A sermon preached on Christmas Day 2020 at St Luke’s Maylands and St Patrick’s Mt Lawley
I start by wishing you all the happiest of Christmases. My prayer for all of us is that we come out of this season with a deeper knowledge of God: knowing more about him, and knowing him better.
Let me start by saying something about God! He is the reason we are here, of course. We would not be here, if we did not think he was real; or perhaps you are doubtful about that, but are here because of your grandmother’s faith. One way or another we all here because of God. But I am meaning something deeper. Why is there anything, and not nothing? Did you ever worry over that? Why is there a universe? “The Big Bang,” you say. But a big bang would be something—something that wasn’t at one moment, and then was at the next. So why is there anything and not nothing. Somehow I find it easier to imagine nothing that everything. I cannot get my head around how there should be a universe of things. But there is, and the only explanation that holds any water for me is God. Everything that is, is because of God. And if that is so, then God is simply the most important fact in the whole universe. We are here this morning because God has given us existence. More than that, we are here because God “exists” us this very Christmas morning. What I mean is, if he did not continue to will it, your seat would not continue to support you, your heart would not continue to beat, the air would not continue to convey the sound of my voice—quite simply everything would cease to be—like the matrix in the mind of a giant computer which collapses when everything is switched off. Like, when the bullet from a high-powered rifle pulps your brain and your whole universe of knowledge vanishes in an instant. So, I say it again: God is more important than anything in the universe, more important than the whole of the universe together. And coming to terms with God is the most important thing in any person’s life.
It has become fashionable to think there is no God. This is cool, but rather like sawing off the branch you are sitting on. “What need do I have of God?” The truth is, God does not need me, but I need him—for every breath I breath and for every thought I think. If he should tire of me ….
What then can I know of God? Think with me for a moment! How much do you think a cockroach knows about you, a human being? How much does he understand about your anatomy, your circulatory system, your nerves, your brain, the thoughts in your brain, your plans, your dreams? And how well do we understand him? There is less distance between us and a cockroach, than there is between us and God. So, what can we know about God? Absolutely nothing! – except what he himself reveals! So, has he revealed himself? It is this question that brings us to the meaning of Christmas.
Three writers from the first century of our era tell us of the entry into our world of someone from God, someone who knew God, someone who was God. “No one has ever seen God,” said one of them; “The only begotten God, the Word of God, the Son of God, who is with the Father, he has made him known.” I thought this year we could explore Luke’s angle on the story.
Luke was a medical doctor, a keen observer, a notetaker, who came to believe in Jesus, and turned his hand to writing history. He wrote in collaboration with a certain Theophilus, who offered to arrange the publishing. We don’t know a lot about Theophilus, except he was a Christian man of rank, and status, and wealth. Luke addresses him as “Your Excellency!”. Both Luke and Theophilus were from the educated elite of Greco-Roman society. “A decree went out from Caesar Augustus,” says Luke, “that all the world should be enrolled. He wants us to know that the story he is about to tell is a story that affects the world, and is part of world history.
Judaea was a semi-independent kingdom with its own ruler. King Herod must have decided to conduct a census in his own territories at the same time. This was not the famous census that took place in 6 AD after the the Romans took over and sent the incompetent Archelaus into exile. It happened earlier, and was a very Jewish affair. People had to go to where their family originated. For Joseph and Mary that meant a journey to Bethlehem, over 100 kilometers south.
Luke 2.4 So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth to Galilee in Judaea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David.
Luke gives an impossibly brief account. I can’t help wondering what else went on. There must have been a long discussion in Joseph’s household. Mary was many months pregnant, so maybe it was safer to wait and go after the birth. But travel with a newborn wouldn’t be much fun. But one way or another, they had to go. So, I think Mary’s words could have carried the day: “I am not yet near my due date; I am and young and fit. Let’s get going now, and we can be back in time—or we could even stay on in Bethlehem.” Joseph agreed, but not, I think, without serious doubts.
The donkey is not part of the Bible stories, but likely. They had 150 kilometers of walking ahead of them, and if Mary got tired she would need some help. And now they have been on the road for the best part of three days, and Mary has just had a contraction. Hopefully, it is a false alarm, but Joseph is worried. He remembers from the Bible readings in synagogue that two thousand years earlier his ancestor, Jacob, had travelled down this road with his wife, and Rachel had gone into unexpected labour. Rachel was the wife Jacob had agreed to work seven years for, and then was given her sister, and had to work another seven years. She was the joy of his life. For years she had been unable to have children, then, at God’s time, gave birth to Joseph. And now she was in labour again. A boy was born, but the mother died soon after. Ben-oni, she called him as she passed from life: “Son of my Sorrow”. Jacob called him Ben-jamin: “Son of my Right-hand.” He buried Rachel by the roadside near Bethlehem. A pillar marked the place. Joseph may have passed that tomb. The words of the synagogue reading came back to him.
