12/24/2024 – 12/25/2024 ~ Nativity of the Christ – Proper I ~ Christmas Eve ~ Isaiah 9:2-7; Psalm 96; Titus 2:11-14 ; Luke 2:1-14, (15-20); Proper II ~ Christmas Morning ~ Isaiah 62:6-12; Psalm 97; Titus 3:4-7; Luke 2:(1-7), 8-20; Proper III ~ Christmas Mid-Day ~ Isaiah 52:7-10; Psalm 98; Hebrews 1:1-4, (5-12); John 1:1-14 ~ VIDEO OF FULL SERVICE: https://vimeo.com/showcase/7960701/video/1042946860

The Child

“While they were there, the time came for her to deliver. And she gave birth to her firstborn, whom she wrapped in bands of cloth and laid in a manger, a feeding trough for cattle, because there was no place for them in the inn.” — Luke 2:6-7

The child lay against her breast. Blessed sleep had finally arrived. The child was quiet now. She could feel the steady tempo of slumber in the warmth of the breath against her skin.

It had been a long night, and the dawn was not far off. Colic in an infant is never fun. This night the malady was complicated by the surroundings. The stable was not the best place for her and the infant. She knew it. But for now, at least, there was some shelter, when before there had been none.

For several nights circumstances she detested dictated that they stayed in a stable, a barn. And it got very cold. But the hay stored there made for good insulation.

Her husband had taken it from the loft so it was clean, then piled it high, spread it out and this night together with the newborn child huddled in her arms, they burrowed into it. Just that little bit of extra insulation provided sufficient warmth to make it all through the night.

Her husband was a good man. He was not wealthy, not handsome, not well spoken. In fact, he spoke very little. But she knew his soul.

When she looked into his eyes, she could see a man who knew God, who cared about relationship, understood that relationship with God came before all. She could see a man who understood all relationships were based on one’s relationship with God. She knew he cared about her, cared about the child.

Even though he was so often silent, he seemed to be able to communicate with her on a plane which precluded verbiage. He had always been good to her. She hoped the child would learn from this example. Example was the chief way any person learned about life, wasn’t it?

She hoped for so much in the life of this child. Despite their poverty, or perhaps because of it, none of what she hoped for had to do with worldly possessions.

Primarily, she hoped the child would be a kind person. But she also hoped the child would understand, if only for reasons of self protection, that the world was not always a safe place.

She had known people to be cruel and seemed to often be cruel just for the perverse enjoyment of it. She hoped the child would see in life, in this time, something of God’s light, God’s love. She hoped the child would see these things even though this world so often appeared to be devoid of light, devoid of love.

At times she was convinced this was too great a wish for which to ask. After all, she had already seen more than she wanted to see of the occupying Roman army. They seemed to not care, to treat everyone as an annoyance, to be used then tossed aside.

She had also seen more than she wanted to see of local government lackeys making sure that they were first in line for any largess which might be available from the Romans. That people could be so mercenary was unnerving.

Whenever her thinking got too caught up in these realities, a ray of hope somehow seemed to appear: a friend giving advice, a shopkeeper who was helpful. In those moments she understood not everyone looked out just for themselves. There were people who did seem to make a positive difference in this world.

The child stirred, made a noise, stretched out a hand, and rested again. She knew in her heart that this child had already made the positive difference for her. She could see in this child all the brightness of God’s creation, full blown in the little hands and feet, in the dark rings of hair on the tiny head, in the bright eyes which searched deeply into hers. Searched for what? Searched for hope? For support? For love? For relationship?

For some inexplicable reason, she could see in this child all the warmth and promise of the relationship she knew God had promised, to which God was committed in the covenants, in the Torah. For some inexplicable reason, she could see in this child all the warmth and promise of the relationship she knew God was always seeking in this world which was so broken.

For some inexplicable reason, what she could see in this child was the warmth and promise of a God at work in the world and present in people. Was it this way with every child? Could this be seen in each baby? Or was this child… special?

She dismissed this thought. “All mothers think their child is special,” she assured herself. She reasoned, in a self-effacing way that God would not single her out or her husband or this child for anything special. (Slight pause.)

She heard a cock crow. The first streaks of light were washing into the yard. God’s life giving light was dawning on the new day.

With this noise the child stirred again, but again rested on her breast. “No,” she thought. “I have seen much. I will see more. But, no. I am not that special that God might choose me… for…”

She did not finish the thought, overwhelmed by the possibility that in this child she felt she felt she could see the dawn of a new era in God’s work, overwhelmed by the reality that that God’s work is always focused on the continuing work of relationship.

And she had no doubt that the continuing work of relationship was really nothing special. After all, relationship is a normal, daily, everyday occurrence because it was the place to which God invited all people.

And she knew the place God was calling her was to relationship. Was it not? So this… this place, this time… this child… was nothing special. Was it? Amen.

Elijah Kellogg Church, Harpswell, Maine
12/24/2024

ENDPIECE: It is the practice of the Pastor to speak after the Closing Hymn, but before the Response and Benediction. This is a précis of what was said: “We live in a very secular world. Hence, I try to avoid wishing people a ‘Merry Christmas.’ That’s a secular term. At Easter we Christians say Christ is risen. So if somebody says‘Merry Christmas,’ to me I say ‘Christ is with us.’ That is the real Christian sentiment of Christmas, the sentiment expressed in the Feast of the Incarnation— Christ is with us.”

BENEDICTION: Let us be present to one another as we go from this place for the peace, the presence of God is with us. Let us go in hope for God reveals to us, daily, that we are a part of God’s new creation. Let us go in joy for God knows every fiber of our being. Let us go in love, for we rest assured, by Christ, Jesus, Whose birth we celebrate is a light to the world that God, Who is steadfast, has shared with us. Amen.