Sermons Archive

Christmas Eve
The Rev. Janice Robinson
December 24, 2007

“But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.” (Luke 2.19)

The excitement in the air is usually palpable on this most holy night. The time of waiting is over. There is a touch of sadness too, that this time of preparation is complete. Yet we wait, pregnant with expectation for that first sign of life that cry made at the first intake of breath. It is as if all life is held in suspended animation until that cry breaks the still air. The long awaited One comes full of the human stuff like you and me, as well as the stuff of the holy One who sent him.

Weary from the long journey, hungry and feeling the shifts in her body, knowing her time had come, Mary joins her pleas with those of her fiancé, Joseph for a clean place to give birth to this new life she had nurtured for so long. Like you and I when we have nurtured the new life of a baby, or an idea, or a plan, and it is about to come to fruition. There is excitement and a little anxiety. When it is complete, the joy is almost indescribable.

The stillness of that night was broken with the cosmic changes that accompanied this baby’s birth, angelic figures appearing to shepherds, to announce its arrival. A star, larger and brighter than any other, led wise folks to his birthplace as surely as if they had had their own GPS working. The veil separating heaven and earth was lifted for a moment, and past, present, and future were all one for an instant. Life was never the same.

In addition to waiting for the birth of this child, some of us are also waiting to open the brightly wrapped packages under the tree. For some you are excited about awaking to the nativity scene in your own home, celebrating this first Christmas with the new life that has come to you. While for still others there is that stocking that will remain folded in its place among the decorations for it is no longer needed, like the empty favorite chair in which no one now sits. In quiet moments, the memories of past Christmases come flooding back, forming a lump in your throat. And, there are still others for whom I know, the pain and the worry of the present threaten to rob you of the joy of this night.

Some are experiencing the excitement of having the house full again with children and grandchildren, which feels like the best gift you could have received. Even as all of these things are true, there are some who have looked in at others celebrations from the outside for a long time, and wondered if they will ever be able to look at such celebrations from the inside. Home for some seems elusive, now here, now there. Where is home? Tonight, gathered together here, this is home, and we are awaiting that long hoped for cry of life.

There is something that is transformative about the birth of a child, whether to you or to someone you know. Life becomes divided into time before the baby came, and time after the baby came. We can’t stop looking and touching the infant, thinking about their future; wanting to know who they are, and who they will become. Mary I’m sure was no different, “But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.” Like Mary many of you still ruminate about things said about your children when they were born, the hopes wished for them, the worries expressed about them, the dreams you hold for their future.

There is a song that in some ways sums up the mixed joy of giving birth. It goes like this:

Your children are not your children. They come through you, but they are not from you. They are the sons and daughters of life longing for itself. Although they are with you, they belong not to you. You can give them your love, but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts. You can house their bodies, but not their souls, for their souls dwell in a place of tomorrow which you can not visit, not even in your dreams. You can strive to be like them, but you can not make them just like you.

Mary knew this, even before Jesus was born. Remember the announcement from Gabriel, “He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end…the child to be born will be holy; he will be called he Son of God.” What could she make of that? What do we make of that? She had no understanding. All of this was reinforced by the shepherds’ report of the angelic proclamation. Whatever she may have wanted for Jesus, she had no control over what he became, or how he lived, or what the future held for him. She was powerless to make the future what she wanted for him.

We want only the best for our children, yet none of us can predict the future, nor can we live our children’s lives. We can only do the best we can to give them a sound foundation, a deep sense that they are loved, and the knowledge that they have something to contribute to this world. We may or may not see it, or in some cases, sadly won’t recognize the role they have come to play. Each of us has, or will experience the worries of watching over our children, wondering what will become of them, be they biological, or adopted, or our pets, or simply those claimed by us and who claim us. Will they be great? Will they be hurt and will they hurt others? Will they be betrayed, and will they betray others, their values? Will they be loving towards others, and will they be loved? We want to guarantee a future, a good one where all is well, but we can‘t.

Jesus was all of the things that the angel Gabriel foretold, yet the pain it caused him was enormous. But, through his labor pains he struggled to bring forth new life, a new people who would live into the fullness of who they could be, and who they were created to be. He did things differently than his peers, and he suffered for it, yet he could not not have done, what he came to do. These great things said about her son, became arrows that pierced Mary’s heart.

Jesus was not her child. He came through her, but was not from her. He was with her, but belonged not to her. She gave him her love, but not her thoughts, as he had his own thoughts. She housed his body, but she could not house his soul, for his soul dwelled in a place of tomorrow which she could not visit in this life, not even in her dreams. She could strive to be like him, but she could not make him just like her.

Like Jesus, our children are gifts given to us, but they don‘t really belong to us. They belong to themselves, for they are God’s gift to themselves. We are entrusted with their care and nurture, their learning, and support of them in their dreaming and creating of their own lives and futures; futures which we can not visit, even in our dreams.

The radical freedom God has provided to each of us to love our Creator, or not; to seek out our Creator or not, to create new life, new dreams, new possibilities, or not, makes this holy night pregnant with hope; a hope we share here in our communal home, as well as in the homes to which we will return this night. It is a hope we hold for all God’s children all over the world, as we seek out and work for a justice that provides peace for all and not just for some. A peace that brings a joy that resounds throughout the world and echoes in our souls this holy night.

Amen!