redemption rips through the fullness of time
in a cry of a tiny babe
Today we come to the very last moments before the manger
will bear the Living Word, Jesus.
Today we get to hear the last details of those final
precious moments before that fateful birth...
The truth, though, is that I don't really need to work
too hard at commending this story to you, do I?
No, this story needs no cranky pastor exhorting we read,
and take seriously this story.
No, this is a story needs no help captivating our
attention.
Why is that?
Why is this is a story that "sticks in our
craw" as the expression goes?
Why is it is a story that comes to life for us like no
other story?
In fact, it is a story that I find, again and again,
takes little teaching.
I'm always struck how our youth don't need to be taught
how to notice this strange holiness within the story.
This story even manages to fiddle with our all too
ordinary, and busy, days as adults.
For as well as we pretend to know this story, it still
has the power to give us pause, no matter how hectic the calendar is, and make
us look around for the baby Christ being born in our midst, in our mangers.
This is all well and good, it is as it should be.
Frederick Buechner meditates upon the mystery of this
story as so:
"The young couple do all the things you do for
Christmas. They string the lights and hang the ornaments. They supervise the
hanging of stockings. They tuck in children. Make some last arrangements. Just
as they're about to fall exhausted into bed, the husband remembers his
neighbor's sheep(... ) The man asked him to feed them for him while he's away,
and in the press of other matters that night he forgot all about them. So down
the hill he goes through knee-deep snow. He gets two bales of hay from the barn
and carries them out to the shed. There's a forty-watt bulb hanging by its cord
from the low roof, and he lights it. The sheep huddle in the corner watching as
he snaps the bailing twine, shakes the squares of hay apart and starts
scattering it. The come bumbling and shoving to get at it with their foolish,
mild faces, the puffs of their breath showing in the air. He reaches to turn
off the bulb and leave when suddenly he realizes where he is. The winter
darkness. The glimmer of light. The smell of hay and the sound of animals
eating.
Where he is, of course, is the manger.
He only just saw it. He might easily have gone home to
bed never knowing that he had himself just been in the manger. The world is the
manger."
This story needs no help because it is a story that, like
the young man Buechner recalls, comes alive for us all, suddenly and more often
than not unexpectedly.
That, finally, is what Advent has been preparing us
for...
So, in these waning moments of Advent, let us tarry with
this story we just heard in the gospel, lets us dwell on the story so as to be
ready for it to take on bones and flesh in our world, in our lives.
Let us refuse to over-sentimentalize this story, though.
Yes, now of all moments, let us take this story fully
into ourselves to let it come alive and live within us as the Christmas Day
prepares to dawn;
but let us not sentimentalize this story...
Let us refuse to sentimentalize this story, because we
live in decidedly unsentimental times, and it is in our time that we need this
story to be true in;
let us refuse to sentimentalize this story, because,
well, it too is an decidedly unsentimental story.
For instance, consider that dreadful moment when Mary
must have had to say something along the lines of, "Well, Joey, there's something
you should know..."
As Joseph hears these worlds fall from his betrothed
lips, Joseph hears the perfect life, with a dog and a house in the suburbs,
shatter into a million pieces.
See, because unlike Mary; no one has told Joe that Mary
is pregnant, not because she's been unfaithful, but because God is.
So with nothing but an unsentimental reality to comfort
him, Joseph has to try to put back together some semblance of a life.
And apparently all it takes is a dreadful instance for
Joseph to size up the situation.
Tragic as the moment may be and broken as Joseph's heart
may be; there can only be one outcome...
And, by the way, it is more than fair to say that Joseph
must have been heartbroken;
because the only outcome is, obviously, divorce;
the only outcome for Mary will be shame upon her for
whatever life she may have left.
Joseph, however, apparently can't bear to imagine Mary,
to whom he was engaged, going through her days bearing such a mark of shame.
Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Joseph figures the
most merciful thing he can do is dismiss Mary quietly, and then go about trying
to put back together whatever might be left of a life for him...
So it is at this very moment, oh so early in the story of
the incarnation, that the whole divine plan of salvation is threatened to be
wrecked by humans.
It is also, by the way, the beginning of a long
tradition of husbands running around, not knowing what to do, during labor.
