Meg Peery McLaughlin
December 24, 2024
Luke 2: 1-20
In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2 This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3 All went to their own towns to be registered. 4 Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. 5 He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. 6 While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. 7 And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth and laid him in a manger, because there was no place in the inn.
8 Now in that same region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9 Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10 But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid, for see, I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: 11 to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah,[b] the Lord. 12 This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” 13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host,© praising God and saying,
14 “Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace, goodwill to all.”
15 When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” 16 So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph and the child lying in the manger. 17 When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child, 18 and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them, 19 and Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. 20 The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, just as it had been told them.
The child is born. The angels sing.
Christmas has come, church.
The night is here. Tonight God makes the absurdly stunning choice
to pour God’s very self—into the smallness of a human body,
a body that knows hunger and pain,
an infant body, rooting for milk and craving his mother’s skin.
Tonight heaven and earth touch.
The Creator of all that is and the redeemer of all who are
gets down on the floor of earth
to get close, to become Emmanuel, God-with-us.
It’s kind of a lot to take in–
And while I cannot explain to you how God does this
I can tell you why God does.
Love is why. God’s love for you, and not alone for you,
God’s love for the whole wide world.
With this love– the-likes-of-which-we-cannot-fully-fathom
and this theology all packed into this Christmas story,
I never noticed … the grammar.
I can’t blame myself, English major though I was.
And who really cares about grammar
when the world is so much.
Maybe grammar isn’t what matters tonight,
But, truth is,
I know some of you have had to adjust your verb tenses this Christmas.
‘That is dad’s stocking. You’ve said, then quickly corrected,
I mean, it was his.’
There are singles who used to be couples
and so they’ve lost their conjunctions.
To the invitations to holiday parties,
it’s no longer he and I would love to come.
Instead, it’s “no, just me this year.”
There are grandparents doing extraordinarily beautiful work
trying to get pronouns right.
There are adjectives that I’ve heard you wished could describe you. Oh that you would be. . .
Healthy
Sober
Understood
Pregnant
Forgiven
—
The notable grammar in this story is in the holy serenade—
that is sung to shepherds,
shepherds smelling of sweat and manure
squatting on land that doesn’t belong to them,
in a field on the edge of the West Bank.
The angel of the Lord comes to announce the birth,
Then Luke tells us that suddenly there was with the angel
a multitude of the heavenly host,
who announce a new world order:
Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace, goodwill to all!
I hadn’t noticed it before but in the angels’ song
there are no verbs.
No action words, not even in the Greek.
It’s 6 nouns, 3 prepositions, 1 adjective, 1 conjunction,
and a partridge in a pear tree.
On this most holy night, church, there is just the simple declaration:
“Glory. God. Heaven. Earth. Peace. Goodwill.”
No verbs.
No doing.
No working.
No believing.
No deserving.
No escaping.
No verbs.
Just Glory. God. Heaven. Earth. Peace. Goodwill.
It seems there is no expectation that anyone do anything
other than hear the news,
no expectation that anyone do anything
other than receive the gift.
Maybe it seems to you like
Christmas won’t happen unless you make it happen,
with all the making of the magic and hosting and shopping and cooking
but, if I understand the text,
there is nothing we can do to make this night happen. It is all gift; all grace.
Tonight we are invited to receive. To still. To stop.
And if I’m honest it feels both holy, and strange.
Strange, for, it seems to me,
we are a people who don’t quite know what to do with without verbs.
As much as we may complain about having so much to do,
we are creatures who crave all the doing,
and we don’t always realize the role activity has in managing our emotions.
Which is also why, when we stop our normal patterns of
rushing, working, worrying, consuming
when we stop whatever it is we are constantly doing
our brains get a little wonky—
they starting scanning for what’s wrong, what’s next
thus it can take a while to actually stop, to really still our frantic souls.
Yes, this weary world is hurting, and yes, there is much to do,
but not tonight.
Tonight is not about anything you can do or should do
or wish you hadn’t done.
Christmas does not depend on us. It does not depend on us at all.
Christmas comes no matter what because the gift that is God’s love
is not reliant on any of us, and given to every last one of us.
It is Glory. God. Heaven. Earth. Peace. Goodwill.
Last week when we were proofing all the bulletins,
we collectively read the opening unison prayer.
Jarrett commented that the last word awed
is a funny word to say. Awed.
We don’t say it much, I suppose.
But I suspect awe is exactly what the shepherds felt
in those silent seconds after the angels had gone back into heaven.
As they sat in the dark of that field,
their eyes not yet adjusted from the brightness of the sky they
beheld mere moments earlier,
their ears still ringing from that verbless song,
they were awed. Utterly awed.
The etymology of the word awe stems from the word for pain;
It’s as if awe is actually an ache,
a longing that cracks us open somehow,
and moves us toward the one who comes to us tonight.
So, fall on your knees
And hear the angel voices—
They sing:
“Glory. God. Heaven. Earth. Peace. Goodwill.”
Soon there will be a call to go and tell,
A little longer there will be an invitation to come and follow.
But tonight, no verbs.
We stop.
We bask in the light,
receive the gift,
rest in the promise.
To you is born this day in the city of David
a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord