"Find a child"-Sermon for Christmas Eve, Luke 2:1-14
As we have moved through Advent in joyful anticipation for Christmas to come again, my family and I have been watching the “Santa Clauses” on Disney+. It is a sequel, in bite sized 20 min episodes, of the Tim Allen series of “Santa Clause” movies. And, in this continuation of the story, the Santa Claus character, reprised by Tim Allen, retires after 29 years of being the gift-giving, sleigh-driving, jolly old St. Nick. And, he does so…he retires with his family to Chicago, and his kids are, perhaps understandably, having a bit of a hard time adjusting to “normal” life after growing up at the North Pole, with elves and animals as their only and constant companions. So, Scott, that’s Santa’s name before he became Santa, is encouraging his middle school aged daughter, in particular, to begin to make human friends. And, she wisely responds that he is also struggling to adjust to life after leaving the North Pole and that he too needs to start making new friends. And, in a frustrated sort of way that often pops out of us, when something about ourselves that is true, but we don’t want to acknowledge is set before us, Scott, the retired Santa, responds gruffly to his daughter, “I’m sixty and sixty-year-olds don’t make new friends.” He, of course, knows that’s not true the second he says it, and so does his daughter. The truth and some wisdom from the mouths of babes.
Now, I have heard people, both in positive and more dismissive ways, say things like, “Christmas is for children”. And, indeed, it is. I think of Charlie Brown and the peanuts gang preparing for their Christmas pageant in the much loved 1965 Christmas special. I think of my own children begging with great joy and anticipation to turn on the Christmas music even before Thanksgiving. I remember my own childhood Christmas eve’s unable to sleep in profound excitement for what wonder might lie all wrapped up under the tree. I think of the children at Foundation Communities Lakeline Station Apartments, their residents and our own, who run alongside us full of delight as we carol each year moving from apartment block to apartment block. [And, right now, I’m still reveling in the live nativity that our own children just so beautifully and lovingly created for us.] Friends, it is hard to imagine Christmas without the joy of children…a sort of magic really…that provides the wonder and delight on which this season seems to float along…a sort of altered reality that pushes back against the much darker realities that plague our sorely divided and sin sick world.
For, even at Christmas, for many people this time of year only means extra shifts at work, year-end closeouts, financial pressure to spend money that we don’t have to be sure feasts are held and presents are bought. And, of course, a time of year when friends and families gather only exacerbates the experiences of those suffering isolation and, often, reminds us of those we love and are separated from through distance, disease, death or divorce…and, thus, will not be joining our Christmas gatherings. And, of course, at Christmas our volatile, uncertain, complex and ambiguous world does not cease to be so. I recently read that there will not be Christmas in Bethlehem this year…Bethlehem…as the churches there have decided not to celebrate Christmas to stand in solidarity with those suffering in the war in Gaza. Christmas simply does not magically erase the suffering of so many of God’s children, whatever their age may be, whatever it might look like their life contains, and whatever part of the globe on which they live. And, here me say, such suffering deserves, it demands our prayers, attention and hard work as much on December 25###sup/sup### as on any day of the year.
And yet, and yet I do not believe the joy we see so clearly in the lives of children in this season of wonder and delight is naïve or useless, even in the midst of, again, such a sorely divided and sin sick world. On the contrary, I think such child-like joy and wonder is powerful and life-giving and transformative. Perhaps, I would say it is Godly and, further, in such child-like wonder and joy…lies the very hope of the world. For let us not forget that at the very center of Christmas is the birth of a child…a vulnerable baby…born into poverty…to a teenage mother and carpenter father…on the floor of cave…in the midst of blood, sweat and sheep manure…in what was considered an inconsequential corner of the known world, whose history was a story of exile and, often, violent occupation. And, it is in that very reality, with Mary, on this night, we are invited to gaze upon the wonder and hope of a child birthed into our presence…birthed into the midst of all the darkness and suffering this world can muster.
And, in my mind, we gaze in hope and wonder not only for who this child will become as an adult…but for who this child is…as a child. I know you recall that it is this child, Jesus, who will go on to remind us that it is to children that the kingdom of God belongs. And, I don’t think Jesus means only children go to heaven…or only children are loved by God…nothing like that. In fact, I think Jesus is not referring to chronological age at all but, instead, to a quality of heart and character that children naturally inhabit. And, I believe Christmas invites us, whatever our age, to also inhabit this quality of heart and character that both God coming to us as a child and our own children, really all children, are trying to teach us.
