Readings: Jeremiah 31:7-14 John 1:10-18
We pray: May the
Word we hear today capture our hearts and minds and nurture our faith and bring
us closer to you holy God. Amen.
Today on the
second Sunday after Christmas, we take our last look for a little while at the
story of the nativity, the birth of Jesus into this world.
For those who
might like to have things arranged decently and in good order, the narrative of
the birth of Jesus from the Gospels is a bit of a messy affair. From the gospel of Matthew, we have the birth
in Bethlehem without the census, no shepherds, the story of the mages from the
east, and the slaughter of the innocents.
The family only comes to Nazareth after returning from Egypt. Mark begins with John the Baptist baptizing
Jesus – no birth narrative. Luke offers
the story of Elizabeth and Zacharias, John the Baptist’s parents, angels, a
trip from Nazareth to Bethlehem for the birth, stable, shepherds with more
angels and finally Simeon and Anna. We
negotiate our way through these discrepancies, pull in the date stamp of the
visit of the magi and voila we have the Christmas story as we lovingly know it.
Today’s narrative
of the birth of Jesus comes, however, from the Gospel of John –a somewhat
different approach but a birth narrative none the less.
Less concerned
with timelines, geographical identities or human endeavour, John instead takes
us into the very completeness of God the Word and encourages us to reflect on
the nature, the presence and works of God made known in Jesus.
This powerful,
poetic hymn to the person of Jesus captures us into a quite different way to
the traditional story and challenges us in the way that the Matthew and Luke
narratives might not.
And probably the
greatest of these challenges for us and the one I would like to focus on today
come in these verses: He was in the world, and the world came into
being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own,
and his own people did not accept him.[1]
The light of the world came among us – and we did not recognise him. Blindness is bad enough but John asks us to also face the accusation that we choose to not accept him – which implies some recognition I think?
The light of the world came among us – and we did not recognise him. Blindness is bad enough but John asks us to also face the accusation that we choose to not accept him – which implies some recognition I think?
Yet when we do
recognise the light, the exuberance of belonging simply erupts out of the mouth
of John: inspiring words of the glory and grace, the very belonging and the
vision, the gift of life in the coming of Jesus at the Word. We are bound in new relationship with God as
parent – not through kinship or human choice or physical birth - but through
believing we have new birth.
And then we have
some of the most poignant and beautiful words of the birth narrative in
scripture – to me anyway: And the Word
became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a
father's only son, full of grace and truth.[2]
It all seems quite
simple doesn’t it? We have a
choice. Believe or don’t believe. Light or darkness. Rejection or acceptance. Blind or visionary.
But when it
involves humankind, it is never that simple.
We manage, with a guile that only we can produce, to find ways to live
in the grey space – or a black space we think is full of light and vice versa.
In fact I am just
reading the Terry Pratchett/Neil Gaiman book Good Omens where an angel and a
devil reflect on the endless ability of the human race to take off down a wrong
path without any pushing at all. Similar
to C.S.Lewis’ The Screwtape Letters,
the propensity we have for sliding off the path of right living, of tweaking
our faith for our own ends, has the agents of the devil rubbing their hands
with glee.
And much of that
comes through our ability to justify our actions by quoting scripture. One only has to look at history and current
practice to realise how misused and misinterpreted the holy scriptures of the
three Abrahamic faiths have been. In the
Bible, the Torah and the Quaran, there are many instances of interpretation
being so removed from intention as to make all religion appear evil. We know
that almost anything can be justified by verses of scripture: injustice,
exclusion, hatred, killing…. We are surrounded by it.
So how do we
encounter and understand the Word of God without going down this path of abuse
and darkness.
The birth
narrative from John’s Gospel directs us to the light. He makes the point that the Word is not paper
and ink but flesh, come to live among us as the Christ Child. The Word is in fact part of creation, there
from the beginning, the light and life of all people, full of grace and
truth. It is when we encounter the Word
made flesh alongside the words on the page that we will come to understand what
living in the light means. When we read
the words of the bible without the presence of Jesus to help us discern true
meaning we are on a slippery slope.
There is a
painting by Rembrandt called the Holy Family – it depicts the nativity as if in
the 17th century and has Mary seated with a well used book
(presumably the Scriptures) in her lap, held open by her left hand. Her right hand is on the top of a rocking
cradle pulling aside a cover to reveal a sleeping baby Jesus. Mary’s head is turned from the book to gaze
upon the infant. Joseph works in the
background. Mary ponders both the words
on the page and the infant beside her.
And as she turns back to her reading, you can feel that her
understanding will be held in the strength of the Word made flesh. Back and forth: words on the page to the word
incarnate, spelling out the light of the Word in truth and grace.
I wonder if we
could think about how we ‘spell’ the Word to the world.
Using the words of
Thomas Troeger[3]:
How do you spell the word?
Where do you search and look –
amid the coos and cries you’ve heard
or in a well-thumbed book?
Hold back with the swift reply,
the pious, worn cliché
that softens how the child will die
when violence has its way.
Instead, let all you do
embody truth and grace,
and you will spell the word anew
in every time and place.
I wonder if this
year, we might look to develop a richer fuller faith by tending to both the
Word through words and the Word made flesh – the Christ who is with us in
sacraments, at the table, in prayer, in this sacred space of our church, with
us in our friends, with us in the stranger, with us in creation – since all things came into being through him, and
without him not one think came into being.
And so we say –
thanks be to God the Word come among us this Christmas time. Amen.
Margaret Garland
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