A shining moment
Commentary
To be perfectly frank, we have always found the high celebrations of the church year, most especially Christmas and Easter, among the most difficult of preaching situations. That is so for a couple of reasons. First, the Christmas and Easter stories are so familiar that it is hard to find a way into the listeners' minds and hearts that hasn't already been used and perhaps abused. The situation is fraught with a stupefying familiarity. Many in our congregations may know ahead of time what it is they want us to say. It is usually a theme they have heard before and expect to hear again.
Furthermore, these are the occasions when the nave is probably packed, and a good many of those present for these services will not be around at any other time of the year. They are the so-called "C and E people." Yet because they are present for these services, we preachers rightly feel we have a grand opportunity to reach these people who are only marginally affiliated with the church. Twice a year -- and only twice -- we have an opportunity to reach them.
But we have to be careful! The typical C and E attenders have little or no orientation to the faith. You dare not assume anything. They may not even know the fundamentals of Christian life and faith. Christmas and Easter are rich with subtle theological themes and profound spiritual messages. But we need to take care that we do not go over the heads of these twice-a-year attenders. So, what are we to do in our sermons for the Nativity services?
Certainly Christmas Eve is not the time to try to be crafty and attempt to wow the congregation with our own creativity. The Nativity is creative in and of itself. The event definitely doesn't need us to turn it into something worthy of pop television. Our task is to be faithful to the occasion and to articulate still again the fundamental message of the birth of Christ. There is something to be said for the rehearsal of the basic Christmas story, even if it is the same year after year. It is a story that never grows old and telling it again may be newly inspiring. Someone has said that the familiar helps the preacher into the lives of the listeners, and once there we can shed new light on the old, old story. So, how might we approach these lessons in a way that will allow us to open some new vistas for the congregation?
The lessons from Isaiah and Luke both refer to a shining. The prophet writes, "Those who lived in a land of deep darkness -- on them light has shined" (Isaiah 9:2). Luke's famous account of the angelic appearances to shepherds on the night of Jesus' birth refers to "the glory of the Lord" that "shone around" the angels (2:8). The image of light and darkness seems to reside deep in the human subconscious, since this image appears in so many different religious traditions. Furthermore, it continues to be a powerful metaphor. The absence of light may still be an apt way of speaking of our sense of the overwhelming presence of evil. On the other hand, light seems an appropriate metaphor for the gift of insight and the appearance of some evidence of the good. We may often feel that we live in a world trapped in a dark and empty cosmos without evidence of goodness. On those occasions, a shining indicates some hope, some favorable possibility, or some illumination of a way out of the darkness.
Christmas is the experience of a shining for lots of us. Some may not have any sense of hope that carries them through the whole year. But at Christmastime there is something in that old story that casts a light of hope in our world. The Nativity of our Lord is a shining -- an illumination for a darkened world.
Isaiah 9:2-7
Naming Christmas Eve a shining may be credited in large part to this lesson. Actually, however, this passage has had two lives. Its first life was lived in the original setting in which the words were written. In most likelihood, this passage was part of the inauguration of King Hezekiah (715-687 B.C.E.) late in the eighth century. He was hailed as a fresh beginning for the beleaguered people of Judah. The words are an expression of the hope some gained from this new king's enthronement. You might say that the passage is like a speech made at the inauguration of a new president whom many hope will bring a resolution to all of our problems. And, indeed, Isaiah was right in hailing the empowerment of this new king. Hezekiah is credited with a significant religious reform in Judah. However, he later started a rebellion against the Assyrians' oppression of Judah which was a colossal failure. Second Kings 18 recounts how the Assyrian forces repressed the rebellion Hezekiah initiated.
The second life of this passage arose in the context of the Christian community. The passage was resurrected perhaps first of all by Matthew, who used verses 1 and 2 as one of the famous "prophecy fulfillment" passages of that Gospel (Matthew 4:15-16). The first evangelist reinterpreted the beginning of Jesus' ministry in Galilee with these words from Isaiah. The theme of darkness and walking in darkness was common in early Christian writings (e.g., Romans 2:19 and Ephesians 5:8). Then, of course, this passage became an Old Testament reading for the celebration of the Nativity of our Lord. Once again, Handel contributed to the reinterpretation of an Old Testament passage by including verses 6-7 in the Messiah. Today in Christian churches Isaiah's words are almost synonymous with the Christmas celebration itself.