There it is, though.
In the unsentimental light of reality there are few
choices for Joseph, and none allow much room for mercy.
Before Joe can follow through on his pathetically
merciful plan, though, night falls upon his dark day.
As Joseph somehow manages to sleep, God intervenes.
To awake Joseph from his living nightmare, God lets the
poor man sleep.
As Joseph sleeps, he dreams;
he dreams a dream that is more real that all those
false choices he's been torn between.
Suddenly, God breaks into Joseph's world, just as God has
broken into Mary's,
by sending an angel to tell Joseph this is all bigger
than he thinks, that God is up to something...
As Bruce Cockburn puts this moment to music in the
brilliant and faithful song, "Cry of a Tiny Babe.'
"God comes to Joseph in a powerful dream, says 'God
did this & you're a part of God's scheme.'"
Now Matthew, the king of understatement simply says,
"When Joseph awoke from his sleep, he did as the angel of The Lord
commanded him."
But I prefer how Bruce goes on in his song to imagine how
the scene may have played out next.
He sings, "Joseph comes to Mary with his hat in his
hand,
says 'forgive me, I thought you'd been with some other
man.'
She says, 'what if I had been, but I wasn't anyway;
and guess what, I felt the baby kick today."
See, while it is safe to say that when Joseph awakes, he does
do as the angel commands; there's more to it.
No longer is Joseph afraid,
no longer afraid to take Mary as his wife,
no longer afraid, period.
When Joseph awakes he finds that his entire world is
changed because fear has been expelled from it.
Suddenly, his tragic situation has been transformed,
suddenly his reality is blossoming with possibilities
he'd never imagine.
No longer does Joseph live in a world where the most
merciful you can be is to quietly dismiss the one you're engaged to,
now Joseph inhabits a world where God shows up,
the kind of world that is bigger than he ever dreamt,
the kind of world that isn't to be feared, but loved,
the kind of world where a cold dark barn suddenly becomes
a manger,
the kind of world where angels do come heralding
good news.
The kind of world, frankly, God is dying to get us to
live into...
See, here's the thing about this story,
and perhaps that is the great miracle of this story,
why this story miraculously comes to life for all of us;
this story, finally, isn't about one girl or guy...
This story is about much more than two people;
this story is about anyone who has found
themselves between a rock and hard place,
that this story is about anyone whose
looked around themselves and wondered how anything good could come of the
situation.
As Cockburn puts it;
"There are others who know about this miracle birth,
the humblest people, catch a glimpse of their worth,
for it isn't to the palace that the Christ-child comes,
but to shepherd and street-people, hookers and bums,
and the message is clear if you have ears to hear,
that forgiveness is given for your guilt and your
fear."
This story is so broad, so big, and so inclusive because,
finally,
this story is about Jesus,
Jesus who will save the people from their sins.
Ultimately what this story is about is God,
God, who is faithful,
God, who will ensure the divine plan to reconcile
us, the creation with the Creator, will not be foiled.
God who will not let this story be foiled,
not let it be foiled by people who are tragically inept
at enacting mercy,
not let it be be foiled by tyrants,
finally, not even let it be foiled by death.
That is the real miracle of this birth,
that God intervenes;
and despite our lack of imagination,
despite our lack of faith,
God remains faithful.
That is the miracle of this story.
That is the miracle that even now, this story can still
come alive in our world,
that is the miracle that after so many years this story
is still told and retold,
that is the miracle that story becomes real again and
again in the midst of or not-so-ordinary lives.
In these final hours of Advent, let us meditate on this
birth, let us fully take in this story,
let us imagine how we'd react,
what we'd do,
how we'd hear the angel.
In other words, in these final moments of Advent, let us
bring our preparations to a close as best we can
because the holy mother is about to give birth,
because things are more than they seem;
because
while you might just be trying to get those final gifts,
you're
likely to find yourself in the manger,
you're
likely to find yourself encountering an angel.
Let us conclude with the chorus to Bruce Cockburn's
wonderful song:
"Like a stone on the surface of the still river,
driving the ripples on forever,
redemption rip through the surface of time,
in the cry of a tiny babe."
Amen
Comments
Post a Comment