Father John McGinn, Rector

Saint John’s Episcopal Church

Sandwich, Massachusetts

 

December 24, 2006                                    Christmas Eve

 

 

 

I was waiting in line at the East Sandwich Post Office and only one clerk was working at the counter.  The line was moving slowly, and the man in front of me began to fill out a check.

He was hoping to the speed things up.  Unsure of the date, he turned and asked me.  “It is the 21st,” I replied.  Before he could write the date in, a man from the back of the line cautioned, “Oh, I wouldn’t write the date in just yet.”

(Laughter)

 

It is late!

 

Maybe you have had a similar experience at the post office or elsewhere this Christmas season.  Many of us are breathing a sigh of relief, “Christmas is here.”  There is no story more loved than this.

 

 In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the whole Roman Empire.  This was the first census that had been taken since  Cyrinious was governor of Syria.  Everyone went to his own town to register, so Joseph went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Bethlehem in the town of David, because he belonged to the house of David. 

 

He went there with Mary who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child.  While they were there the time came for the baby to be born.  She gave birth to her first born son and wrapped him in swaddling clothing because there was no room for then in the inn.  There were shepherds in the fields nearby keeping watch over the flocks.  An angel appeared to them "and the glory of the lord shone around them and they were terrified.  The angel said to them, ‘do not be afraid.  I bring good news of great joy that will be for all the people.  Today in David there has been born a savior unto you.  He is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you.  There will be a baby in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.  And suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared praising God, and saying’ Glory  to God in the highest and peace among those he favors.’”

 

This simple story contains so much.  And for many centuries it has been preached and talked about, but I think in it we see God humbling himself on our behalf.  It is amusing.  Measly humans puff themselves up to more than they are, but God who is the creator of the universe humbled himself for you and me.

 

I was reading Charles Seymour, sixth Duke of Somerset.  Charles lived at the turn of the 18th century.  He was such a snob; he refused to even speak with his servants.  He communicated with them through sign language.  He also had a number of houses built throughout his property so when he traveled he would not have to be near common folk at the inns. 

 

If you contrast Charles Seymour’s approach to life with that of God, see god in the person of adult Jesus ministering to lepers and sinners. See him reach out to the blind, deaf and the physically challenged.  Humans can be snobs, but not God.  God’s love will not allow him to stand off at a distance.   God came into the world as a babe in Bethlehem, and in the Christmas story we see God humble himself on our behalf.

 

In the story from Luke, we see a young couple devoted to one another.  Christmas is a family celebration.  It was from a very beginning.  Joseph hears the angels’ voices and knew he could trust Mary.  She was devoted to him and he to her.  They devoted themselves to taking care of the baby she was carrying.  Christmas is not only the story of God’s love, but also of human love. 

 

Did you know the most popular American song ever written is Irving Berlin’s White Christmas? It is a simple tune, most of you know it by heart, but I won’t sing it…I’d love to, but…

 

“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas, just like the ones I used to know.”

 

Berlin wrote the song in 1941 and in many ways it became the theme song for soldiers stationed away from home over the holidays.  White Christmas captured powerfully their longing and yearning for home. I will never forget my uncle was away from his home for four years, and four Christmases. 

 

In 1971 I was in the Republic of South Vietnam and on that Christmas day, Bob Hope the entertainer and Jim Nabors the entertainer, and Ann Margaret the entertainer, came to entertain us at the base in South Vietnam.  There were 50,000 of us.  I was 10,000 miles away from my home, my newborn son, my wife of only a few years and my family and friends.  All of us that day were devastated about not being home for Christmas.  Those were the most beautiful words imaginable, “Home for Christmas.”  We were bound together in that awful place, in spite of our predicament by an overwhelming hunger for home.  The heart does yearn for home at Christmas.

 

Christmas is a family celebration.  We have a God who humbles himself and a young couple who cling to one another as they await the birth of their son.  We have the shepherds, at the earlier service; we had about twenty of them.  We had sixty children in the pageant this year.  What would the Christmas story be without the shepherds?  Probably millions of men’s bathrobes over the centuries have been used to dramatize the guests at the first Christmas.  The shepherds represent the least and the lowest in society.  Their social status was nil.  That is an important point.  We have a responsibility to the least and the lowest in our society.

 

I read a story about a family who went to a restaurant one evening and encountered a very awkward circumstance.  It is a beautiful story.

 

We were the only family in the restaurant with children.

 I sat my infant son, Eric, in a high chair and noticed every-

one else was eating quietly.  Suddenly Eric squealed with

glee and said “Hi, there!”  He pounded his fat baby hands

on the tray his yes were wide with excitement and his face

was bared in a toothless grin.  He wiggled and giggled in

merriment.  I looked around and found the source of his

excitement; it was a man with a tattered coat.  Dirty and

greasy, his baggy pants had a zipper at half mast and his

toes poked out of his shoes.  His shirt was dirty, his hair

was uncombed and he was unwashed.  We were too far from

him to smell, but I was sure that he smelled.  His hands

waved on loose wrists.  “Hi, there baby, Hi, there big boy.

I see you!” said the man.  My husband and I exchanged

looks, but what could we do.  Eric continued to laugh and

answer “Hi, there!”  Everyone in the restaurant looked at us

and then at the man, an old geezer was creating a nuisance

with a baby.  Our meal came and the old man shouted “Do

 you know patty-cake? Do you know Peek-a-boo?”  No one

thought the old man was cute, he was obviously drunk.  My

husband and I were embarrassed, we ate in silence.  All except

for Eric who was running through his repertoire for the skid

row bum, who in turn reciprocate with his own comments.

We finally got through the meal and my husband went to pay

the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot.  The old

man was between me and the door.  “Lord, please let me out

of here before he speaks to me or Eric” I prayed.  As I drew

closer, I turned to shield Eric, but he leaned over my arm and

reached with both arms in a baby’s ‘pick-up’ position.  Before

 I could stop him Eric had propelled himself from me to the man,

and a smelly old man and a baby consummated their relationship. 

Eric in a gesture of total trust and love laid his tiny head upon the

man’s shoulder.  The man’s eyes closed  and I saw tears under his

lashes. His aged hands gently cradled my baby and stroked his

back.  No two beings  have ever loved so deeply for so short a

time.  I stood awestruck.  The old man rocked and cradled Eric in

his arms for a moment, and then his eyes opened and fixed

on mine.  He said in a firm commanding voice, “You take

 care of this baby.”  Somehow I managed “I will.”  He pried Eric

from his chest and the man said “God bless you, Ma’am. You have

given me my Christmas gift.”  I said nothing more than a muttered

“Thanks.”  With Eric in my arms I ran for the car, and my husband

wondered why I was crying and holding Eric so tightly and saying

“God, forgive me.”  I  had just witnessed complete and unconditional

love shown through e innocence of a child who saw no sin and made

 no judgment.  A child who saw a soul.  I was a Christian  who was

blind, holding a child who was not.  I felt that it was God asking if

I was willing to share my son for a moment.  God had shared his for

all eternity.  This ragged old man had reminded me that to enter the

kingdom of heaven, we must be as little children.

 

 God who humbles, a young couple who clings to one another, a mottled group of smelly shepherds, all this and more.  Angels who sing from the heavens, wise men who come from afar and a babe in a manger where animals normally ate.  What more could we ask of a story?  Not a thing.

 

It reminds us that in the shallowness of the materialism of a world that is longing for peace are those things that really matter.  God, family, a responsibility for others.  Christmas.  Can any word be more beautiful than that one? Christmas: a celebration of love. AMEN

 

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