Christmas Eve 2015, 11pm

(Text: Luke 2.1-20)

         Tonight we hear - once more - the Christmas story. A lovely story. The Greatest Story ever told.

         Stories are an important part of our lives – they educate, they entertain, they communicate ideas, they preserve history. People tend to like a good story. It’s why we tell them, why we listen to them, why we write them down and read them.  We act out stories, we put them to music, we dance or paint or sculpt them. However we express it, we are storytellers.

         Now, some people are better storytellers than others, some stories are more captivating than others. These are the stories that we tend to think of as GOOD stories, and they all include a number of parts.

         First off, a GOOD story conveys a theme or moral or lesson. Then the action brings about the plot. The structure tells how we’re hearing the story – for example, as a character, or an observer. Then our cast of characters, those memorable folks to whom we can relate. Let's not forget the setting, the ‘where’ and ‘when’ of the story. And finally, we want to throw in some style, some emotion to the story.

         And when one story has all these components, we tend to like it. We enjoy reading or hearing it; we want to share it, we want to return to it again and again, we want it to be part of our own story. French author François Mauriac stated: “Tell me what you read and I'll tell you who you are" is true enough, but I'd know you better if you told me what you reread.”

         And tonight we’re celebrating a story that we have all read and reread, heard and re-heard. It's a story that meets all those components, including helping to define who we are. If people know who we are by what we read, people know us better because we reread tonight’s Gospel story.

         So let’s journey into this beautiful Christmas story from Luke.

         It has a theme: God’s promises are always realised. Whether it’s the promise of finding a child or the promise of a Saviour, God keeps his promises for us all.

         It has a plot, and really quite a good one: increasing government taxation through a census, a new romance with a bit of a scandal (unmarried teen mom!), a dangerous journey ending with a dramatic birth, an angelic visitation and prophecy to secondary characters who then undertake their own journey – PHEW! This is all in 20 verses. 17 sentences. In today’s literature, that’s a plot for a whole novel. This storyline catches our attention and draws us in. There's a lot happening, we're easily engaged, and we want more of it. This is a biblical page-turner, if you will.

         Structurally, we've got an external observer including some great dialogue as the plot races through converging scenes. The details of era and setting give us a feel for what's going on, and we relate to the characters through direct quotes – we can almost imagine what their voices sound like. Was the angel male or female? Did you think about that when I was reading the Gospel? Are you thinking about it now?

         Our main characters, Mary and Joseph, are ordinary folks called to extraordinary things. Mary shifts from being the pregnant betrothed to the new mother, yet remains silent throughout. Joseph is the faithful husband-to-be, with historic lineage but not well-off himself (if he was rich, the inn-keeper would have offered his own rooms for the entourage; a stable certainly would not have been sufficient).

         The secondary characters are so common that we don’t learn anything about them - no names, not even how many there are - we just know that there are shepherds. Visited by an angel, who delivers a message, and is joined by a whole choir of other angels. The shepherds’ common ministry is to receive and repeat this message. This ministry is so important that they immediately ignore their earthly responsibilities in the fields to go with haste to the town.

         So within the broader scope, the characters and circumstances of this story are relatable, for all of us. We too have to follow government legislations and taxation, even if it’s not always convenient. We too have traveled, have stayed at less-than-ideal places, have made do with what we could find. We’ve met new people unexpectedly, we’ve been approached by strangers who have been put in our path temporarily for a particular purpose.  We too have a ministry to demonstrate God’s glory to the world, a part in a greater story where we may not even be named. Government employees are civil servants, innkeepers are hospitality specialists, shepherds are farmers. Husbands, mothers, singers. Yup, we can relate to these people.

         The setting for our story is equally indistinct. Bethlehem is a main city, it could be anywhere. We don’t know anything about the inn that turns them away; we know nothing about which stable they are in as the child is born. Our shepherds are out ‘in the fields’, whichever fields those might be. It could be anywhere: a cheap motel in the city; a barn in the countryside. If it could happen there, it could happen here.

         As for timing, it was during Quirinius’ rule over Judea, which lasted 7 years – again, the details are ambiguous to allow our own creativity to fill in the blanks in a way that will make it personal and meaningful to every one of us.

         Continuing on, this story has definite style. The emotional grab hooks us right in from the start. We hear the story once and are drawn into it; we hear it again and are drawn to another part of the same story. We’re connected to this good news because it is a living reality for us. This is not a collection of words on a page, this is not just a story in a book, this is a part of who we are.

         That we reread it time and again means that we WANT to be drawn into the story. We WANT to engage with that message, to hear the “good news of great joy” the angels promise. We WANT to live our lives knowing that this message was given “for all the people,” including US. We WANT to reread this story because it speaks to us, as it has for more than 2000 years, of a direct connection that is personal, unique, astounding. We WANT to hear how God continues to give each and every one of us, in this day and age, the great gift of his Son.  “[T]o YOU is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is the Messiah, the Lord.”

         And so this great story is the greatest story ever told, because it never ends. As many times as this story is told, it is lived. It is lived when we put ourselves into it, and carry it with us into the world. It is lived when we reread the story and remind ourselves that we too are being invited to seek out the Christ-child in our midst. It is lived when we reread the story and celebrate our own ministry, our own involvement in God’s great ongoing creation. It is lived when we reread the story and joyfully declare to the world (at Christmas and for all times) "Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favours!"