Two very different lives, yet both have validity. The passage has two distinctive parts. In the first (vv. 2-5) the prophet declares that hope is blossoming where there has been only despair. For the first time in a long time, the people can feel joyful. Moreover, they can dare to dream for release from oppression and the end of warfare. The reason for this radical change is explained in verses 6-7. The "son" given to the people is the new king, Hezekiah, and his "birth" (i.e., coronation) provides them a new lease on life. The nature of this new king's rule is depicted, first, with the assurance that God has given him authority to rule and, second, with the promise that his authority will increase as he continues to rule. He will not be like other rulers whose only authority was their own ambitions. The names of this new king are impressive: Counselor, God, Father, and Prince of peace; and the characteristics of his rule include peace, justice, and righteousness. The last sentence drills all of this home. The just and authoritative rule of this new king is not his own doing; it is something God is doing. God's commitment to the people and their well-being (that is, the divine zeal) will cause all this to come about.
We can understand the enthusiasm with which Isaiah responded to Hezekiah's coronation, and in large part it was justified. But it was but a brief shining of light in Judah's darkened world. Hezekiah was able to bring about religious reform, but he was never able to free Judah from oppression. So, his reign was only partially successful. Indeed, one might ask what good is religious reform if the people remained captives of the Assyrians. In Hezekiah a light shined for a time, even though it never eliminated the darkness.
In its second life, the passage announces the shining occasioned by the appearance of Christ -- the advent of the long-expected Messiah. It is the shining of the One who himself is the light, who indeed is God and the prince of peace. In faith, we have found light for our darkness in this world and a sort of peace that is different from the peace Judah sought through a new king. Above all, the light of Christ's appearing was something God was accomplishing. The divine love "will do this."
In no way should we claim that we Christians have found the true meaning of Isaiah's words. All we can claim is the freedom to read this passage in the context of our faith and to find in it a way of understanding what God was doing in the appearance of Christ. And we can claim by faith, against all of the evidence that may point in the opposite direction, that there is more than a brief shining in this divine appearance. In all honesty, however, we must admit that the shining of the Nativity is for many people a brief and passing experience of light. It is for some a shining but not a continuous light.
Titus 2:11-14
In this brief lesson we may discover a way of speaking of the Christmas shining in other words. In a sense, this seems a strange reading for Christmas Eve. There is no reference to the birth of Christ, and the words seem to have no immediate relevance for the celebration of the Nativity. Titus is one of the so-called "pastoral epistles," sometimes attributed to Paul and sometimes to one of Paul's disciples. One of the themes of this little epistle is the necessity to stand firm in teaching "sound doctrine." (See 2:1.) Our reading is plucked out of the context of the author's exhortation that the first reader (a congregational leader) persist in preserving the traditional faith.
These verses offer a condensed and small spontaneous affirmation of faith that covers much of what we believe happened in the birth of Christ. The affirmation may be read as a four-part assertion. It begins with the declaration of what has happened in the past. One of the definitive features of God occurred -- became an event -- in history. God's propensity to shower humans with unmerited love became evident in the Christ event. Furthermore, the evidence of that divine attribute enabled our salvation. Our right relationship with our Creator was made possible by the powerful inbreaking of God's grace.
The second part of this affirmation explores the fact that this new relationship made possible by divine grace evokes new life out of humans (v. 12). The author suggests that grace trains us to live moral lives, as if grace is experienced as a teacher or mentor. The reference to "the present age" hints at the affirmation's third part, which has to do with our hope for another age (v. 13). Our hopes are pinned on the promise of a future appearance of Christ and the revelation of the honor and worthiness of God. The fourth and final movement of this mini-faith-statement has to do with what Christ did for us to make all the previous parts of the affirmation possible (v. 14). He surrendered his life so that humans might be redeemed from all that distorts our lives and so that we might be made into his own people who live the grace that appeared in him.
This compact digest of Christian faith looks different when it is sandwiched between the first reading and the Gospel lesson. (The lectionary always creates a new interpretative context for a passage by setting it in relationship with two other lessons and a Psalm.) In this context, the author of Titus suggests that Christ's appearance was a shining of grace in lives imprisoned by mighty forces that separate us from our Creator and from our true selves. "For the grace of God appeared ..." means that in Christ's birth a fundamentally different reality came into being. That reality transformed human lives by a shining that enlightened God and consequently enlightened our existence. When we understand God better, we also understand ourselves better.
