There is a story about a family that had a Nativity set that they put out each year at Christmas time. All the figures were put out except the Christ child. The Christ child figurine was kept in a china hutch until Christmas Eve, when it was then brought out to complete the set.  

The mother heard her little girl Katie, age 4, explain to Kevin, age 2, what was going on. Katie said, “Now Kevin, this is Mary, and this is Joseph, and these are the wise men and this is the shepherd. And Jesus is in the china hutch waiting to be born.” 

Here is the news for today. The birth of Christ took place almost 2000 years ago. The birth of Christ took place last night. Jesus is born in the eternal story of Christmas. Jesus is born again and again in our hearts. 

Probably your home doesn’t reflect much of the Christmas story right now. The floor may be littered with treasured gifts exchanged in love and appreciation. Your garage may be piled high with boxes and paper to put out with the trash tomorrow morning. Dinner is simmering somewhere with fragrant aromas. We are also simmering in the good news in the papers today that the Steelers have taken a new step toward the playoffs! 

Put all of that aside for a few moments now. What happened that first Christmas night? The story says that Mary had a baby—a no-name girl from a no-name town had a child who would change the world. Angels startled some lowly shepherds, calling the child “Lord” instead of “Caesar.” Calling the child “Savior” instead of “Caesar. “Unto you is born a Savior who is Christ the Lord!” 

Then the shepherds visited the humble scene in the town. After that, a super nova of some kind traveled across the sky and parked for a while over the stable. A small group of men (wise men? magi? kings? astrologers?) entered the place where the child lay, bringing gifts. 

After all of that, the scene went very quiet. What happened next? Probably Mary and Joseph and the baby slept. That’s how it was that night, I think. 

Now move ahead 12 hours or so. It’s just after 12:00 noon the next day. The family is awake. The child is awake, and feeding. What are Mary and Joseph thinking? What thoughts are in their minds? 

Luke says Mary pondered these things, treasuring them in her heart. Specifically what were her thoughts in the light of day? Did she ask, “Was it all real? Did it really happen? Was it only a dream?” The baby is certainly real. But what about the rest? She checks with Joseph. He can’t explain it, but he knows it happened. Yes, there were shepherds who came and visited. Yes, they talked about an angel’s song. Yes, there were wise men who came and told of a star. 

So Mary begins to reflect, deep within her spirit. Luke says she ponders. She holds her thoughts dear. She holds them close. 

What was she thinking 12 hours later? One writer says this:

            When the song of the angels is stilled,

            When the star in the sky is gone,

            When the kings and princes are home,

            When the shepherds are back with their flocks,

            The work of Christmas begins.           

Mary and Joseph begin the work of Christmas about noon the next day. 

PEACE ON EARTH 

Mary first thinks about peace on earth. The shepherds told her about the angels’ song. Can it really be a time of peace that is coming? Is that peace coming in that tiny child she holds so close? She remembers an old prophecy taught by the rabbis. “His name shall be called Prince of Peace.” 

Perhaps Mary lets out a sigh—a deep sigh. Her sigh is a form of prayer. She knew how troubled the world was in her day. She knew the bitterness of war and its hurtful ways. She knew the senseless ruthlessness of Rome. She asks her inner self, “Do I really think there can be peace on earth?” And then perhaps she ponders, “Is my son somehow a sign of peace?” 

And don’t we wonder the same thing, this time each year? Perhaps more so today than for a while. Can we bring war in Iraq to a close? Can it happen in Jesus’ name? 

We ponder. Is this the time? Is this the year? Is this the time when peace on earth will finally take hold? And we offer a prayer, “Make it this Christmas, dear God. Make it this year. Make it now.” 

A DEFINING MOMENT 

Mary probably also thinks that this may be a defining moment. This is not an ordinary day. This is not an ordinary birth. This is not an ordinary setting. Rather it is one that defines all life for all time. 

