Christmas Eve-December 24, 2015 – Luke 2:1-20

Luke 2:1-20

Seeing and Hearing Differently

Christmas Eve – December 24, 2015

First Lutheran Church – Winnipeg, MB

A few weeks ago my friends Michael and Carolyn were putting their

2 year old Evelyn (who is also my friend) to bed.

They were trying to get her ready – did I mention she is 2?

Anyway, at a certain point they had to say, “Evelyn! It is past your bedtime!”

To which she replied, startled, “It’s not Pastor Bedtime. It’s Pastor Michael!”

 

So super delightful! I should just stop here! I’m not going to get a bigger laugh tonight!

Cause we all know the Christmas sermon is all about laffs!

It’s not Pastor Bedtime – it’s Pastor Michael!

Children hear things differently.

They hear the same things, but they have the ability to hear them differently.

Such a wonderful quality.

 

Luke has that same quality.

He’s an artist – maybe blessed with the most literary gifts of all the New Testament writers.

After all, it’s his picture of Christmas we all hear and see in our minds.

The registration, the journey to Bethlehem, the stable, the manger, the angels, the shepherds.

Only Luke tells us about these things.

He hears the same news everyone else does:

The headlines about Caesar and his power.

The violence that inevitably follows rebellion.

The sway of threat and intimidation.

But Luke hears the news differently.

He hears Caesar named King, Saviour, Lord.

But he does not name Caesar that.

Luke hears something different going on in the world.

Luke hears of someone else worthy to be named King, Saviour, and Lord.

A Jewish peasant whose ministry consisted of healing, and forgiving,

and feeding, and including, and welcoming.

Whose life consisted of love and grace and rather than threat and intimidation.

Luke knows that same news we know:

like us, Luke knows about terrorism and poverty and racism and hunger and

environmental stress.

But Luke hears what’s going on differently.

In the birth of Jesus, Luke hears something new that God is doing.

Like Evelyn, Luke hears things differently.

In the birth of Jesus, Luke hears God beginning something that will end the present evil age

and replace it with the gracious, inclusive, generous realm of God.

Rather than feeding constantly on others as Caesar and his realm constantly did,

God will feed others with himself and give himself away in love,

signalled by Jesus being born in a manger, to be eaten, manger:

can you hear the story differently when that word is pronounced in French?

Luke hears something very hopeful in this most unhopeful birth to poor parents

in an out of the way place among not very important shepherds.

Luke hears that but he hears it differently: he hears it hopefully!

He hears that it’s good news that this is where God comes!

He hears it as good news that God comes to the vulnerable!

He hears it as good news that God comes for the vulnerable!

He hears it as good news that God loves this whole world so much that

God is willing to do something about it.

Take on a human body and work and serve and cry with the mourning and

celebrate with the joyful.

It’s good news that God gets personally involved in this broken world and

does something about it.

And on this night we hear the best news of all: Jesus is born for you, the angels say.

For you and for all.

Sure: we all know the realms of darkness just like the first century Jewish people.

We know the headlines just as they did,

and to tell the truth the headlines aren’t all that different.

But there is also something else going on besides just the headlines.

Or, at least, we hear them differently: we know that where there is stress is where Jesus is born.

We know that where there is darkness is where Jesus is born.

And whether that is in Syria or whether that is in your neighbourhood,

and whether that is in your household or whether that is in your heart,

that is where Jesus comes to be born.

And bring light. And bring hope. And bring the possibility of a new day.

Because the child and the hope and the new realm of love and grace that come through him

are for you.

 

At Sargent and Victor we know about the vulnerable and we know about the darkness.

We know about poverty and we know about hunger.

The congregation of First Lutheran Church stays here confident that this is where Jesus is born.

And confident that Jesus’s patron saint of giving to the poor, St Nicholas, comes here

just as much as St. Nicholas – that is Santa Claus – comes to everyone else.

One of our many neighbourhood ministries here is a Christmas Hamper ministry.

Under the direction of our member Nancy Steiman our members contribute food and

children’s gifts and

money to make beautiful generous hampers for the people of this neighbourhood.

And we deliver them ourselves.

This year the hampers were delivered last Wednesday evening.

When our members went to one household, and a child saw the overflowing boxes of food and    gifts wrapped for each child with their names on them, the child said to her parents:

“See: I told you Santa would come!”

And the people who delivered the hamper were not wearing red suits and they did not

have big long white beards and they did not say “Ho-ho-ho.”

Like little Evelyn the child saw things differently.

The child saw St. Nicholas, patron saint of generosity, being born in those who bore gifts.

Apparently Santa exists! Santa is real.

 

Christianity is not rocket science. We receive gifts. We give gifts.

We receive forgiveness. We give forgiveness.

We receive respect and honour and dignity. We give respect and honour and dignity.

We receive food. We give food.

We receive love. We give love.

We receive unconditional welcome at this table – and we give unconditional welcome.

And like the children in tonight’s stories we see things differently and we hear things differently.

The people of First Lutheran Church hear news of difficulty and hear it as opportunity.

The people of First Lutheran Church see darkness and respond by bearing light.

The light that wants to lighten darkness.

The love that brings hope.

For you. For everyone. This dark night.  For you. For everyone.

So together, let us say, “Amen.”

 

Pastor Michael Kurtz

 

 

 

 

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