We might compare this shining to a flash of insight into the character of a parent. It's like a brief moment when we see one of our parents in a different light. You may already know this story; it is one of those that travels the pulpit circuit. Nonetheless, it is worth briefly retelling to make our point. The little boy knew his father to be a stern and distant parent who seldom showed much affection or even much emotion. On one occasion, however, he saw his father in a different light. There were dinner guests seated around the table, and the occasion had an air of formality but with a certain sense of cheer as well. The little boy reached for the butter and accidently knocked over his water glass. In horror, he looked at his father, expecting the worst. His father first looked shocked. Then gradually the corners of his lips began to curve ever so slowly upward. With that faint glimmer of a smile still on his face, the father reached out and with a wave of his hand knocked his own water glass over. By then all the adult guests were laughing. One by one they too pushed over their glasses of water.
It was a shining -- a moment when suddenly the child saw his parent in a new way. A shining of grace, where once there was thought to be only stern judgment. The author of Titus hints that Christ was a shining -- a moment when the grace of God appeared to us and made all the difference in the world.
Luke 2:1-20
The shining Luke mentions is of a different type. There in the darkness of night the shepherds were suddenly confronted with an angel. Then "the glory of the Lord shone around them and they were terrified" (v. 9). Luke suggests that the shining of the Christmas event was God's presence breaking into the world, much as the author of Titus says that the grace of God appeared. But we need to see this feature of the Lukan story in its larger context.
Luke's famous story of the birth of Jesus is so familiar that we may miss its poignant simplicity. The story tells of the holy family's journey to Nazareth to register for a census. There Mary gave birth to the child whose conception had been announced to her earlier. How simply the birth is told, almost as if it is a sidebar to the story (vv. 6-7).
Then, however, the scene suddenly shifts to the shepherds on the hillside. Familiarity with this story has numbed us to the way the story now works its magic. The shift from the newborn infant to the shepherds is terribly abrupt, like a surprising new camera shot breaking into what the viewer thinks is really the crucial event in a story. Our romanticizing of the story results, too, in the loss of the importance of these new characters. Far from our popular picture of shepherds, in the first century they were regarded as suspicious and unscrupulous vagabonds. They wandered about the countryside, seeking pasture for their flocks. They were not members of any community, except the community of shepherds with whom they worked. They would drift into villages from time to time for supplies and were notorious for stealing from the villagers and then promptly moving their flocks away to some unknown place.
To these socially marginalized, blacklisted, and untrustworthy persons comes the first announcement of Jesus' birth. Telling the story this way, Luke sneaks up behind us and jerks our attention to an important dimension of the narrative. The significance of the birth of this one who is to be the light of the world is first told to a most unlikely group of people. You would think that word would first of all be sent out to the religious and political leaders. But not so. Christ is born for the outcasts and the suspected, for the lonely and untrusted, and for those who had little hope. Moreover, the announcement is not made to these auslanders in an ordinary way. An angel, then a chorus of angels, and finally the bright floodlights of the glory of God! The story subtly speaks of God's grace without ever mentioning the word. Those most often thought to be unworthy of it are the first to be given the good news of what Christ's birth means for the world.
The extended Gospel reading tells how the shepherds visited the birth scene and shared the news they had received with the members of the holy family. The lesson concludes with the lowly shepherds going back to their daily routines new people. What had happened to them would change their lives forever.
Sometimes a shining moment does that, especially a shining of grace. We experience it; it passes; but we are different people because of it. We can only imagine how that little band of shepherds continued their work. How could they, after this shining experience? But often we cannot preserve a shining. It happens, and then it is gone. What does remain, however, is the impact it has on our lives. The shepherds could not remain at the stable; they could not travel home with Mary, Joseph, and the infant. They had to return to their sheep. However, their daily lives would never be the same.
Christmas is a shining moment in our lives and our world. We can't preserve it, package it, and keep it in our spiritual deep freezers. We let the light of the shining moment soak into our lives, and then we go back to our daily routines. Tonight we will leave this place to return to the newscasts of a troubled and violent world. We go back home and back to work, and there to relationships that may be strained and uncomfortable. We resume our lives in the context of daily troubles and hardships. But Christmas leaves its imprint on us. Like a laser beam, the shining of the glory of God's grace in the Nativity leaves us different people.
FIRST LESSON FOCUSBy Elizabeth Achtemeier
Isaiah 9:2-7
This is the same Old Testament lesson that was prescribed for Christmas Eve in Cycle C, 1997. If the preacher has kept back issues of Emphasis, he or she may want to look up the exposition there, in which the biblical contrasts between light and darkness were emphasized. But if this text is employed for the sermon again, the preacher will want to use a different approach.
