Paul Walker CEC Christmas Eve 2012 “Inexhaustible Love for an Exhausted World”
We are here tonight to celebrate a birth, but I want to begin at the other end of
life’s spectrum. This is from an actual obituary from the Farmville, Virginia Herald
earlier this month. “Josephine G. ‘Jo Jo’ Helms passed away on Friday, November 30,
2012. She lived to the ripe old age of 87. Everyone said they wanted to grow up and be
just like Jo Jo. JoJo once said that if you were born an Episcopalian you never had to go
to church – and she kept her word. JoJo was an avid couch potato and everyday would
have her cocktails and her cigarettes followed by a brief nap.”
Classic Episcopalian! If there is, however, a church service that will rouse an
Episcopalian from cocktails on the couch, it is the Christmas Eve service. At our later
service the pews tend to double as couches for many who have already enjoyed
their cocktails.
But even if you are dozing or you are distracted by over excited children or the
list of things still undone, the experience of Christmas Eve still retains its magic.
The familiar hymns, sitting shoulder to shoulder family and friends, the King James
Version of shepherds who were “sore afraid”, kneeling in candlelit vigil as we sing,
“Silent night, holy night” all make the trip from couch to church worth the effort.
But what really makes the Christmas Eve service special is the story that we hear.
And that is the story of God’s inexhaustible love for an exhausted world –
God’s inexhaustible love for an exhausted world. For there is a sort of exhaustion
that often accompanies Christmas, whether it stems from overwrought, anxious
parents or under-loved and anxious people.
For example, I came across a Twitter feed from a guy who calls himself
“KimKierkegaardashian”, who mashes up philosophical quotes from Soren
Kierkegaard and actual tweets from Kim Kardashian. 2 favorites: “This year we went
for a Christmassy all white wardrobe, to cover the dark, insatiable void we feel within,”
and “always be open to new hair looks! They divert you from the passing of life &
postpone the moment when you shall have to face your conscience.” !!!!
This year, of course, carries it’s own painful strain of exhaustion with the
repeated cycle of violence. It seems that this year, more than ever, we need to hear
the Christmas story. And the story is this: out of God’s inexhaustible storehouse of
love, He has sent the exhausted world a Savior. As the angel told the shepherds,
“Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.
For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.”
The very thing we need is the very thing we’re given – a Savior, someone to save us.
Queen Elizabeth writes one speech a year one speech a year with no
speechwriters involved. The one speech is her annual Christmas address. Last year,
before she made her own Skyfall into Olympic Stadium, she said, “Although we are
capable of great acts of kindness, history teaches us that we sometimes need saving
from ourselves - from our recklessness or our greed. God sent into the world a unique
person - neither a philosopher nor a general, important though they are, but a
Saviour.”
A philosopher helps us understand life and a general helps protect life. But life
obviously includes suffering which we cannot understand and harm from which we
are not protected. Life can leave us not only exhausted, but also confused and
powerless.
Yet the Christmas message is “Fear not! For unto you this day is born a Saviour,
which is Christ the Lord.” And as Martin Luther preaches in a Christmas sermon
about the Virgin Mary, “God allows (us) to be powerless and oppressed so that
everyone thinks they are done for, yet even in that very moment God is most powerfully
present, though hidden and concealed. When the power of man fails, the power of God
begins.”
I’ll close with a visceral illustration of the power of God beginning where the
power of man is exhausted. A friend attended a Christmas Pageant a few weeks ago
to hear again the story of the Saviour’s birth into a world where philosophers and
generals aren’t quite enough. This Christmas Pageant, however, wasn’t the typical
children’s pageant with tiny angels and diminutive sheep. This Christmas pageant
was put on by the residents of an assisted living community – the average age of the
actors was somewhere between 85 and 90.
My friend told me that her tears start flowing as about 30 angels, many of whom
are literally confused and powerless, slowly dodder their way up front in bed sheets
with holes cut out for their heads and halos. But the extreme poignancy of the
moment really hits home with the entrance of Mary and Joseph with the baby Jesus.
Joseph follows Mary, inch by inch, shuffle by shuffle. The walk exhausts him
however, and half way he calls for Gabriel to push him the rest of the way in his
wheelchair.
Joseph is wheeled behind the ancient Virgin Mary, cloaked in faded blue. With
faltering gait, she ever so slowly plods along in languid procession. Bent, she leans
on her walker. Slung in between the walker’s supports is the baby Jesus, gently
rocking to and fro with each small step of the Virgin Mary. As the Holy Family
reaches the crèche, the infirm angels break into song: “The thrill of hope, the weary
world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.”
Merry Christmas. Amen.