The Scene at the Manger

The Scene at the Manger

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector

St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas

December 24, 2013; Christmas Eve, Year A

Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(Luke 2:1-20)  In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. 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. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. 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 for them in the inn.

In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 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: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger." And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,

"Glory to God in the highest heaven,

and on earth peace among those whom he favors!"

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." So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.

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The manger scene is a poignant one.  At one level it is so common, so universal.  A loving couple simply rejoicing at the birth of their child.  Yet, this pastoral scene is set in a wider political context.  In the background is the vulnerable circumstance of citizens living under the capricious rule of a foreign occupying army.  Mary and Joseph are in Bethlehem, a long way from their home in Nazareth, because Imperial Rome wants a census.  Knowing who everyone is and where they are makes it easier for Rome to exploit them. 

This family is dislocated and for a time, homeless.  But like countless dislocated individuals and families throughout history, they make the best of it.  They find the best place possible, and their child is born in a stable for livestock.

That was over two-thousand years ago, and here we are together on a cold evening, gathered to celebrate that moment again. 

I’d like to invite you to look with me at the cast of characters within this manger scene. 

Let’s start with Mary and Joseph.  Mary is a peasant girl, probably around thirteen or fourteen, just past puberty when girls were married in her day.  She was given an extraordinary angelic invitation to become the mother of a special child.  She simply says, “Yes.”  “Let it be unto me according to thy word.” 

She could have protested modestly, “Oh no!  It’s impossible.  Who am I?  I’m nobody?”  Instead she says simply, “I am the handmaid of the Lord.  Let it be unto me according to thy word.” 

Mary teaches us something.  She knows who she is and whose she is.  She accepts the royal identity.  Because she can accept that she is the handmaid of the Lord, she can say “Yes” to the extraordinary invitation to bear Jesus.  Orthodox theologians call her the “Mother of God.”  Tonight we celebrate her acceptance of the impossible possibility.

We are invited to accept for ourselves an identity similar to Mary’s.  The creation story of Genesis and our own baptism announces to each of us:  “You are the child of God.  You are the beloved.  You are created in the image and likeness of God.  You are infinitely loved by God.” 

I am convinced that if each of us could accept and embrace that royal identity, we could become as relaxed and confident as Mary.  There is no reason why we cannot accept with her the vocation to be “God-bearers,” the very hands and heart of Jesus in the world.  We also can say with Mary, “Let it be unto me according to thy word.”

Mary at the manger:  The image of one accepting the impossible possibility.

By her side is Joseph.  This past Sunday we read Matthew’s story of Joseph’s dilemma.  He was engaged to Mary, and she was inconveniently pregnant.  He knows what that means in a patriarchal society.  Everything he has ever been taught by his religion and his family tells him what to do – put away the immoral woman; leave her to the punishment she deserves –banishment or death.  But he does something unexpected.  He listens to his intuition.  He listens to his dreams.  And he dares to hope something unimaginable.  Her embarrassing pregnancy will mediate God’s blessing.  On this night, his unimaginable hope comes true. 

From time to time we are asked to follow our heart, our intuition, and our dreams instead of what we know to be true – what we’ve been taught; what everyone knows; the conventional understanding.  Sometimes we need to hope the unimaginable hope.  Kind, courageous, humble Joseph shows us how to do that.  He hovers protectively over the small, vulnerable baby – a child destined to offer unimaginable hope for the whole world.

At our manger scene we also see shepherds.  We tend to romanticize shepherds after so many Christmas pageants with cute children in bathrobes and towel headdresses.  But in Mary and Joseph’s day, shepherds were disreputable.  Everyone believed them to be crooks and thieves, not unlike the way we might think of inner city gangs today.  Shepherds were hard people living hard lives.  Cautious, cynical, defensive.  Knowing the world was against them, they took responsibility to do whatever they had to do in order to provide for themselves and their sheep. 

But these shepherds see something that challenges their cynicism.  Their dark, suspicious world becomes brilliantly lighted with a heavenly, angelic message:  “Fear not:  for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy.” 

Shepherds are men with sharp, fearful sensitivities.  They have been trained from childhood to be alert and suspicious of any unusual light or sound or shadow as a possible threat.  Their cold world is full predators and enemies.  It has always been so for their fathers and their fathers’ fathers for centuries.  Everyone has always regarded them as threatening, and everyone outside their flock has been a potential threat to them. 

Now, out of nowhere comes a message of wondrous joy.  Joy!?  When do shepherds ever get to experience joy?  Maybe when they rescue a lamb from a wolf.  But now they hear of another lamb, wrapped in the swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.  And the angels fill the skies and these shepherds’ imaginations with feelings of peace and good will toward all. 

They go to Bethlehem and find the manger.  Then something remarkable happens.  The parents of this newborn child welcome them.  Mary and Joseph welcome shepherds into this holy place.  Despised, mistrusted, low-life shepherds find hospitality and acceptance by the side of the infant Jesus.  They can share the joy of new life.  The joy the angels proclaimed.  Wondrous joy!

Mary, Joseph and the Shepherds.

Mary shows us how to accept the impossible possibility that we are so loved by God that we too are invited to be God-bearers.  Our bodies also bring the divine life into the world.  Let it be.

Joseph shows us how to see beyond everything we’ve been taught, everything we’ve ever known, to trust in possibilities we can’t imagine, to carry, gently and courageously, an unimaginable hope.

And the shepherds invite us to relax our fearful defensiveness, to trust the light.  Fear not!  Do not be afraid!  There is goodness beyond what we can conceive.  Good tidings of great joy for all people.  Every human being.  Whether displaced or despised; vulnerable, perplexed or afraid. 

The earth is filled with welcoming light.  All are welcome at the manger.  Life is filled with great joy.  Wondrous joy!

Can you feel the radiance of the eternal light, shining on us now for more than two millennia?  Announcing to us a birth; a birth in our lives:  a birth of impossible possibility; a birth of unimaginable hope; a birth of wondrous joy.

And so we sing:

Oh holy Child of Bethlehem,

descend to us we pray;

cast out our sin and enter in,

be born in us today.

We hear the Christmas angels

the great glad tidings tell;

O come to us, abide with us,

our Lord Emmanuel!