If we look at the context of the passage, the words that immediately precede and follow it announce judgment upon Judah at the hands of the Lord because of Judah's lack of faith. In the eighth century B.C., that which God repeatedly asks of his people through the words of Isaiah is trust -- trust that their lives are in God's hands and that he will preserve them, no matter what enemy is attacking them. "For thus said the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel, 'In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength' " (Isaiah 30:15).
To illustrate that, Isaiah further uses the situation of the tribes of Zebulon and Naphtali, whose lands were taken over by the Assyrian Empire in 735 B.C. They are, says our prophet, a people plunged into darkness, as every subjugated people lives in gloom and darkness (v. 1). But God will deliver those captive tribes! The light of the Lord's deliverance will shine upon them (v. 2). They will rejoice like those who celebrate a plentiful harvest or like those who divide the spoil from a defeated enemy (v. 3). The yoke of Assyrian oppression will be broken (v. 4) and the equipment of the conquering warriors will be burned in the fire (v. 5). Such are the promises of the first five verses of our text.
But Isaiah does not deal simply with the situation of two Israelite tribes in this passage. He uses them by way of illustration. And then he announces his message to all of Judah, who herself is threatened by Assyria. Judah has no faith in her God. When asked to believe, she has not, and she has said, "No! We will speed upon horses ... and we will ride upon swift steeds" (30:15). In short, Judah will vainly try to save herself, and never mind God. And the result is that Judah will become a vassal to the might of Assyria for over a century.
That's not too much different from our corporate and individual experiences, is it -- that we're always trying to save ourselves? Sure, we believe in God, but we're not going to let him run our lives. This great nation of ours will trust in itself -- its military, its economy, its technology -- those are sufficient against any enemy. And as for us individually, well, we'll go it on our own also -- making our own future plans, finding our own self-fulfillments, devising our own rights and wrongs, seeking our own well-being, and trusting God only when we have a little time and it seems convenient.
But can we not say that such views have led us, like Judah, to an awful captivity? Sure, the U.S. is a mighty and prosperous nation, but do you like the state of the nation -- with morals a shambles in society and one jam after another internationally? Has peace been secured, good Christians, and hunger and homelessness overcome, and warfare stilled and all God's earth made fair again? In our own lives, do we have now within our hearts that joy of which our text speaks? Or have broken homes and errant children and anxieties too many to mention undermined all joy and left us restless and disturbed? Have we all become good again -- not successful or affluent, but good? Are sin, pride, selfishness, and lying things of the past? And have we solved the problems of our death and our fear of painful dying? Our text for this Christmas Eve announces to us light and joy. Is that what we have at this Christmastime, or are they tinged this day with darkness?
Perhaps the same good news that the prophet Isaiah announces to his people is that which we need to hear in our situation -- that knowing our circumstances, our Lord God has nevertheless come to deliver us. No, we are not very faithful people, are we? No, we have not trusted always in God instead of in ourselves. No, we have not sought our life in returning and resting in him. But to our "No" God has said his all-powerful "Yes!" And Isaiah emphasizes that with one little word -- "For," because, nevertheless!
"FOR to us a child is born, to us a son is given." And not just any child and not just any son, but rather the one who actually rules our tattered and tangled lives. "The government will be upon his shoulders." He will rule from the throne of David. God has sent his Messiah, his anointed king, his long-awaited Savior. And we no longer have to make our blind way through the darkness of a sin-shadowed world.
We can trust Christ; we can trust the Messiah. Why? Because he is the heaven-sent Wonderful Counselor, who makes careful plans for his world and for us, and who has the power to put those plans into effect. Because he is, in his person, Mighty God, the incarnation of the One who created the cosmos, and who can never be defeated by the power of human sin or the finality of the grave. But oh, how merciful he is, good Christians, because he is also our Father-Forever, watching over nations and even each of us, and tenderly ministering to all our needs -- binding up our hurts, stilling our fears, comforting us in all our suffering, and instilling in our hearts a peace that passes all understanding. Peace, because he also is the Prince of Peace, coming into our war-bloodied world not with sword and battle-cry, but with quietness and confidence and the victorious strength of God.
The Messiah comes to rule our lives, as he came from God on that first Christmas Eve, and now he asks of us but one thing -- our unshakable trust in him. Trust that knows that we are not on our own, but that our lives are held secure in his hands. Trust that his is a rule that never can be overcome and that his kingdom will be forever. Trust that love, justice, righteousness are the manner of his rule, and that he wants for us only life and good. Trust that God in his merciful zeal for our salvation has sent us a Savior. That's what Christmas is all about, good Christians. Trust. And if we have that trust, or will find it this day, Christmas will also be about joy.
