love?'"

 

How have  we wrapped what St. John calls, "the one who is nearest the Father's heart?" – this one who is God's greatest gift to us?

 

Well, this morning we've packaged it in a setting far different from last night's high-energy, almost frantic service. This morning's setting is far more quiet and restrained, a setting more familiar, comfortable, manageable. . . nice.

 

But the One who is portrayed in John's Gospel this morning is not a Jesus who is nice – that is nicely manageable, nicely comfortable, nicely familiar.

 

The One of whom John speaks this morning is the same One the Creed proclaims as: "God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, of one being with the Father through whom all things were made."

 

And when our eyes land on those words, they mystery . . . the cosmic and eternal mystery of it all . . . almost takes our breath away.

 

And we are not the first ones to feel that way.

 

I'm sure that Mary stopped breathing when the angel announced that she would be Theotokos – the Mother of God. I'm sure that Joseph was stunned into breathlessness by the dream he had in which he was told not to abandon his pregnant and apparently unfaithful fiancée but rather take her for his wife and take the baby for his own.I'm sure that the shepherds caught their breath too, when they were awakened by the angelic hosts singing in the middle of the night. I'm sure that Peter gasped when he heard the rooster crow that third time and he started to cry. And I'm sure that the disciples had their breath taken away when Jesus suddenly appeared among them in a locked room three days after they saw him die.

 

The One whose glory and grandeur takes our breath away is the One who is nearest the Father's heart . . . the One who, in breath and in bread, in word and in deed, wraps up and gives away a heart full of love.

 

So, while it is true that what Mary and Joseph and the shepherds saw was just a baby – no halo around his head; no golden sceptre in his hand, no infant sitting upright giving a three-fingered blessing – while it is true that all they saw was a baby, what is also true that what they were missing seeing, at least right then and there . . . was the very heart and presence of the Divine . . . the majesty and magnificence of the Ancient of Days . . . the only-begotten Son of God.

 

And yet all of this "Godness" – this ultimateness and otherness of God – all of this, says John, "Became flesh and dwelt among us."

 

And his "fleshness" was no different than ours, but was the standard, basic, stripped-down version of human nature. . . the kind of human-ness that got him crucified.

 

Oh, people liked him when he played the role of God and supplied wine for their parties, healing for their relatives and sandwiches for their picnics. But what they couldn't stand about him was that he was so human. . . so utterly human.

 

You see, they had ideas about how his divine nature ought to show itself: everything from running out the Romans to climbing down from his cross, but he didn't do any of those things.

He just stayed fleshed – ordinary flesh – just another . . . and so they proved him ordinary for all to see. They nailed his ordinary body to an ordinary cross, to die an ordinary death. And above his head they put a sign which read, "King of the Jews" because anyone and everyone could that this One was not a King of anything.

 

But he was . . . a king, that is. He was the kind of Sovereign that God is – the kind of Ruler who isn't afraid or reluctant to become lowly or humble, who isn't offended by becoming human.

 

You see, John's message today is not only about the Christ who was from the very beginning and through whom all things came into being, but his message is also about the Son of God who doesn't think it is bad or weak or disgusting to be just like we are. . . but who instead, makes fingers and toes, eyes and ears, hearts, livers and lungs the servants of the Divine . . . makes this shell of tissue and sinew and muscle the (are you ready for this?) the temple of the Holy Spirit.

 

We are not the same, you and I, since God became flesh. And neither is anyone nor anything nor everything else. Our bodies – these sacks of worm-food as Luther called them – our bodies are now not something to be demeaned or diminished or denied, but something to be hallowed, blessed and honoured, something precious enough to be raised up on the Last Day.

 

Nor is this earth something to be treated shabbily or shoddily, exploited for our own benefit and comfort. Rather, it is the dwelling place of the Most High and therefore something out of the ordinary. . . something quite extraordinary.

 

And all of this affirmation and reverence for the commonplace and the everyday comes because this One who is closest to the Father's heart was willing to take on flesh and blood and live among us – and is willing to take on flesh and blood again and give himself to us.

 

For in the same miraculous and yet ordinary way he first came, this Pre-existent One, the Source and End of All – this One still comes among us and within us by means of bread and wine. . . allowing his body to be knit together with ours, sending his blood to pump and flow through our veins, making it possible for his life, his power and his destiny to become inextricably linked with ours.

 

And for that reason, it is time to stop talking about the Word that is Christ and begin celebrating the true Christ-Mass – the Meal that is Christ. It is time to feast on the One who, mysteriously and mystically, is both host and food- the One who as host invites us . . . and the One who as food delights us.

 

So come, and by means of the Son who becomes flesh once again, come and know and rest in the heart of God . . . the heart of love. Amen.