Sermon for Christmas Eve - Luke 2:1-20

As we come to the end of 2020, it’s worth taking a moment to marvel at all of the new words we added to our vocabulary this year. Last December, could you have imagined using words like social distancing and Zoom on a regular basis? Or quarantining, pods, contract tracing, P.P.E., and my personal favorite, doomscrolling? Extra points should be awarded for use of the words hydroxychloroquine and Blursday. We’ve also learned to talk about the complexities of herd immunity, mask mandates, systemic racism, and how divided we have become. What a year it has been in words. 

There’s another word that people have started to use recently, one that points to better days ahead. That word is vaccine. Seeing photos of front line medical workers getting their coronavirus vaccine has been such a bright spot in the news cycle. And tonight, kids all over the world are relieved because Santa got his vaccine from Dr. Fauci in time for Christmas. Some words bring great hope to young and old alike. 

But given that most of our new words capture how hard this year has been, Christmas seems rather strange this time around. I don’t think it feels the same for anyone. I was driving the other day and thought the Christmas music on the radio sounded a bit more wistful than usual. Favorite holiday recipes won’t taste the same without family and friends around the table. And strangely, have you noticed that even without holiday parties to attend or over-full schedules this year, Christmas still feels stressful somehow? If you’re having a hard time squaring all the new 2020 words with what is supposed to be the most wonderful time of year, you’re not alone. 

And yet, whatever new words we bring to this particular celebration of Christmas, we get to hear much older words tonight. Holy words, hopeful words. Words like behold, good tidings, glory, savior, joy. Christmas words are the best words.

Of course, those words were not trending in Bethlehem at the time of the first Christmas. The popular words that year were probably ones like census, Rome, taxes, and oppression. Those are the words that sent Mary and Joseph traveling at the worst possible time. Because of those words, they had to throw out whatever birth plan they had, and make do as best they could. Those words prompted a makeshift bed of hay for a new baby. It’s safe to say that the words of the day were troubled ones, like our words are now. But it’s also safe to say that the word joy was in the mix, too. A new baby can shift one’s perspective, even in the most difficult of circumstances. 

The shepherds were also on the move that first night, because of words. They heard a most surprising word from an angel, who said to them, behold. “Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.” I’m not sure which was more surprising, that an angel spoke to them, or the specific instructions that were given. For all the heavenly fanfare, the angel told them to go see something fairly common — a new baby. The angel, however, said that this baby is something more. He is a sign. That word sign changes everything. A baby, visited by some shepherds, is now an unmistakable, impossible-to-miss message. The savior has come. Heaven has come to earth. The word of God has become flesh, and you’ll know it’s true because you can see a real-life baby swaddled and sleeping in the manger. As heavenly signs go, this one is absolute perfection in its clarity. 

For me, tonight, there is another word that stands out in the Christmas story. It’s the word manger. I’ve always just chalked it up to a quaint detail, well-suited for a nativity scene, complete with cows or camels looking on serenely while the baby sleeps. But if you remember high school French, the word manger, spelled the same as manger, is the word for eat. Mary places her baby in a feeding trough, which, if you think about it, is the most extraordinary symbol. The baby, when he grows into a man, will say the words, “Take, eat, this is my body.” Jesus will break bread with friends, and enemies, he will feed thousands at a time, and he will be known to us, too, in the breaking of the bread (Amy Jill Levine). Those clear signs of a God who loves us are hard to miss. Jesus is our communion, our comfort, and the bread of life for weary and worried souls. To use a few Christmas words, he is God-with-Us, Emmanuel. Christmas words really are the best words. 

If you could use some Christmas words tonight, take as many as you need. Our strange new vocabulary of 2020 could certainly use them. And Christmas has the best ones - behold, good tidings, glory, savior, joy. There’s plenty to go around. And remember that Christmas words have always been spoken in uncertain times, whether on that first holy night in Bethlehem or now. It’s in that kind of uncertainty that Christmas words are the most powerful. They can change how we see things. When an angel says behold, a baby becomes the Word made flesh. When we are afraid and we hear behold, the world becomes a more hopeful, God-infused place. When we despair and we hear behold, joy is within reach again. 

So tonight, join with the shepherds and listen for the angel’s most surprising word. Behold, there are good tidings of great joy. See the baby in the manger and you will see Emmanuel, God-With-Us, God’s communion with us all. Behold, my friends, and marvel at what God can do with words. Merry Christmas.