Furthermore, these are the occasions when the nave is probably packed, and a good many of those present for these services will not be around at any other time of the year. They are the so-called "C and E people." Yet because they are present for these services, we preachers rightly feel we have a grand opportunity to reach these people who are only marginally affiliated with the church. Twice a year -- and only twice -- we have an opportunity to reach them.
But we have to be careful! The typical C and E attenders have little or no orientation to the faith. You dare not assume anything. They may not even know the fundamentals of Christian life and faith. Christmas and Easter are rich with subtle theological themes and profound spiritual messages. But we need to take care that we do not go over the heads of these twice-a-year attenders. So, what are we to do in our sermons for the Nativity services?
Certainly Christmas Eve is not the time to try to be crafty and attempt to wow the congregation with our own creativity. The Nativity is creative in and of itself. The event definitely doesn't need us to turn it into something worthy of pop television. Our task is to be faithful to the occasion and to articulate still again the fundamental message of the birth of Christ. There is something to be said for the rehearsal of the basic Christmas story, even if it is the same year after year. It is a story that never grows old and telling it again may be newly inspiring. Someone has said that the familiar helps the preacher into the lives of the listeners, and once there we can shed new light on the old, old story. So, how might we approach these lessons in a way that will allow us to open some new vistas for the congregation?
The lessons from Isaiah and Luke both refer to a shining. The prophet writes, "Those who lived in a land of deep darkness -- on them light has shined" (Isaiah 9:2). Luke's famous account of the angelic appearances to shepherds on the night of Jesus' birth refers to "the glory of the Lord" that "shone around" the angels (2:8). The image of light and darkness seems to reside deep in the human subconscious, since this image appears in so many different religious traditions. Furthermore, it continues to be a powerful metaphor. The absence of light may still be an apt way of speaking of our sense of the overwhelming presence of evil. On the other hand, light seems an appropriate metaphor for the gift of insight and the appearance of some evidence of the good. We may often feel that we live in a world trapped in a dark and empty cosmos without evidence of goodness. On those occasions, a shining indicates some hope, some favorable possibility, or some illumination of a way out of the darkness.
Christmas is the experience of a shining for lots of us. Some may not have any sense of hope that carries them through the whole year. But at Christmastime there is something in that old story that casts a light of hope in our world. The Nativity of our Lord is a shining -- an illumination for a darkened world.
Isaiah 9:2-7
Naming Christmas Eve a shining may be credited in large part to this lesson. Actually, however, this passage has had two lives. Its first life was lived in the original setting in which the words were written. In most likelihood, this passage was part of the inauguration of King Hezekiah (715-687 B.C.E.) late in the eighth century. He was hailed as a fresh beginning for the beleaguered people of Judah. The words are an expression of the hope some gained from this new king's enthronement. You might say that the passage is like a speech made at the inauguration of a new president whom many hope will bring a resolution to all of our problems. And, indeed, Isaiah was right in hailing the empowerment of this new king. Hezekiah is credited with a significant religious reform in Judah. However, he later started a rebellion against the Assyrians' oppression of Judah which was a colossal failure. Second Kings 18 recounts how the Assyrian forces repressed the rebellion Hezekiah initiated.
The second life of this passage arose in the context of the Christian community. The passage was resurrected perhaps first of all by Matthew, who used verses 1 and 2 as one of the famous "prophecy fulfillment" passages of that Gospel (Matthew 4:15-16). The first evangelist reinterpreted the beginning of Jesus' ministry in Galilee with these words from Isaiah. The theme of darkness and walking in darkness was common in early Christian writings (e.g., Romans 2:19 and Ephesians 5:8). Then, of course, this passage became an Old Testament reading for the celebration of the Nativity of our Lord. Once again, Handel contributed to the reinterpretation of an Old Testament passage by including verses 6-7 in the Messiah. Today in Christian churches Isaiah's words are almost synonymous with the Christmas celebration itself.