It was at Christmas time, right at about a decade ago, that my family took a day trip to San Antonio. We stopped at the downtown market to do some Christmas shopping. We were in a store with our children. Mary Ellen a baby still strapped to her mother and a three-year-old Amelia close at our side. When all of a sudden, my parental, sixth sense went off. Something was wrong. I looked down and Amelia was no longer there. I tore around the store looking for her with no luck. I ran out the door of the store and looked both ways and did not see her. One way was more or less empty of people, but in the other direction I noted a crowd gathering some 40 yards away or so…so I darted in that direction. The people where gathering around something or someone. I pushed to the front with my heart pounding, and there was Amelia. She was the one the crowd was gathering around. But, she was not in trouble or distress. In fact, she had her eyes closed, a smile on her face, with her hands behind her back…and she was singing…loudly and clearly. The crowd that had formed was an audience gathering around something like a street performer. She was singing “Part of Your World” from the Little Mermaid. “Look at this stuff. Isn’t it neat? Wouldn’t you think my collection’s complete?”. My first reaction was to run to her immediately and wrap her up in my arms and get back to the family as quickly as possible. But, something sort of woke me up, and, instead, I took a step back and joined the audience. With no fear or embarrassment, three-year-old Amelia sang every word to the song…to the very end. She then opened her eyes and the joyful audience of strangers of all sorts, ages and stripes began to cheer. Only then I stepped forward and she took my hand, and we walked back to the store peacefully…my heart slowing…like the whole thing had been planned.
You see, children remind us of the power of song to bring people together. For when we are courageous enough, like a child, to set aside our ego driven fear of shame and failure and, instead, make beautiful things together, especially in public spaces, people are drawn in, connections are made, and beauty and creativity are birthed into the world. And, children, looking delightedly to the Christmas ahead, reminds us of the power of anticipation…that is not getting so lost in the challenges of the present that we can no longer see the potential that still lies ahead. For the ability to unmoor ourselves from the complications of the present, even for just a moment, allows us to see all the possibilities that exist before us, which is the substance of hope. And, children do not see difference as something to fear. Instead, they relish new experiences and new relationships as opportunities for fun and learning. And, children make friends with ease, which we do need even at 60, because they do not begin them by calculating what cost or reward might be required by the new relationship. And, children, like Dr. King, remind us of the power imagination. For, whatever good we hope to see for our lives and world…always begins with a God-given dream. And, children remind us of the power of faith…for their belief that God really loves us and will never let us go is the place from which all courage comes. And, lastly, children remind us of the power of play. Psychiatrist Susan Linn writes, “Play is the foundation of learning, creativity, self-expression, and constructive problem-solving. It’s how children wrestle with life to make it meaningful.” And, GK Chesterton writes, “The true object of all human life is play.” Friends, at our very best, it is playing in God’s sandbox of infinite possibility and creativity that we get to do together in this family of faith. And, each grain of sand is made not of atoms and molecules but of love…the very love of God birthed into our world through a child…the very Babe of Bethlehem.
Friends, these are the qualities of heart and character that our children, all children, perhaps most especially at Christmas, blessedly remind us of…whatever our age…and not for our own joy alone…but as we will soon sing…joy to and for the world. For, these are the qualities and character required of all of us if we are to be Christ’s heart and hands…if we are to participate in helping the bells of Bethlehem be wrung at Christmas again…if we are to turn back the darkness and help heal the suffering of the world...if we are to participate, with God, in bringing to completion what was begun in the birth of a child some two thousand years ago…the birth of Jesus Christ our Lord…who we worship and adore this night.
So, as you gaze upon the babe in your own nativities, as a smile comes to your face as you watch children reveling in this season, as you imagine standing with Mary lovingly gazing upon the babe in her arms…may you be filled, from the top of your head to the bottom of your toes, with a child-like wonder, delight and joy. May you be quick to make new friends, even those very different from ourselves…courageous enough to sing out loud and create beautiful things with others…and always be willing to play…play together in God’s sandbox of infinite possibility and creativity.
This is the very hope of the world…begun in God’s child who comes at Christmas and who now lives in us…in us…the Babe of Bethlehem’s own sisters, brothers and siblings…for we are all, each and every one, God’s own children…those to whom the kingdom of God belongs. Amen.