Welcome, friends,
guests, neighbors, family, people of peace and goodwill. You have come here tonight to worship Jesus,
to hear the story again, to sing the carols, to join in fellowship around the
one table, to pray for peace during a time of war, violence, and suffering; you
have come here to participate in this annual pilgrimage from your home and
streets and neighborhood to the manger, to the little town of Bethlehem, to the
site of a holy birth, to the surrounding hills and valleys where sheep graze
and shepherds watch and angels sing. You
have come to be transported to another place and time. And though we cannot physically go there
tonight, the words we hear and sing move us there in our minds and hearts. Perhaps because you are in need of some
nostalgia or an escape from the real world.
Perhaps your soul hungers and your heart grieves. Perhaps you are
weighed by the heaviness of recent world events, elections, attacks, overt public
acts of discrimination and hate. You are
concerned about places like Aleppo, Syria or Afghanistan or Cairo, or Chicago
or Berlin. Places where people live and
suffer unjustly, live with perpetual war or fear of violence. Perhaps you are work weary or fighting
illness or grieving a loss. Maybe you are eager to feel the presence of God or
taste the goodness of the Lord. Maybe
you just love this night. The anticipation of the children. The beauty and majesty of candlelight and
silent night. Maybe you are here by
invitation or obligation. Someone else
wanted you or needed you here. So here
you are. We welcome you here. There is a place for you, wherever you are in
your life circumstances. We only ask
that you be present with us in the activity, the work of worship. Your presence is appreciated. Thank you for coming. There is always room here for you.
There was no room for
them in the inn, Luke said. Internally
displaced by the occupying governments of imperial Rome, because emperors like
to register religious groups as a form of intimidation and social control, they
traveled 100 miles on foot from Nazareth to Bethlehem---a hard journey. A system of oppression was in place that
forced the young couple to travel far from their village and family. Forced to deliver her baby in a distant town,
they will be forced to flee to another country to avoid violent persecution by
their own governing rulers. This new
family will become refugees, until a change in government allows them to return
to their home town of Nazareth. These
people experience rejection, homelessness, and internal displacement. As do an unprecedented number of people in
the world today. Some 60 million people
are displaced. 1 in 100 people on the planet. 60 % of all Syrians have been forced from
their homes. They experience what Mary
and Joseph and Jesus did; no room in the inn. It is to an inhospitable world that he
comes. According to Luke, there was no
room in the kataluma, or guest room.
Many homes had a guest room, prepared for travelers to rest. Customary hospitality would have prohibited
the residents, likely Joseph’s extended family, from turning them away,
especially because she was in labor, even if the guest room was already
occupied. Instead, they would’ve made
space for them with the animals on the side of the house. Sort of like the garage, connected to the
main quarters of the home. Family
members, villagers, animals, and shepherds would have surrounded the very
public birth. It was not a private, silent
night in a solitary cattle shed in a field.
It was downtown Bethlehem, during a time of forced migration. Jesus is born under these circumstances,
received by strangers and extended family. When we welcome the displaced, the
refugee, the single mother and child, those experiencing poverty and systemic
injustice, we welcome Jesus.
We have heard so much
bad news, so much fake news, so little good news that we find it hard to
believe. Don’t we? This year has left many of us feeling
anxious, afraid, and disturbed by what we have seen and heard on the news. So, listen to the angels and sing what they
sang. For to you has been born on this day in the city of David, a savior, who
is Christ the Lord. So many of us see
the need for a savior, a rescuing helper, a divine intervention in the world’s
crises. We have seen refugees drown and
children die in war. We have seen
shooting violence and racism; heard of islamophobia and the denigration of
immigrants. Dehumanizing. Cruel.
Sad. We may feel powerless,
defeated by forces of injustice and evil.
We see the widening gulf between the rich and the poor. This ugliness on the news leaves us jaded and
cynical. Can anything get better? Can anyone help? Angels says, to you is born a savior. While emperors threaten and power is displayed
through violence, peace maintained through war---a prince of peace is born to
peasants in an ancient Palestinian village.
He comes to save us from our sins, from our worst selves. More than ever the world needs angels,
messengers of good news to announce a savior’s birth and a promise of peace and
goodwill toward all humankind. We are
invited to join the angels and the shepherds, and tell others the good news of
what God has done. If we don’t the world
will not know it. Perhaps nothing gets
better, as long as we remain silent. As
you go home tonight, ponder these things in your heart. His birth says that God comes to us. God abides with us. God seeks us.
God comes near. God is
present. In space and time. Present to us.
Far from home, he comes
to dwell among people and animals. This
is the good news. Received, but not
welcomed. He comes to this world beset
by violence, forced migration and displacement.
According to the story, Jesus is God with us, God in the flesh dwelling
among us. No doubt you are making room
for guests this weekend as extended family gather to celebrate. If you must travel and become a guest,
remember the story. If you receive guests, may your hospitality be received
with gratitude. And may you be blessed
by your guests, as if the holy family were present. May the presence of the
savior be made known to you in the breaking of the bread. Bethlehem literally means house of flesh or
house of bread and reminds us that wherever the bread is broken and eaten,
Jesus is present to save. May you
experience his loving presence in this place and in all the places you find
yourselves this holy season. Amen.
