Sermons from St. Paul’s Episcopal Church
Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, 2007
The Rev. Melissa Skelton
Luke 2:1-14(15-20)
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!"
We had a Christmas pageant my last Christmas at Trinity Church in Castine, Maine. Written by one of our parishioners, the pageant had very few spoken lines, something we thought would lessen the performance anxiety of the children who were given specific roles in the play. And so the narrator, an earnest twelve-year old girl, did most of the talking as angels, shepherds, animals and the holy family moved through their paces, uttering the occasional line for dramatic emphasis
Little Chaz was cast as Joseph, faithful husband of the blessed Virgin, the Jewish teenaged girl who had said “yes” to the angel and now nine months later needed a place to give birth. Chaz was the shortest and most delicate young boy in the parish. Not much taller than a fire hydrant, he sported a mass of curly blond hair, and was allergic to everything, including the Christmas greens. That night, dosed with his allergy medicine and resplendent in a green velvet embroidered vest that his mother had made him for the occasion, he was ready for his part, ready to deliver the one, very important line he had been given to say. At the appointed time, he was to walk across the front of the church holding a small, bright lantern and to cry out, “There is no room at the inn!”
But as one might expect, despite the best efforts of our playwright, Chaz, the angels, the shepherds, the animals, and the Virgin Mary, herself, were all gripped by performance anxiety. And so when Chaz’s big moment came, looking dapper in his vest, he walked across the front of the church completely speechless while carrying an unlit lantern lifted high in his small and shaky hand.
Most of the people there that night, of course, were not aware of the line that Chaz had dropped, but I was. And though it was, of course, all just about a little boy’s performance anxiety, I went another way with it. I thought: how perfect that this little one in his stunned silence lifting high his unlit lantern is expressing just how shocking it is that the beleaguered couple could find no place of light and human hospitality in which to give birth to the Holy One.
Biblical scholars are quick to point out that the text is a little more ambiguous than the typical Christmas pageant portrays it to be. The word we usually translate “inn” in Greek simply means a room for guests, and so it’s quite conceivable that what’s being said about Mary and Joseph is only that they were not able to get the guest room in someone’s house, presumably because so many were in the town on account of the census, and so they had to bed down for the night in what the story calls a “manger” where the animals were kept, typically in an area under a house. This was the spot, according to Luke’s story, where Jesus was born.
For me, regardless of the specific place the couple gained or did not gain admittance to for the night, Luke’s point seems to be that Jesus was born into a family that, like most everyone else, was subject to imperial mandates, and that the birth occurred in a place of great humility, where the animals were kept, a place one would never expect a new king to be born.
And so Christmas is all about expectations—our expectations—that during our time on the road (which is at all times) that we will encounter hospitable inns or at least guest rooms with our names on them along the way. Christmas is all about expectations—our expectations—that during our performances (which is at all key moments) we will be able to remember our lines and light our lanterns to find our way in the dark. Christmas is all about expectations.
And so, God help us, at Christmas we both get to be in touch with our high expectations of ourselves, of our families and friends, of our churches, and of life itself. And we get to practice finding ourselves down with the animals instead of in the guest room or the hospitable inn with the latest amenities.
Poet William Stafford (whom I cannot stop talking about) taught many writing courses and talked to many students about the writing process. One of the questions he was often asked was what he did when he encountered writers’ block, the inability to come up with anything in the face of the grand writing we expect ourselves to be able to produce. Stafford’s response was simple—“I never have writers’ block,” he said. “I just lower my standards.” He was so attached to this idea, in fact, that he came to believe that the rough treasures that would later become the center of his most provocative works were found only in the writing he did in which he had “lowered his standards,” that is, accepted the material that flowed from him that did not meet his own expectations.
And so tonight, strangely, I want to tell you to lower your standards. Lower your expectations that the hospitable inn or the guest room is where you need to be for God to be born in you or through you. Lower your standards. Lower your expectations that your lines will always roll off your lips or your lantern will always be lit. Lower your standards. Lower your expectations that the Prince of Peace, the lover of souls, will be found in either the well-lit room or the perfectly orchestrated and acted play. Lower your standards. Lower your expectations that liberation, peace, or healing will be found in these places. Live, instead, in and from the mangers that God has made available to you, for these are the kind of places where our God was born.
So in a sense I believe that Joseph and Mary had to go to the manger to birth our Jesus into the world; the Prince of Peace and Mighty Counselor had to open his eyes for the first time in a place that some would say was beneath him, and we have to be willing to let our expectations go and to go to the manger and find our life there, find the new things that want to be born in us and through us. We have to be willing to go to the manger, the place of humility, the place of connection to our and other’s creatureliness, the place of our true humanity.
Lynn Adams took a turn on our new parish blog during the season of Advent, writing a kind of stream of consciousness description of trying to make Christmas ornaments by a group pf people special to her. The reflection is all about her expectations about how this would go, the reality of what it was really like and the place that it took her in the end. What you will here is a hodgepodge of thoughts, lists, and actions, ending with a haiku poem.
“The Advent of a Haiku” by Lynn Adams
“The most meaningful gifts are made by hand.” –Lynn’s hereditary credo
“What can I make for these dozen loved ones requiring minimum expense and time for maximum charm, starting December 10th?” – thought I had
Five Simple Elements for an Ornament
Circle
Crosspieces
Panes
Dots
Hanger
Supplies & Equipment
Wire
Felt
Circle cutting aid
Glue gun
Beads
Buttons
Thread
Fabric
Instructions
1. …with great enthusiasm
11. … anticipating total delight
“This design could be made in quantity for the native journey giveaway next summer.”
-thought I had
Went to Joann’s…
Things I learned in the 1st Prototype:
Rotary cutters will not cut felt
Cutting circles causes back strain
My eyes are just barely capable of stringing seed beeds
Beads on wire do not want to lie straight
Wire does not want to lie in a circle
Pearl doesn’t stick
“The overall effect will probably be ‘funky’.” – thought I had
Instructions re-imagined and re-ordered
Things I learned in the 2nd Prototype
Glue is unruly
Wire is stubborn
Tools are noncompliant
Thread is uncooperative
Beads are picky
Buttons are deceptive
Needles are elusive
I need new glasses
“I’ll be lucky to get six done.” -- thought I had
“I think my first prototype is cute enough to give.” -- another thought I had
Instructions irrelevant
“Maybe I should stick to haiku.” – thought I had
it’s all connected
thunderclap and nematode
you dear one and me
On Christmas, the strange story of a king born under unexpected conditions and in an unexpected place is God’s way of showing us that it’s all connected: divinity with humanity the Lord of Life and the Creator of the universe with all of creation, you dear one with me.
My best wishes to you all for a blessed Christmas
Works Cited or Consulted
The full quote from William Stafford is: "I believe that the so-called 'writing block'? is a product of some kind of disproportion between your standards and your performance ... one should lower his standards until there is no felt threshold to go over in writing. It's easy to write. You just shouldn't have standards that inhibit you from writing ... I can imagine a person beginning to feel he's not able to write up to that standard he imagines the world has set for him. But to me that's surrealistic. The only standard I can rationally have is the standard I'm meeting right now ... You should be more willing to forgive yourself. It doesn't make any difference if you are good or bad today. The assessment of the product is something that happens after you've done it."
The reflections of Lynn Adams and other parishioners can be found at http://stpaulseattle.blogspot.com/
