Some things never change. Last weekend, it was snow and ice all up and down the east coast. Interstates closed, hotels so full that people camped out in the lobbies, flights delayed. Today there was a wintry mix from Minnesota to Michigan with full-blown blizzards from the southern Plains to the Dakotas. Already this morning, hundreds of flights at the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport had been cancelled, leaving thousands of holiday travelers stranded. Once again, the unexpected wreaks havoc with life’s plans.
Maybe all those stranded travelers can take some small comfort in the fact that the same thing happened that first Christmas. Mary and Joseph, after all, had been planning for their baby’s arrival. In spite of the unusual circumstances surrounding Mary’s pregnancy, together they had made the plans and preparations every young couple makes to open their lives to a child.
In their case, the unexpected was not the weather, but the Emperor, who decided it was a good time for a census. That meant they had to travel to Joseph’s home town of Bethlehem, along with hundreds of other people. Mary and Joseph were especially unlucky, first, they couldn’t find a room with a proper bed and bath, but wouldn’t you know it, as soon as they settled down in the stable to try to get a little rest, Mary’s contractions started. Luke tells us nothing about the details of the birth, which suggests that it was probably no more or less challenging or monumental for them than the labor and delivery of any firstborn child.
I can’t help but wonder if the very normalcy of the birth surprised them. After all, Mary had been told by an angel that the baby she carried and nurtured for nine months was none other than, “the Son of the Most High.” She may not have understood what that meant, but she knew it was a big deal, that God was interacting with humanity in an entirely new way. Don’t you think when that baby was finally born, Mary and Joseph almost expected to hear angels singing when Jesus drew his first breath? But in the small, bare room, there was no sound except the cry of a newborn child and the adoration of brand new parents for their baby. That night, God came to Mary and Joseph, but not in the way they expected or planned.
Of course, just because there weren’t angels singing outside the stable doesn’t mean there weren’t angels singing somewhere. Out in the hills, where there were no inns or houses or even stables, angels were singing...to an astonished group of shepherds who had no other plans, that night or any night, but sleeping under the stars.
Shepherds were the migrant workers of New Testament times. They moved from place to place and slept in the fields; they were poor and homeless and they didn’t need to be counted for the census because, for the government, they really weren’t worth counting. But not for God.
God sent angels to the shepherds -- the poor, lowly shepherds -- to proclaim the good news: “to you is born this day the Messiah, the Lord.” The even better news was what the angel said next: “you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” In other words, this is no royal child born in a governor’s mansion, a child you can’t relate to or even hope to visit. This child is like you, poor and lowly, wrapped up in strips of cloth like all the infants born to common people, sleeping not in a cradle covered with jewels, but in a manger lined with nothing but clean straw.
This was something the shepherds had to see, a king, the messiah, born into a humble home. So they went to find the child, and when they do, it is the unlikely shepherds who share the good news with Mary and Joseph that the baby they have already fallen in love with is God’s love come into the world for all people, the fierce, unconditional, self-sacrificial love of a mother for her newborn child.
That love is the gift God gives us at Christmas. And God gives it to us no matter where we come from, how much money we have, or where we sleep at night. At Christmas, God comes to us all, and gives the gift of love.
*****
It happened at a Christmas Eve service at a church not so different from this one. The church was full of devoted members and expectant visitors and the sanctuary beautifully decorated with poinsettias, Christmas trees, and twinkling lights.As Sam, one of the ushers, put it, “he swirled in like a dust devil,” looking for all the world like Charlie Brown’s friend Pigpen. He asked Sam directions to Central and Bridge Streets, but before hearing the answer, headed down the aisle in a cloud of dust and sat down in the second pew from the front. With some concern, Sam followed, sat down next to him, and gave him a bulletin. The man said his name was Joe.
Early in the service there was the baptism of a baby boy. Joe turned to Sam and said, “Oh my God...it’s baby Jesus!” Sam kept wanting to return to his ushering duties, but he decided it was more important to stay next to Joe as long as Joe wanted to worship. And Joe did worship. He sat in awe during the choir’s anthem and expressed surprise when a woman stepped into the pulpit to preach. But he listened to every word. During the offering, Sam gave Joseph a five dollar bill and told him he was free to keep it or give it away. Joe joyfully put it into the offering plate. And when the light of Christ was passed around and everyone sang Silent Night, Sam and Joe stood side by side, their shoulders touching. Afterward, everyone greeted Joe with enthusiastic Christmas wishes, handshakes, hugs, and kisses.
Sam was so moved by what happened that night that he went home, wrote it down in a letter, and sent the letter -- a true Christmas card -- to his family and friends. God came to Sam that Christmas in a most unexpected way and gave him the gift of love, a gift he could not help but share with others.
Love came down at Christmas...God’s gift to us all. Like Mary and Joseph, like the shepherds, like Joe and Sam, may we share it well. Amen.
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