It’s been a strange year. It’s surreal to stand here and think back to last year, how this pandemic was nowhere on our radar, how we had our chili cookoff and decorated the Christmas tree, how the tree fell over during the decorating and how we vacuumed up a thousand pieces of 2 broken ornaments, how the preschoolers dressed in costumes and sang Go Tell It on the Mountain, how we gathered and lit candles and sang Silent Night and wondered what the new year would bring.
Tonight we celebrate our Savior Jesus, coming as a baby,
taking on limits to become human, and more than that, a human baby, helpless,
entirely dependent. Christ always has existed
since before the creation of the universe.
Christ was there, the Word moving over the waters and bringing into
being the sun, moon, and stars, the planets, the earth, the waters, and all
creation, plants, animals, insects, everything.
Christ’s Spirit, the spirit of the anointed one, has been with the
people over the ages, calling on prophets, inspiring stragglers, leading people
through difficult times, creating new life and hope and new possibilities.
This same Christ came to Earth, the Son of God. He didn’t have anything. He didn’t have a title or office, like Caesar
Augustus. Caesar Augustus had been
claiming to be divine and backing it up with armies and money and power and
control. Here comes the Christ Child, in
contrast, the one who created everything, coming to earth, everything belonging
to him, yet nothing in his possession or control. The Christ child took on limits—the limits of
a teenage mother. These are not
experienced parents, prepared to raise a child, let alone the Son of God. They are all going to be registered, counted,
so that their value to the Empire can be assessed, so that they can be
squeezed, utilized, oppressed. He’s not
born in a palace in a crib approved by the Consumer Product Safety
Commission. He doesn’t have pajamas with
feet that look like animals. No birth
announcement is sent out. He’s
completely helpless, dependent on others, vulnerable to diseases, vulnerable to
jealousy from Herod. The Christ went
from overseeing ongoing creation, to being part of creation, subject to
gravity, hunger, and dependence.
In other years we have cultivated a
feeling of a lack of limitation. We
could order almost anything we wanted with a couple of clicks of a button. We could fly anywhere in the world, almost. We could communicate with almost anyone,
anywhere in the world. We could eat
foods prepared by others, delicacies and treats, with fancy, expensive
ingredients. We could have almost
anything we wanted. We could do almost
anything we wanted.
Then the limits started coming. We could still do a lot, but we had to start
weighing whether it was worth it, to be exposed to this disease, to possibly
carry it to people we love. Some limits
have been imposed on us and others we have taken on ourselves, with the
information we have, to keep ourselves and others safe. It hasn’t been easy. Each family or person decides and everyone
has a different view of what is safe for them and sometimes we get angry with
each other for taking more or less limits than we would.
The Shepherds knew about limits. The first ones that the angels announce the birth
of the Christ to is the shepherds. These
are not important people. They are in
charge of very vulnerable and very limited creatures, sheep. That the angels would announce to shepherds is
a signal that the Christ is coming to shepherd the people, which we could see
as an insult, but we could also see as an affirmation of our limitedness, and
that we aren’t alone in our limitedness.
We have one to look out for us that we can trust, Jesus. These shepherds live a life of
limitations. They are not highly
regarded. They know their role, their
important position of trust, keeping track of the flock. They know the limitations of weather. They know the limitation brought by
predators. They know their
limitations. They know their gifts and
strengths. They look to God in trust to
lead them. They look out for others who
are even more limited. Facing our limits
helps us grow in faith.
As people started to recognize the
Christ Spirit in Jesus and to realize that the real power doesn’t lie in riches
and titles and strength and armies and terror and a lack of limits, people
began to flock to Jesus for healing and learning. And when the people who were invested in the
power structure already in place saw this, they felt threatened and they used
their power to try to put an end to Christ’s teaching, an end to Christ’s love,
an end to Christ, by nailing him on the cross.
Even on the cross, Jesus didn’t give
up the limits of being a human, even though he was also fully Divine, having
been there at the Creation of all things.
The soldiers mocked him as he hung there, saying, “If you are the Son of
God, save yourself.” They thought that
saving himself would be the more powerful move.
But they forgot, Jesus is a shepherd.
His objective is to guide the sheep, care for the sheep. Christ took on the ultimate limits and put
his life on the line for the sheep. He
gave his life for the sheep, for us, for all God’s children. He became the sacrificial lamb to save all
creation. But of course, God can’t be
killed. So Jesus went through the valley
of the shadow of death, walked with all who die through death’s darkest valley,
so that all who die know they aren’t alone.
God doesn’t die, so on the third day, Christ rose from the dead,
appeared to several women at the tomb and 11 frightened disciples locked in a
room, and bestowed the Holy Spirit.
We are always faced with
limitation. But it isn’t so obvious and
painful as it is this year. I want you
to be encouraged by the fact that God took on limitations to become God with
us, the Christ in our midst, the Son of God, Jesus. We can appreciate our limits, knowing that
God is with us, empowering limited people like us to share our lives, to make
sacrifices that bring life to God’s little ones.
We, limited,
vulnerable people are called to be co-creators with God. We are called to be the body of Christ,
feeding the sheep, healing the sick, clothing the naked, housing those without
shelter, welcoming the rejected, protecting the vulnerable. We recognize our limitations, knowing we
aren’t God and giving thanks we aren’t.
That job is covered.
This week I heard the story of a
singer, who permanently lost his voice.
His friends expressed their sympathy and said how sad it was that he
couldn’t do what he loved. He answered
this way, “At least I still have something to sing about.” This singer’s ability to sing was gone, but
there was something more important—there was a song, good news, hope, inspiration,
a bigger story we’re all part of, something infinite and good and loving. Although some things are limited, others aren’t,
and the story the we have is beyond all our abilities to express it or
understand it.
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