In various parts of the country there are certain workshops available for personal transformation. The workshops are called, “Defining Moments.” Mary probably thinks of the birth of Jesus as some kind of defining moment. There’s a quote from Kahlil Gibran that goes like this: “Now I realize that the present moment contains all time, and within it is all that can be hoped for, done and realized.” Mary could have said something like that the next day. She cannot understand it all this deeply. But she does wonder. May not this moment define and divide world history in a clear way? 

Is this not what Christmas should be for us as well? Christmas defines world history for me. Christmas defines the reality of God. Christmas defines the reality of God made flesh in Jesus. I still use “BC” and “AD” after dates. Christmas defines the importance of a relationship with God as known in Jesus. It defines the way God intended for us to live our lives. And Christmas defines the need for transformation—both personal and societal. 

There’s a story about a tourist who was in the Holy Land one time and purchased a ceramic Nativity set. When she was going through Customs to take the treasures home, the guard at the security gate stopped her. He said, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we will have to X-ray each of these ceramic figures.” 

“What on earth for?” she replied. “They’re simply a Nativity set.” 

“Yes,” he said, “but any of them could contain explosives.” 

The security guard was right. This setting could be explosive. Christmas is an explosive, transforming event. By noon the next day Mary sensed some of this. 

THE SACRED IN THE ORDINARY 

Mary also thinks about the nature of the sacred in the ordinary. There’s a story about a little girl who was helping her mother unpack and set up the Nativity. Each time she named the figures. “Here’s Mary. Here’s Joseph. Here’s a shepherd. Here’s a wise man.” When she got to the figure of Jesus in the manger she said to her mother, “and here’s the baby Jesus in his car seat.” 

Very ordinary. Very authentic. Close to what God intended. Most depictions of the nativity are not ordinary scenes. The child has a halo around his head. Mary is kneeling beside the manger. (How many women you know could do that, right after giving birth to a child?) The look on Mary’s face in most Nativity scenes is almost one of surprise.  

A clergyman, who was a teacher for many years, became a sculptor in his retirement. One of his works was a Nativity scene. He shows Mary holding the child in her quiet, unremarkable, day-to-day life. And he shows Joseph standing by with that “goofy new father” grin on his face. 

At Christmas, the Holy Family should be pictured in a very ordinary way. At Christmas, God became hands-on with us. Dietrich Bonhoeffer writes, “In the child of Bethlehem, the life of the world that is to come has come into the life of the world that is.” 

Bono is the lead singer for U2, making some headlines these days. He was one of three “persons of the year” in Time Magazine last week. Bono is also a fairly articulate theologian, as well as a musician. Here’s a quotation from him I really like: “… the God who created the universe might be looking for company, a real relationship with people…” 

At Christmas, we are all called to birth and cradle Christ in our own lives. We are called to wrap our arms around our faith. We are called to wrap our arms around others who need Christ. 

I mentioned earlier that I still use “BC” and “AD” in my designation of the year. The more politically correct is to use “BCE” and “CE”, meaning “before the common era” and “the common era.” One positive thing I can say about all that is that Jesus did enter the common era of life.  

Emmanuel means “God with us.” Emmanuel means God does not keep us at arm’s distance. God is with us with open arms and with hands on us. Mary may have sensed some of that. 

When I was in college, I lived for a couple of years in a fraternity house in the city of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. This house had a grand porch entrance of carved wood and an entranceway that was nothing less than spectacular. At the very front of the house was a grand staircase that came around in three different segments about eight feet wide. We used it often for celebrative occasions. 

But in this fraternity house there was also a back staircase. It was only about three feet wide, and it wound down a narrow passageway from the third floor into the kitchen. It had obviously been reserved for the use of servants when the house was built many years earlier. 

Jesus came into the world by way of the back staircase. He came into the commonality of your life and mine. 

I celebrate that with you this morning. And I believe Mary celebrated that in her heart, about noon, the next day, on that first Christmas.