Two very different lives, yet both have validity. The passage has two distinctive parts. In the first (vv. 2-5) the prophet declares that hope is blossoming where there has been only despair. For the first time in a long time, the people can feel joyful. Moreover, they can dare to dream for release from oppression and the end of warfare. The reason for this radical change is explained in verses 6-7. The "son" given to the people is the new king, Hezekiah, and his "birth" (i.e., coronation) provides them a new lease on life. The nature of this new king's rule is depicted, first, with the assurance that God has given him authority to rule and, second, with the promise that his authority will increase as he continues to rule. He will not be like other rulers whose only authority was their own ambitions. The names of this new king are impressive: Counselor, God, Father, and Prince of peace; and the characteristics of his rule include peace, justice, and righteousness. The last sentence drills all of this home. The just and authoritative rule of this new king is not his own doing; it is something God is doing. God's commitment to the people and their well-being (that is, the divine zeal) will cause all this to come about.
We can understand the enthusiasm with which Isaiah responded to Hezekiah's coronation, and in large part it was justified. But it was but a brief shining of light in Judah's darkened world. Hezekiah was able to bring about religious reform, but he was never able to free Judah from oppression. So, his reign was only partially successful. Indeed, one might ask what good is religious reform if the people remained captives of the Assyrians. In Hezekiah a light shined for a time, even though it never eliminated the darkness.
In its second life, the passage announces the shining occasioned by the appearance of Christ -- the advent of the long-expected Messiah. It is the shining of the One who himself is the light, who indeed is God and the prince of peace. In faith, we have found light for our darkness in this world and a sort of peace that is different from the peace Judah sought through a new king. Above all, the light of Christ's appearing was something God was accomplishing. The divine love "will do this."
In no way should we claim that we Christians have found the true meaning of Isaiah's words. All we can claim is the freedom to read this passage in the context of our faith and to find in it a way of understanding what God was doing in the appearance of Christ. And we can claim by faith, against all of the evidence that may point in the opposite direction, that there is more than a brief shining in this divine appearance. In all honesty, however, we must admit that the shining of the Nativity is for many people a brief and passing experience of light. It is for some a shining but not a continuous light.
Titus 2:11-14
In this brief lesson we may discover a way of speaking of the Christmas shining in other words. In a sense, this seems a strange reading for Christmas Eve. There is no reference to the birth of Christ, and the words seem to have no immediate relevance for the celebration of the Nativity. Titus is one of the so-called "pastoral epistles," sometimes attributed to Paul and sometimes to one of Paul's disciples. One of the themes of this little epistle is the necessity to stand firm in teaching "sound doctrine." (See 2:1.) Our reading is plucked out of the context of the author's exhortation that the first reader (a congregational leader) persist in preserving the traditional faith.
These verses offer a condensed and small spontaneous affirmation of faith that covers much of what we believe happened in the birth of Christ. The affirmation may be read as a four-part assertion. It begins with the declaration of what has happened in the past. One of the definitive features of God occurred -- became an event -- in history. God's propensity to shower humans with unmerited love became evident in the Christ event. Furthermore, the evidence of that divine attribute enabled our salvation. Our right relationship with our Creator was made possible by the powerful inbreaking of God's grace.
The second part of this affirmation explores the fact that this new relationship made possible by divine grace evokes new life out of humans (v. 12). The author suggests that grace trains us to live moral lives, as if grace is experienced as a teacher or mentor. The reference to "the present age" hints at the affirmation's third part, which has to do with our hope for another age (v. 13). Our hopes are pinned on the promise of a future appearance of Christ and the revelation of the honor and worthiness of God. The fourth and final movement of this mini-faith-statement has to do with what Christ did for us to make all the previous parts of the affirmation possible (v. 14). He surrendered his life so that humans might be redeemed from all that distorts our lives and so that we might be made into his own people who live the grace that appeared in him.
This compact digest of Christian faith looks different when it is sandwiched between the first reading and the Gospel lesson. (The lectionary always creates a new interpretative context for a passage by setting it in relationship with two other lessons and a Psalm.) In this context, the author of Titus suggests that Christ's appearance was a shining of grace in lives imprisoned by mighty forces that separate us from our Creator and from our true selves. "For the grace of God appeared ..." means that in Christ's birth a fundamentally different reality came into being. That reality transformed human lives by a shining that enlightened God and consequently enlightened our existence. When we understand God better, we also understand ourselves better.
