I preached for the late service on Christmas Eve, and since most of the crowd hadn't been to the earlier service with its Christmas Pageant, I decided to dress up like some of the players in the nativity story and think about how the experience might have felt from their perspective...
In the Jewish tradition, a new day does not begin with the rising of the sun, as we have come to understand it. Instead, a new day begins with the setting of the sun the day before. Even through the dark and silence of the night, the new day ripens and readies itself. It is already there, waiting to break full and perfect into the light. And that is exactly where we find ourselves tonight in the Nativity story.
***
(Dressed as Mary)
When that angel appeared, I felt such joy and assurance – somehow in the presence of that light and holiness I thought I was up to this, but after the angel was gone I kept wondering why God chose me for this. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to pick someone older, stronger, smarter, and holier to be the mother of the Son of God?
Then we had such a long journey, Joseph and I. A week of walking and bouncing on that poor donkey on those rocky, dusty roads while heavy with child. I was so ready to get to Bethlehem and find some nice warm inn where I could put my feet up and finally get some rest. But then – poor Joseph – we must have knocked on every door in Bethlehem. He said he’s never seen so many people in this place. Somehow he wrangled us this stable for shelter. I know it sounds strange, but somehow I don’t mind being here, outside the noise and movement. It’s not home, but at least it feels safe.
Once we got settled – as settled as we could, anyway, I started to get scared about giving birth. At home, I’d be surrounded by my mother, friends, a midwife, and my cousin Elizabeth who just had her baby. Here there’s only Joseph, who normally wouldn’t be part of it at all.
But it’s funny how all those details I was so worried about just slipped away when it was time for this beautiful boy to come. Joseph was wonderful - so gentle and loving. He must have so many questions about me and this child, but he hasn’t said a word. He is quiet and yet so strong. And this baby, my amazing little Jesus. He’s perfect, even wrapped in this rough cloth instead of the soft blankets I would have for him at home. I already love him so much, and yet somehow I feel like he isn’t mine to hold onto too tightly.
(Dressed as Joseph)
It felt so strange to return to this place after not having been here for decades. As we journeyed here I kept thinking about what I would say if I ran into someone I used to know – how would I explain this wife and this baby. Would I pretend like everything was normal, like he was my child? Or talk about that dream of mine that was so strange and confusing? That dream that I believed just enough to take Mary as my wife, but not enough to really trust her.
But now I understand. Being with this child somehow it’s obvious that he’s intended for great things. And Mary, my Mary, who I used to think was so young and fragile. Now I see how much strength she has. First our long journey and then the painful childbirth with only me to help her. I used to think by taking a wife I’d have someone to take care of me; now I just hope that somehow I can take care of her. That I can help her hold onto her wonder and her trust in the world. And that I can protect this child from the world’s grasp.
(Dressed as Innkeeper)
I’m not a bad person, really I’m not. Running this inn just keeps me so busy, I can’t even stop and think. It’s a hard life – cooking and cleaning all day and then after a few hours sleep waking up to do it all again. And add to that these soldiers with muddy boots who trounce in like they own the place with no intention of paying for their stay. But I can’t complain about the Emperor’s order that everyone be registered – this town has never been so bustling.
And now my wife keeps hassling me about that couple I sent away; she says she’s heard talk that the baby born to them might be the Messiah. That seems pretty unlikely to me. God wouldn’t choose such simple people to be parents to the Messiah. And besides, what else could I have done? The few free rooms I had, I needed to save for customers that could pay better. Plus, that woman looked like she might have her baby any moment. I couldn’t deal with that on top of everything else. Anyway, I’m sure they felt more comfortable out in that stable they found to stay in.
And yet, have you ever had one of those moments that you know as soon as it’s over you’ll regret for the rest of your life? I feel like sending that couple away might have been one of those moments. I feel like I might have missed something really important.
(Dressed as Shepherd)
It’s hard to believe that it was just a few hours ago when all this started. I started out just like I do every other night – cold and hungry and bored. Trying to keep my eyes open for something that might come and snatch away these sheep and make me lose my wages. And then I remember looking out into that deep sky and seeing it for the first time. Somehow the darkness was full of light, the emptiness was suddenly alive and moving, the silence was full of meaning. And I wasn’t the only one to feel it either. The message, the call to get on our feet and go down the hill into town. I didn’t understand what I thought I’d seen, wasn’t sure I believed it, and yet I ran, we all did – we couldn’t get to that stable fast enough. We couldn’t figure out why the angels would bring us such a wonderful message – good news, great joy!
I don’t think any of us expected what we saw; how could we have? I’d never put much stock in the Messiah thing – I always figured he’d be one of them – too fancy and important to bother with us, just like everyone else. But here he was, born in this stable that was as natural a place to be for me as out in the open air. I felt right at home – he’s like one of us.
