Rev. Eugene N. Nelson, Jr.
The Community Church of Sebastopol, UCC
December 24, 2009 Christmas Eve 8:30 PM Service
Well, it’s Christmas Eve so what better time to delve into a little Greek philosophy! Centuries before the birth of Jesus, Aristotle insisted that God was immutable. That is, unchanging, untouched by the movements of the world. God cared, but not too much. For if God got too involved with the world, got his hands dirty every time the world shifted, then God, wouldn’t be God. God would be, well, very much like us - tugged to and fro by events, jerked around by the joy and pain of the world and its people. No, for God to be a real God, said the philosopher, God must be above all that, again, immutable. But if that’s true, then what the heck is God doing at Bethlehem?
What a great story it is, the nativity story as told by Luke. No matter how many times we hear it, it’s a story that just never seems to wear out. Even people who never darken the door of a church know about Mary and Joseph, the manger, the shepherds, the star, the chorus of angels. A great story and great story telling. The problem with it is that it is so beautiful and so utterly familiar that we are in danger of losing its shocking power. To say that God, the creator of the universe, the one who set the stars in their paths, is somehow fully present, born in a cow stable, in a dirty, insignificant little town, well it’s just something rather shocking to say, and something you won’t find in any other religious faith. Most deities, as Aristotle suggested, are known for their distance from humanity. This God, however, is distinguished by his propensity for closeness, for the extreme lengths God will go to in order to be near to us. When it comes to love, this God never counts the cost, never weighs the risk. When it comes to love, love for you and me, this God is downright reckless. I don’t know, are you ready for a God like that? Are you ready to love like that?
Some of you have heard me speak of Oswald Goulter. For thirty years he served as a Christian missionary in China. In post World War II China, when there was all the turmoil, really civil war, Goulter found himself in a part of the country that was controlled by the communists. He was placed under house arrest for three years. Finally, they told him, “We will let you out, but you will have to leave the country.” So he wired his home missionary board and said, “Send me money for my passage.” He went from China to a coastal city in southern India, where he then waited for a ship that would take him back to the United States. He was there for a while and soon he discovered there, in post war, southern India, living in attics and barns, exiled European, mostly German Jews, who had not been allowed to enter any other country. Well it was December. So he went to them and asked, “What can I get you for Christmas?” They said, “We’re Jews. We don’t celebrate Christmas.” “Yeah, I know, I know, but what would you like for Christmas?” They said, “One thing we remember in December is the German pastries. They were so wonderful. If we could just have some of those, that would be a wonderful winter treat.” He looked around and unbelievably there in southern India he found a bakery that could make those pastries. He cashed his check, spent it all on pastries for all these Jewish exiles. Then he wired home, “Send me money for my passage.” They said, “We sent you money. What happened?” “It’s Christmas!” When he got home he was actually criticized for doing it. “You spent all that money on people you didn’t know? People who didn’t celebrate Christmas? People who weren’t even Christian?” And he said, “But I am!” That’s the kind of extravagant, crazy, reckless love which we meet tonight at the manger.
If you’re looking for a God who is careful, safe and cautious, friends, you’ve come to the wrong place. For tonight we meet a God who is passionately engaged in our lives. So much so that this God is willing to share all of this life with us, stand with us, even willing to suffer with us and for us. As one author has said, “At Christmas the one who inhabits eternity comes to dwell in time. The father of all mercy puts himself at our mercy.” Hard to get any more reckless than that. Surely God doesn’t expect me to love like that.
When our grandson, Ben, was born about two and a half years ago now, I called my father, great-grandpa, “You have a new great-grandson.” His first comment, “Well, now I have someone else I have to worry about.” “Glad you could celebrate, Dad.” But he was right. I mean, it can be risky to love. If you’ve ever been in love, you know that one of the great challenges of love is just how much you should get involved, how much of yourself you should risk, how far can you go with this, are you ready for this level of commitment? Will this other person return my love or reject it? Could I get hurt here? It takes great courage and great strength to take the risk of loving. And we learn early, and we learn well to be careful and cautious. We learn the dangers of loving recklessly. How do I know if someone is not going to take advantage of me? When a friend or family member falls into addiction or gets in trouble or is on some self destructive path, I know I can’t commit myself to them utterly without running the risk of destroying myself. You wade into the mysteries of someone else’s life, particularly someone who is in great confusion, doubt or pain, and it is easy to get hurt.
Which makes it all more amazing what God has done on this night of nights. God has become flesh and dwelt among us. God has waded in. What this birth proclaims is that God does not hold back. God loves without limits. Aristotle may not like it but that’s the way it is.
And so my brothers and sisters, come and behold him. Come all ye faithful, and all ye who would like to be faithful if only you could. Come, all of you. Tonight, at least for a while, throw caution to the wind and have faith enough, hope enough, foolishness enough, be reckless enough to come and see for yourselves. For, in the words of one colleague, “The great promise is that to come to the One who was born at Bethlehem is to find coming to birth within ourselves something stronger and braver, gladder and kinder and holier, than ever we knew before or than ever we could have known without him.”