We might compare this shining to a flash of insight into the character of a parent. It's like a brief moment when we see one of our parents in a different light. You may already know this story; it is one of those that travels the pulpit circuit. Nonetheless, it is worth briefly retelling to make our point. The little boy knew his father to be a stern and distant parent who seldom showed much affection or even much emotion. On one occasion, however, he saw his father in a different light. There were dinner guests seated around the table, and the occasion had an air of formality but with a certain sense of cheer as well. The little boy reached for the butter and accidently knocked over his water glass. In horror, he looked at his father, expecting the worst. His father first looked shocked. Then gradually the corners of his lips began to curve ever so slowly upward. With that faint glimmer of a smile still on his face, the father reached out and with a wave of his hand knocked his own water glass over. By then all the adult guests were laughing. One by one they too pushed over their glasses of water.
It was a shining -- a moment when suddenly the child saw his parent in a new way. A shining of grace, where once there was thought to be only stern judgment. The author of Titus hints that Christ was a shining -- a moment when the grace of God appeared to us and made all the difference in the world.
Luke 2:1-20
The shining Luke mentions is of a different type. There in the darkness of night the shepherds were suddenly confronted with an angel. Then "the glory of the Lord shone around them and they were terrified" (v. 9). Luke suggests that the shining of the Christmas event was God's presence breaking into the world, much as the author of Titus says that the grace of God appeared. But we need to see this feature of the Lukan story in its larger context.
Luke's famous story of the birth of Jesus is so familiar that we may miss its poignant simplicity. The story tells of the holy family's journey to Nazareth to register for a census. There Mary gave birth to the child whose conception had been announced to her earlier. How simply the birth is told, almost as if it is a sidebar to the story (vv. 6-7).
Then, however, the scene suddenly shifts to the shepherds on the hillside. Familiarity with this story has numbed us to the way the story now works its magic. The shift from the newborn infant to the shepherds is terribly abrupt, like a surprising new camera shot breaking into what the viewer thinks is really the crucial event in a story. Our romanticizing of the story results, too, in the loss of the importance of these new characters. Far from our popular picture of shepherds, in the first century they were regarded as suspicious and unscrupulous vagabonds. They wandered about the countryside, seeking pasture for their flocks. They were not members of any community, except the community of shepherds with whom they worked. They would drift into villages from time to time for supplies and were notorious for stealing from the villagers and then promptly moving their flocks away to some unknown place.
To these socially marginalized, blacklisted, and untrustworthy persons comes the first announcement of Jesus' birth. Telling the story this way, Luke sneaks up behind us and jerks our attention to an important dimension of the narrative. The significance of the birth of this one who is to be the light of the world is first told to a most unlikely group of people. You would think that word would first of all be sent out to the religious and political leaders. But not so. Christ is born for the outcasts and the suspected, for the lonely and untrusted, and for those who had little hope. Moreover, the announcement is not made to these auslanders in an ordinary way. An angel, then a chorus of angels, and finally the bright floodlights of the glory of God! The story subtly speaks of God's grace without ever mentioning the word. Those most often thought to be unworthy of it are the first to be given the good news of what Christ's birth means for the world.
The extended Gospel reading tells how the shepherds visited the birth scene and shared the news they had received with the members of the holy family. The lesson concludes with the lowly shepherds going back to their daily routines new people. What had happened to them would change their lives forever.
Sometimes a shining moment does that, especially a shining of grace. We experience it; it passes; but we are different people because of it. We can only imagine how that little band of shepherds continued their work. How could they, after this shining experience? But often we cannot preserve a shining. It happens, and then it is gone. What does remain, however, is the impact it has on our lives. The shepherds could not remain at the stable; they could not travel home with Mary, Joseph, and the infant. They had to return to their sheep. However, their daily lives would never be the same.
Christmas is a shining moment in our lives and our world. We can't preserve it, package it, and keep it in our spiritual deep freezers. We let the light of the shining moment soak into our lives, and then we go back to our daily routines. Tonight we will leave this place to return to the newscasts of a troubled and violent world. We go back home and back to work, and there to relationships that may be strained and uncomfortable. We resume our lives in the context of daily troubles and hardships. But Christmas leaves its imprint on us. Like a laser beam, the shining of the glory of God's grace in the Nativity leaves us different people.
FIRST LESSON FOCUSBy Elizabeth Achtemeier
Isaiah 9:2-7
This is the same Old Testament lesson that was prescribed for Christmas Eve in Cycle C, 1997. If the preacher has kept back issues of Emphasis, he or she may want to look up the exposition there, in which the biblical contrasts between light and darkness were emphasized. But if this text is employed for the sermon again, the preacher will want to use a different approach.
If we look at the context of the passage, the words that immediately precede and follow it announce judgment upon Judah at the hands of the Lord because of Judah's lack of faith. In the eighth century B.C., that which God repeatedly asks of his people through the words of Isaiah is trust -- trust that their lives are in God's hands and that he will preserve them, no matter what enemy is attacking them. "For thus said the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel, 'In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength' " (Isaiah 30:15).