(Dressed as Angel)
What a night! These humans have no idea how lucky they are to have the Holy of Holies come among them. They don’t have a clue that this is just the wonderful beginning – that it changes everything for them, forever. I have to admit, I still don’t really understand why the Blessed One is doing it, why the Lord of Lords is coming to such a low place. A few do seem to recognize him. But they only call attention to the throngs out there that can’t be bothered to put down their ale glasses and come to pay him homage. It’s funny how some people look right past us in that same way. They explain away the light and the glory and ignore our good news. And yet, the King of Kings says that’s exactly why He is here. That some day they will all see and understand and love.
(Dressed as Magi)
I still can’t explain why we are taking this journey. There is this star – brighter than any we’ve seen or heard of – there, look for yourselves. We’ve studied the predictions and knew this must be the light foretold by our ancestors. And I can’t explain it, but it just wasn’t enough to know the birth was coming. We weren’t fooling ourselves; we all knew we’d be in for a long expedition, but we wanted to behold the child for ourselves.
Somehow we all know that this birth is what all time will be measured against. Everything that happened before this child will always be before. And everything that happens afterwards will forever be after.
***
And where do they all go from here? Mary, Joseph, the innkeeper, the shepherds, the magi. They are now people living ordinary lives in light of the extraordinary news of the gospel. Mostly they go back to where they started, but hopefully they are forever changed.
Mary and Joseph will eventually end up back in Nazareth with this new baby. In time they will find a way to talk about everything that has happened to them. They will learn, humbly, how to be parents to this child that they don’t understand.
The innkeeper will go back to his busy life, trying to please harried guests and somehow keep the place running. Perhaps he’ll go on feeling guilty for not having offered more to this child, or maybe for the first time he’ll know himself to be forgiven and understood.
The shepherds will return to their fields, to their dirty, hard work of finding food and protecting their animals. What they have seen is everything, and yet back to the drudgery they must go, finding whatever way they can to make meaning from it.
The magi will finally reach the child and pay homage. Probably once they meet him the gifts they’ve brought will feel meaningless and foolish. Perhaps they will foresee the hardship and death ahead for Jesus. And then they will return to their homeland. What will they tell the people back in their land? Who will possibly believe that a child born so rudely could amount to anything?
Even the angels return to their former posts changed. Their hosannas have new fervor now. Their good news is even better than before.
We too, here tonight, are lucky enough to be living in the eternal now of God’s coming among us. The one who came in Jesus, in a way so unlike our other experiences, still comes to us. This is our Bethlehem – the place where we have brought the hopes and fears of all our years to lay in front of a manger. This Church is the stable where we can embrace the child in swaddling clothes, a place where we have come from far and wide to gaze upon this gift from God. Tonight God is making God’s home in our arms. Where will we go from here? Amen.
In the Jewish tradition, a new day does not begin with the rising of the sun, as we have come to understand it. Instead, a new day begins with the setting of the sun the day before. Even through the dark and silence of the night, the new day ripens and readies itself. It is already there, waiting to break full and perfect into the light. And that is exactly where we find ourselves tonight in the Nativity story.
***
(Dressed as Mary)
When that angel appeared, I felt such joy and assurance – somehow in the presence of that light and holiness I thought I was up to this, but after the angel was gone I kept wondering why God chose me for this. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to pick someone older, stronger, smarter, and holier to be the mother of the Son of God?
Then we had such a long journey, Joseph and I. A week of walking and bouncing on that poor donkey on those rocky, dusty roads while heavy with child. I was so ready to get to Bethlehem and find some nice warm inn where I could put my feet up and finally get some rest. But then – poor Joseph – we must have knocked on every door in Bethlehem. He said he’s never seen so many people in this place. Somehow he wrangled us this stable for shelter. I know it sounds strange, but somehow I don’t mind being here, outside the noise and movement. It’s not home, but at least it feels safe.
Once we got settled – as settled as we could, anyway, I started to get scared about giving birth. At home, I’d be surrounded by my mother, friends, a midwife, and my cousin Elizabeth who just had her baby. Here there’s only Joseph, who normally wouldn’t be part of it at all.
But it’s funny how all those details I was so worried about just slipped away when it was time for this beautiful boy to come. Joseph was wonderful - so gentle and loving. He must have so many questions about me and this child, but he hasn’t said a word. He is quiet and yet so strong. And this baby, my amazing little Jesus. He’s perfect, even wrapped in this rough cloth instead of the soft blankets I would have for him at home. I already love him so much, and yet somehow I feel like he isn’t mine to hold onto too tightly.
(Dressed as Joseph)
It felt so strange to return to this place after not having been here for decades. As we journeyed here I kept thinking about what I would say if I ran into someone I used to know – how would I explain this wife and this baby. Would I pretend like everything was normal, like he was my child? Or talk about that dream of mine that was so strange and confusing? That dream that I believed just enough to take Mary as my wife, but not enough to really trust her.
But now I understand. Being with this child somehow it’s obvious that he’s intended for great things. And Mary, my Mary, who I used to think was so young and fragile. Now I see how much strength she has. First our long journey and then the painful childbirth with only me to help her. I used to think by taking a wife I’d have someone to take care of me; now I just hope that somehow I can take care of her. That I can help her hold onto her wonder and her trust in the world. And that I can protect this child from the world’s grasp.
