“The Birth of Hope”

A sermon preached by the Rev. Douglas M. Donley

Christmas Eve Lessons and Carols Service 2005

University Baptist Church

Minneapolis, MN

 

            How does a preacher say something meaningful on a night like tonight?  The story really tells itself.  We have seen it and heard it and sung it.  The culmination of long season of waiting finally ends this evening.  It symbolizes the end of Mary’s nine months of pregnancy. 

From the suspect conception announced by the angel Gabriel; to her first trimester with her kinswoman Elisabeth who taught her wisdom and helped her to find her voice; to the audacious revolutionary song she sang about what this child might symbolize for her and for all who might come into contact with him or his message; to the labor she endured as Joseph’s family in his hometown rejected the family and left her to go through labor in a stable, this long journey tonight takes a new form.

            Finally, Jesus is born—Emanuel—God-with-us.  And yet the culmination of the pregnancy means that the whole world will be different.  It certainly would be for Mary and Joseph as they initially were ministered to by animals, shepherds and Magi, but soon they were fleeing for their lives into Egypt because the King didn’t like the subversive message of this child.  He didn’t like that it was taking root among people.  He didn’t like that it might threaten his own known world.  So it is with saviors and kings.

And yet, for this brief moment, there was relief.  For this brief moment there was holiness and rest and comfort and joy in that stable. 

If you have ever gazed upon a newborn, there is something that gives even the most jaded of us pause.  It is the wonder in the eyes.  It is the reminder that a child like this has not been taught yet how to hate, how to judge, how to mistrust, how to exclude, how to want more stuff than his or her neighbor.  A newborn needs comfort, love, security, food and warmth.  And the miracle is that the child brings out the best in us. 

Around a newborn, we don’t raise our voices.  We refrain from violence.  We obsessively wash our hands.  We take great care for what goes into their bodies and even marvel at what comes out of their bodies.

            Imagine treating each other with as much care as we offer to a new-born.  What might our world, look like if we committed ourselves to this kind of life for all of us, even for the ones who are going to be reborn today.

            Some environmentalist friends from Oregon gave the following sentiment at the end of their annual three-page Christmas tome: “Despite the actions of corrupt politicians and corporate executives, there’s a collective American spirit that tunes in to human beings in need, whether for street directions or for shelter after disaster.  Sadly, we’ve had to tap into this compassion far too often in 2005.  But compassion is, mercifully, an ever-renewing resource, and we have blessings aplenty to sustain renewal.”

            Sisters and brothers, may you give birth to hope on Christmas.  May it be your ultimate Christian subversive act.  May you hold that tender hope and coo it to sleep.  And tomorrow as it awakens it might be a bit stronger, needing that much more nourishment, that much more attention.  For a young child demands constant attention. 

In the end, we parents know that our children teach us how we want to be.  They remind us of the mistakes we have made and continue to make and eventually, they show us the very face of God.

            You, like Mary and Joseph before you, you hold this child in your arms tonight.  Jesus, very God of very God is born and looks to you who knows so much for the direction of life and faith.  Together, you are hope.  Together we tap that ever-renewing resource of compassion.  May we hold our world, our families, our friends and even our foes in our gentle caring arms like a good caregiver.  Jesus, Emmanuel, God-with-us wants that from us tonight and every day.  If we can do that, then we can bring birth to hope, just as God has done the same on Christmas Eve.