To illustrate that, Isaiah further uses the situation of the tribes of Zebulon and Naphtali, whose lands were taken over by the Assyrian Empire in 735 B.C. They are, says our prophet, a people plunged into darkness, as every subjugated people lives in gloom and darkness (v. 1). But God will deliver those captive tribes! The light of the Lord's deliverance will shine upon them (v. 2). They will rejoice like those who celebrate a plentiful harvest or like those who divide the spoil from a defeated enemy (v. 3). The yoke of Assyrian oppression will be broken (v. 4) and the equipment of the conquering warriors will be burned in the fire (v. 5). Such are the promises of the first five verses of our text.
But Isaiah does not deal simply with the situation of two Israelite tribes in this passage. He uses them by way of illustration. And then he announces his message to all of Judah, who herself is threatened by Assyria. Judah has no faith in her God. When asked to believe, she has not, and she has said, "No! We will speed upon horses ... and we will ride upon swift steeds" (30:15). In short, Judah will vainly try to save herself, and never mind God. And the result is that Judah will become a vassal to the might of Assyria for over a century.
That's not too much different from our corporate and individual experiences, is it -- that we're always trying to save ourselves? Sure, we believe in God, but we're not going to let him run our lives. This great nation of ours will trust in itself -- its military, its economy, its technology -- those are sufficient against any enemy. And as for us individually, well, we'll go it on our own also -- making our own future plans, finding our own self-fulfillments, devising our own rights and wrongs, seeking our own well-being, and trusting God only when we have a little time and it seems convenient.
But can we not say that such views have led us, like Judah, to an awful captivity? Sure, the U.S. is a mighty and prosperous nation, but do you like the state of the nation -- with morals a shambles in society and one jam after another internationally? Has peace been secured, good Christians, and hunger and homelessness overcome, and warfare stilled and all God's earth made fair again? In our own lives, do we have now within our hearts that joy of which our text speaks? Or have broken homes and errant children and anxieties too many to mention undermined all joy and left us restless and disturbed? Have we all become good again -- not successful or affluent, but good? Are sin, pride, selfishness, and lying things of the past? And have we solved the problems of our death and our fear of painful dying? Our text for this Christmas Eve announces to us light and joy. Is that what we have at this Christmastime, or are they tinged this day with darkness?
Perhaps the same good news that the prophet Isaiah announces to his people is that which we need to hear in our situation -- that knowing our circumstances, our Lord God has nevertheless come to deliver us. No, we are not very faithful people, are we? No, we have not trusted always in God instead of in ourselves. No, we have not sought our life in returning and resting in him. But to our "No" God has said his all-powerful "Yes!" And Isaiah emphasizes that with one little word -- "For," because, nevertheless!
"FOR to us a child is born, to us a son is given." And not just any child and not just any son, but rather the one who actually rules our tattered and tangled lives. "The government will be upon his shoulders." He will rule from the throne of David. God has sent his Messiah, his anointed king, his long-awaited Savior. And we no longer have to make our blind way through the darkness of a sin-shadowed world.
We can trust Christ; we can trust the Messiah. Why? Because he is the heaven-sent Wonderful Counselor, who makes careful plans for his world and for us, and who has the power to put those plans into effect. Because he is, in his person, Mighty God, the incarnation of the One who created the cosmos, and who can never be defeated by the power of human sin or the finality of the grave. But oh, how merciful he is, good Christians, because he is also our Father-Forever, watching over nations and even each of us, and tenderly ministering to all our needs -- binding up our hurts, stilling our fears, comforting us in all our suffering, and instilling in our hearts a peace that passes all understanding. Peace, because he also is the Prince of Peace, coming into our war-bloodied world not with sword and battle-cry, but with quietness and confidence and the victorious strength of God.
The Messiah comes to rule our lives, as he came from God on that first Christmas Eve, and now he asks of us but one thing -- our unshakable trust in him. Trust that knows that we are not on our own, but that our lives are held secure in his hands. Trust that his is a rule that never can be overcome and that his kingdom will be forever. Trust that love, justice, righteousness are the manner of his rule, and that he wants for us only life and good. Trust that God in his merciful zeal for our salvation has sent us a Savior. That's what Christmas is all about, good Christians. Trust. And if we have that trust, or will find it this day, Christmas will also be about joy.
