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I want to tell you
about the day my brother called me from South Carolina. When I
answered the phone, I could hear the excitement in my brother’s
voice. “Richard,” he said, “I’ve got some good news, and I wanted to
tell you.” At that moment, I already knew it, of course. My nephew
was married a couple years ago. It was time. My brother named his
son and his daughter-in-law. “They’re going to have a baby. Due in
June.” By this time, I was excited. “Great,” I said, “That’s great
news.” When I hung up the phone, I couldn’t wait to tell somebody. I
told my wife. I told my friends, “My nephew is going to be a father.
I’m going to be a great-uncle!” One person barely waited for me to
finish. “My nephew, too.” She said, with pride. Then she showed me
the ultrasound photo on her cell phone: “It’s the baby’s very first
picture.” All this excitement: what’s it about? It’s all about the
baby.
I’ll admit it. My brother’s phone call changed my attitude about
Christmas. For me, this year at least, the point of the story is the
infant in the manger. There’s more to the story, but I’m stuck there
in the stable, hearing anew the verse I’ve listened to so many times
in 60 Christmases: “And she gave birth to her firstborn son and
wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger.” (Luke 2:7,
NRSV) I know it’s a mundane miracle, repeated countless time since
the birth of Jesus. Every birth, including this one, is a
life-changer. We humans all come from the same starting line, we
call it our birthday.
My brother’s phone call rekindled for me the excitement – dare I say
the joy – which a baby brings. In my lifetime, I’ve felt that joy as
a brother, and as a father, and soon – did I tell you? – I’ll be a
great-uncle! I’ve cooed at children and patiently sat through a
grandmother’s first album. I’ve visited friends at home to find a
den newly toddler-proofed and smelling both of baby powder and
something more pungent. In every circumstance, the joy bubbles up:
“I want to tell you about the baby.”
Tonight, let’s not miss the news, as news. This moment is special
because – well – because of a child is born. We gather this night to
hear again the story we already know. Yes, we know the story of this
baby.
Of course we affirm that Jesus was different. Every year we hear the
story again, because well, in our minds and hearts at least, Jesus
was so different in our world. A colleague sent out a Christmas
letter reminding us that the Christmas miracle is different, unique,
transcending the birth of the child. Christmas is not, he said,
“about the birth of a baby.” Rather, wrote my friend quite
eloquently to his congregation, “Christmas is about what happens in
the world when God decides to get personally involved.” (K. Karpen,
“God so loved the world…,” Christmas letter, 2009.)
Theologically, he’s right, of course. It’s NOT about a baby. At
least, it’s not only about this baby’s birth; it’s about his life,
too. We celebrate Christmas, the birth of Jesus, because we believe
that his life, his death, and every moment before and since, God
worked in and through this baby, become a man, become our savior.
Sure. Christmas is meaningful only because of Jesus’ later life, his
teaching, and his passion for all of us. Christmas is meaningful for
lots of reasons other than for the birth of a baby.
Yes, of course. I get all that. Christmas is about God’s love for
us, in the baby. Christmas is about MORE than this baby. But still,
don’t think it’s NOT at all about the baby. The birth of Jesus was a
miracle; I confidently make that assertion because of I am confident
in this as well: every birth is a miracle. Every baby is a life
changer and a life healer. And every Christmas is about the birth of
a baby, but when the baby is in the family, this ordinary miracle is
something to sing about, something to tell people about.
Yes, tonight is about a baby and a birthday. When Mary puts the
child into the manger, watching intently to wonder at his newborn
breath, suddenly visible in the night air; we catch our breath, too.
This is Jesus’ birthday, but it’s a reminder of our birthday, too.
We celebrate for him, and with him, the grand miracle of human life.
And we remember that God makes life holy by giving us all breath.
What is Christmas about? It’s about a baby, who, as babies do,
changes the world. A baby was born for us long ago. He lived for us;
he died for us; he lives for us still. Here he is, a new baby, in
our family. How exciting; how VERY exciting.
I could hardly wait to tell you.
Amen.
Mamaroneck United Methodist, December 24, 2009
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