December 24, 2014 – Luke 2:1-20
Luke 2:1-20
Thrift Store Jesus
Nativity of our Lord: Christmas Eve – December 24, 2014
First Lutheran Church – Winnipeg, MB
A couple of weeks ago I found a little nativity scene made out of olive wood from
the Holy Land.
It had a Mary and Joseph, a wise man and a shepherd.
But when I got it home I realized that Jesus was missing. There was no Jesus! Disaster!
I realized that, before Christmas, I would have to find Jesus.
So the search for Jesus began.
Where to look for Jesus, though?
Too bad there is no longer a Holt Renfrew in Winnipeg.
Where to find the world’s greatest treasure?
If I were in New York, I’d maybe go to Macy’s, right?
If I were in Paris, I probably go to Le Bon Marche.
In Winnipeg, hm. Maybe I would go to the mall, maybe Polo Park.
But I didn’t go to any of those places.
Instead, I went to the thrift store.
I love going to the thrift store.
The store I really wanted to find Jesus was a place I’d never been before,
a place with a great name: The Scrap Came Back.
Which is a wonderful name for a thrift store: The Scrap Came Back.
I also like it because when you say it, it sounds like This Crap Came Back,
which is an even better name for a thrift store!
But it was kind of an upscale thrift store with very nice items made from
recycled materials, which was great, but I didn’t find Jesus there.
So: I went to an old standby. I went to the Goodwill.
And there, in a tiny plastic bag amid all the stuff people had found no use for anymore,
there I found Jesus.
In the thrift store.
A tiny, thrift store Jesus, so small you might hardly notice him.
It was there, in the thrift store, I found Jesus.
Thrift stores are pretty humble places.
They are filled with stuff you can’t imagine buying,
stuff that you can’t imagine anyone buying in the first place.
Some of it is ugly, some of it is hilarious, and some of it you don’t even know what it is.
The thrift store is where the poor shop – and those who like surprises and a daily dose of
serendipity.
The thrift store is close to the ground.
The thrift store, though, is a place of hope.
It’s where you take stuff you think someone might just have a use for,
although you no longer do.
The thrift store is where you go when you want something you couldn’t afford otherwise and
you might just find there.
The thrift store is where stuff gets a second lease on life, a chance to make a difference again,
a place where stuff isn’t relegated to the trash bin,
but where beauty and, okay, ugliness mingle and find a home together.
Where there’s hope again for usefulness, where there is hope that we’ll find what we need there.
Where the stuff that doesn’t count for much in the world’s eyes,
has a hope of counting for someone.
Mary and Joseph go to Bethlehem to be counted.
It’s a long journey – a hundred miles on foot! – and a dangerous one, filled with bandits.
They go because they have to – not to take the waters at Bethlehem,
not to sit on the beach and read a paperback,
not to go to the Bethlehem Tiki Bar and Motel to enjoy a few cocktails.
They go because they are forced to, because of the machinery of a cruel empire.
But in Luke’s account, they go primarily because even though they do not really count,
not to Rome anyway, they go according to Luke because Bethlehem,
where this child will be born, is where hope might be found.
The great irony in this account, according to the preacher Tom Long, is that
while Mary and Joseph and their unborn child along with countless others
go to Bethlehem to be counted,
they do not really count at all in the eyes of the empire.
In themselves they do not count: Rome just wants to count them to extract the
maximum possible amount of taxes from the region.
They are not beautiful or useful in themselves, or valuable in their own right.
They, along with countless others, do not really count in the eyes of the empire.
And yet, according to Luke, the thing they go in search of is hope.
Hope that they might be found useful and full of worth.
And what they all find is that there, in Bethlehem, filled with those counted as worthless,
comes one who counts them of infinite worth.
There, among those the world perceives as worthless,
they find one – or more accurately are found by one –
who counts them as of infinite worth.
They find the God of all mercy and all grace who regards them as so valuable,
they this God is willing to take on flesh, be born among them as one of the vulnerable,
become one of them, and promise to travel with them on all the long hard roads
to hope they have to travel in this life – and never let them go.
In the jumbled thrift store of Bethlehem, they find Jesus.
And they find hope.
And that is still where we can expect to find him.
Not at Macy’s, not at Le Bon Marche, not even at Polo Park.
But at the thrift store, among the vulnerable,
among those and that which the world does not count as valuable.
In the hospital rooms and the intensive care units.
In the care homes and the boarding houses.
In generosity to strangers and in hospitality given and received.
In our own loneliness and despair, in the dark thrift stores of our souls where
all the stuff we can’t stand about ourselves is relegated to a place we wish weren’t there.
These are the places Jesus comes. These are places Jesus is. These are the places Jesus is found.
These are the places Jesus transforms by his presence.
These are the places Jesus makes count.
These are the places Jesus makes valuable, and useful, and full of light and grace.
I found Jesus in the thrift store – and in other places you don’t expect to:
Jesus loves surprise and serendipity.
Not in Macy’s, not in Le Bon Marche, not at Polo Park, but in our own Parish Hall,
where last Wednesday a crew of us served a fantastic Christmas Dinner with
all the trimmings to 80 or 90 of our friends in the Victor Street Neighbourhood.
We prayed before we ate, we thanked God for this food,
and we thanked God for coming among us in Jesus in the power of the Spirit.
Ronald was there with good news of his own: he was about to become a father and
Even my cooking couldn’t get the grin off his face.
Ray was there who asked why I didn’t make yams this year!
And then there was a young man, who I don’t know, who, as I was serving cranberry sauce
at the end of the line, took his plate to his table, put it down, came back,
and just looked at me with eyes used to sadness but that were now filled with
wonder and gratitude.
And he threw his arms around me and gave me a big hug.
And when he stopped, he looked at me again, and I guess figured that that wasn’t enough,
and so gave me another hug, and then went and sat down, and ate his meal.
That’s where I found Jesus.
Among this collection of wondrous people whom Jesus loves.
Among this collection of people who count to Jesus.
Among volunteers who wearied themselves with serving these people Jesus loves.
In the grace of Jesus that transformed a Parish Hall into a place of hope where
hope could be found.
Hope for dignity, hope for a second chance, hope for just counting to someone.
In a world that wants to count us for what we have and what we can achieve,
there is hope for us all: for our guests at Food Bank, for those of us who serve,
for each person here: there is hope in the thrift store Jesus.
So together let us say, Amen.
Pastor Michael Kurtz
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