And Rachel died and was buried in the way to Ephrath, which is Bethlehem. And Jacob erected a pillar over the house of burying, which is the pillar of the tomb of Rachel to this day. And Jacob proceeded and spread his tent beyond the Tower of Eder, the place from whence it is to be, the King-Messiah will be revealed at the end of days.” (Targum of Palestine Genesis 35)
God had promised them that Mary’s child would be that King Messiah, but in that family discussion they may not have connected the dots and realized that Bethlehem was the only place the child could be born—or was Mary’s enthusiasm to go, because she had been wondering about that Scripture and how it would be fulfilled. And now Joseph is having the same thought. But the angel had said nothing about whether Mary would live or die. Perhaps her work would be done when the babe arrived, and God would call her home. It was an anxious Joseph who led the donkey bearing his wife into the town of Bethlehem.
Bethlehem was full of travelers. One by one Joseph inquired at the travelers’ stopping places, but only apologies. Mary has another contraction. Joseph’s anxiety is reaching alarming levels. He has to break it to his young wife that an animal shelter is all he can find.
The place you visit today, if you go to Bethlehem, is probably the real thing; the tradition about it goes back a long way. It is not a stable, but a cave. Still, it was out of the wind, and not so bad when you got over the initial shock of horror.
Mary’s waters have just broken. I cannot believe they would have allowed her to started on this journey, if they thought she was anywhere near term. Jesus must have come early. Nothing like three days on the road, part of it on a bumpy donkey, to get things going! And one thing you can’t stop is a baby coming.
So, Joseph delivers his first child. But where to lay it? An animal’s feed trough has to make do.
Luke 2.6-7 While they were there, the time came for her to give birth. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.
Do you think this story was made up? A bit distasteful, don’t you think for the birth of the world’s future king: no room in the inn, an animals’ shelter, a feed tough? To us it may sound romantic, but think of Mary and Joseph! For Luke it signaled something about the future. No life of privilege for this king; “Foxes have holes and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” Mary must often have told him how he was born. One thing they got right in Luke’s view: they “swaddled” him – hee says it twice. I can only think that as a doctor he noted the one thing that was normal: the baby had been wrapped in strips of cloth in the recommended manner. And this was the sign God gave the shepherds.
The coming of the Son of God into the world was not without witnesses. But God chose the last people you would expect. Shepherds were a despised class. Rabbi Jose ben Hanina said, “You find that there is no more contemptible business in the world that that of a shepherd …” “They don’t know the difference between ‘mine’ and ‘yours’,” added a later commentator. They were notorious rustlers, and their witness was not accepted in a court of law. Luke makes no comment on the moral standing of these shepherds. The point is, God chose as witnesses a group whom others would never trust, just as at the end of Jesus’ story the first witnesses of his resurrection are women, whose testimony would also not count for much in a Jewish court. Do we think Luke invented this?
Luke 2.8-13 And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with great fear. And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.”
For centuries Israel has looked forward to the coming of a king, a Saviour, the King-Messiah, the Lord. But for whom does he come? “For the religious, of course!” think the shepherds. “Certainly not for us!”
But the angel is quite emphatic: he comes for you. Think about that! The rich, the powerful, the famous, the talented: these are the people the world showers its gifts on. These are the people who are invited to state occasions, celebrity balls, royal weddings; the rest of us can only stand in the streets. But the king of the world came for us little people. Jesus was born to save you! Ponder that!
And the sign to the shepherds that will confirm that what they have heard from the sky from angel messengers is real truth is a swaddled babe in an animals’ feed trough. What kind of sign is that? And yet that is how it was. And that is the sign over Jesus’ life, until the sign of death, the sign of the cross.
Luke 2.19-20 But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.
Mary would have been about 75 years old when Luke visited Jerusalem. Perhaps she was no longer around. But we know that Luke spent some time with another of her sons, Jesus’ brother. James was the leader of the church in Jerusalem until 62 AD when he was stoned to death on the orders of the High Priest. The story must have been well known in Jerusalem and the details could be verified.
As Mary stored up these things in her heart, I urge you to ponder these things this Christmas. Luke has a strange story to tell, and this is just the beginning. I would ask that before the Christmas season is over you take the Gospel of Luke and read it from end to end. The important, not-to-be-overlooked thing that Luke wants us to take from his introduction is the truth about Jesus’ identity, which we hear in the angel’s announcement. This child is the promised son of King David, who will rescue the world from all its ills, establish the government of God, and rule for ever. We should note that the language Luke uses here is political. Jesus did not come to start a new religion, but to put the world under new management—you and me under new management. You must decide whether this is who he really is and whether you will bow to him today.
God is real. In him we live and have our being. And he is not silent; he has spoken. He has spoken in many ways: through nature and through prophets, but most clearly and perfectly when he visited his own world in the person of his Son, the Lord Jesus Christ. Luke tells his story, and it is a strange story, ending in rejection and death, but recommencing with an empty tomb and an announcement of his kingdom. It is a story his followers struggled to understand as it unfolded piece by piece before their eyes. It was not until the end that they could look back and understand what had happened. Luke wants us to understand from the start—to be able to examine each piece along the way and decide if it will carry the weight. So, he tells us at the outset who Jesus is—his true identity. And then he tells us enough of the circumstances of his birth for us to see that this is no ordinary king, no privileged potentate we are never likely to know in person, and who will never know us. This king comes to identify with ordinary people—little people like you and me. Jesus lived and died for each individual member of his kingdom. There will not be a single inhabitant of the kingdom of God who is not known by him and loved by him, and who does not know him and love him in return. I urge you this Christmas to make his acquaintance.