Sermon, Advent 2

         We've got some really fun readings happening this week. Strong messages, very empowering and encouraging. All of them reminding us that there are great things about to happen - all of them reminding us that part of our ministry is to get ready for these thing. And all of them coming from - let's be honest - really unexpected sources.

         Starting with the message from Baruch ben Neriah. This Jewish aristocrat is a minor prophet from the 6^th century BC, best known for being the secretary, friend, and scribe for the prophet Jeremiah. Because his ministry was one of following around a prophet and recording someone else's words, some people suggest that his works should not be included in the scriptures.  And yet, we have them, and thank goodness for that, because the message from Baruch is a beautiful one. He’s writing to those who are in captivity: “God will lead Israel with joy, in the light of his glory, with the mercy and righteousness that come from him.” These powerful words are empowering for all people who wait for any form of release.

         Then our canticle, the Song of Zechariah, speaks literally to captive audience. is not a source we would expect - a devout but older priest. He’s visited by the angel Gabriel and told he’ll have a son who will announce the coming of the Lord. Not quite believing this, Zechariah tells his wife Elisabeth, also a woman of mature years, and then - shocking everyone - she conceives. Punished for doubting the angel, Zechariah is made mute until the child is named: thus Zechariah becomes the father of John, who will become John the Baptiser. Recalling that Elisabeth is Mary’s cousin, this means that Zechariah is Jesus’ uncle. Admittedly, he's not a wholly unbiased source, but his timeless message is strong and comforting: “In the tender compassion of our God, the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

         Then we have Paul and Timothy, writing to the church at Philippi, in Greece, one of the main Christian centres of the time where Paul had visited on his second missionary trip. As he writes this letter, however, he is imprisoned in Rome, facing execution. Despite this, Paul greets his brothers and sisters in Christ in a way that serves to bolster their faith, thanking these folks for their participation in the Gospel, in their commitment to spread the good news.  He is praying that their love will continue to increase until the second coming of Christ. His thoughts are not asking for help for himself, but rather promising that the day of Christ Jesus will be soon, and until such time Paul prays for all of them. What comfort they must feel as they hear his words read aloud: “I thank my God every time I remember you.”

         And then another unlikely source of Good News comes in Luke’s Gospel. We’re reminded that this is an unlikely source, because even in those days, folks were only expected to follow the credible, approved, expected sources. This expectation is so profound we even have it spelled out for us who the (culturally) important people are, the folks with power and authority and control: Tiberius is the Emperor Tiberius, Pontius Pilate is governor of Judea, Herod is ruler of Galilee, Herod’s brother Philip is the ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, Lysanias is the ruler of Abilene, and both Annas and Caiaphas are high priests. These are no slouches; they’re the folks to be listened to, and we're given these names in direct contrast to the message that Luke wants us to hear.

         Basically, Luke invites us to ignore these fancy schmancy people, and listen to Zechariah’s boy John. It's important to note that in Luke's account, we don't know much about John. In fact, all we know from this Gospel is that the man can quote from Isaiah. He’s not educated, he doesn’t hold a position of power, he’s just some guy preaching repentance for the forgiveness of sins. Other accounts of John tell us a grittier story – he’s dressed in camel hair, eating locusts and wild honey; he’s the original bushman. A highly unlikely source, yet John becomes one who shares comforting words with those people around the Jordan who are desperate to hear it. "Prepare the way of the Lord," John says, and “all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”

         The way of the Lord - not that of the governor or the ruler or the high priest, not the easy road. The salvation of God - not the promises of the elite or the limited time deals of the world.

         These readings remind us that there is Good News to be found - in abundance! But, we're also reminded that it doesn't always come from where we might expect.

So extrapolating that just a bit, let's consider our own lives.

To whom do WE listen today? Where do we hear the Good News being shared? How do we decide who to give attention and credibility to?

         We're challenged to find the messages of God's salvation and comfort in our lives, just as much as the people throughout our spiritual history had to. We need to see how we can become trapped ourselves - captives, if you will - by other messages. There are messages of political insult and mud-slinging. There are messages of xenophobia and misogyny. There are messages of fear-mongering and cultural divide. There are messages of rampant consumerism and - well, you get the idea. You've seen the adverts, heard the commentaries, read the news.

         They're overwhelming, and they trap us. They make us captive to the agendas and pains of this life. They try to block out for us the messages of peace and love and comfort, because those messages don't sell product, nor garner support, nor meet advertising standards.

         So we're reminded today that the message we want - need - to be hearing is most likely coming from an unlikely messenger. It won't have a billboard, it won't have celebrity endorsement, it won't have a prime-time advertising budget.

         What it will have is an authenticity that could only come from God. A message without a price tag, a message of inclusion, a message that focuses more on the kingdom of God than the kingdoms of the earth. It's a message of comfort, of true spiritual freedom, of a love so astonishing that we can barely begin to describe it.

         It's the message we all want to hear; it's the message God's people have wanted to hear throughout all of our history. The message invites us to turn away from whatever is trapping us here on earth, even if it doesn't feel like a trap; the message that challenges us to commit to preparing our selves for the coming of the Christ.

         It's the message of truth that is culturally shocking, and wonderful, and unexpected. It's the message that we will only hear when we can listen to messengers who are equally shocking and wonderful and unlikely. It's a message waiting to be heard, waiting to be shared, waiting to be lived. It's a message of Good News.

         I pray our Advent journey is one that prepares us to hear this most amazing message.