(Dressed as Innkeeper)
I’m not a bad person, really I’m not. Running this inn just keeps me so busy, I can’t even stop and think. It’s a hard life – cooking and cleaning all day and then after a few hours sleep waking up to do it all again. And add to that these soldiers with muddy boots who trounce in like they own the place with no intention of paying for their stay. But I can’t complain about the Emperor’s order that everyone be registered – this town has never been so bustling.
And now my wife keeps hassling me about that couple I sent away; she says she’s heard talk that the baby born to them might be the Messiah. That seems pretty unlikely to me. God wouldn’t choose such simple people to be parents to the Messiah. And besides, what else could I have done? The few free rooms I had, I needed to save for customers that could pay better. Plus, that woman looked like she might have her baby any moment. I couldn’t deal with that on top of everything else. Anyway, I’m sure they felt more comfortable out in that stable they found to stay in.
And yet, have you ever had one of those moments that you know as soon as it’s over you’ll regret for the rest of your life? I feel like sending that couple away might have been one of those moments. I feel like I might have missed something really important.
(Dressed as Shepherd)
It’s hard to believe that it was just a few hours ago when all this started. I started out just like I do every other night – cold and hungry and bored. Trying to keep my eyes open for something that might come and snatch away these sheep and make me lose my wages. And then I remember looking out into that deep sky and seeing it for the first time. Somehow the darkness was full of light, the emptiness was suddenly alive and moving, the silence was full of meaning. And I wasn’t the only one to feel it either. The message, the call to get on our feet and go down the hill into town. I didn’t understand what I thought I’d seen, wasn’t sure I believed it, and yet I ran, we all did – we couldn’t get to that stable fast enough. We couldn’t figure out why the angels would bring us such a wonderful message – good news, great joy!
I don’t think any of us expected what we saw; how could we have? I’d never put much stock in the Messiah thing – I always figured he’d be one of them – too fancy and important to bother with us, just like everyone else. But here he was, born in this stable that was as natural a place to be for me as out in the open air. I felt right at home – he’s like one of us.
(Dressed as Angel)
What a night! These humans have no idea how lucky they are to have the Holy of Holies come among them. They don’t have a clue that this is just the wonderful beginning – that it changes everything for them, forever. I have to admit, I still don’t really understand why the Blessed One is doing it, why the Lord of Lords is coming to such a low place. A few do seem to recognize him. But they only call attention to the throngs out there that can’t be bothered to put down their ale glasses and come to pay him homage. It’s funny how some people look right past us in that same way. They explain away the light and the glory and ignore our good news. And yet, the King of Kings says that’s exactly why He is here. That some day they will all see and understand and love.
(Dressed as Magi)
I still can’t explain why we are taking this journey. There is this star – brighter than any we’ve seen or heard of – there, look for yourselves. We’ve studied the predictions and knew this must be the light foretold by our ancestors. And I can’t explain it, but it just wasn’t enough to know the birth was coming. We weren’t fooling ourselves; we all knew we’d be in for a long expedition, but we wanted to behold the child for ourselves.
Somehow we all know that this birth is what all time will be measured against. Everything that happened before this child will always be before. And everything that happens afterwards will forever be after.
***
And where do they all go from here? Mary, Joseph, the innkeeper, the shepherds, the magi. They are now people living ordinary lives in light of the extraordinary news of the gospel. Mostly they go back to where they started, but hopefully they are forever changed.
Mary and Joseph will eventually end up back in Nazareth with this new baby. In time they will find a way to talk about everything that has happened to them. They will learn, humbly, how to be parents to this child that they don’t understand.
The innkeeper will go back to his busy life, trying to please harried guests and somehow keep the place running. Perhaps he’ll go on feeling guilty for not having offered more to this child, or maybe for the first time he’ll know himself to be forgiven and understood.
The shepherds will return to their fields, to their dirty, hard work of finding food and protecting their animals. What they have seen is everything, and yet back to the drudgery they must go, finding whatever way they can to make meaning from it.
The magi will finally reach the child and pay homage. Probably once they meet him the gifts they’ve brought will feel meaningless and foolish. Perhaps they will foresee the hardship and death ahead for Jesus. And then they will return to their homeland. What will they tell the people back in their land? Who will possibly believe that a child born so rudely could amount to anything?
Even the angels return to their former posts changed. Their hosannas have new fervor now. Their good news is even better than before.
We too, here tonight, are lucky enough to be living in the eternal now of God’s coming among us. The one who came in Jesus, in a way so unlike our other experiences, still comes to us. This is our Bethlehem – the place where we have brought the hopes and fears of all our years to lay in front of a manger. This Church is the stable where we can embrace the child in swaddling clothes, a place where we have come from far and wide to gaze upon this gift from God. Tonight God is making God’s home in our arms. Where will we go from here? Amen.
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