Sermons

Mon, Dec 25, 2017

A divine sign

Sermon for Christmas Day
Series:Sermons

I can't remember what appeared first in the shops--

whether it was the packets of mince pies...

or the rows of wrapping paper and decorations.

At first, though, it was somewhat subtle--

at least by modern retail standards--

given the increasing efforts to create an American-style Halloween culture...

in an effort to sell more lollies and chocolate.

But, since then--

since at least early-ish November--

there's been a steady build-up towards Christmas.

At first, it was the mince pies, wrapping paper and decorations...

blackboards outside butchers' shops encouraging us to order hams and turkeys...

and glossy Christmas sale catalogues inserted in newspapers;

perhaps, a little later... 

came the saccharine sounds of Christmas carols piped over P.A. systems;

Christmas lights started appearing in people's yards;

and the Christmas cards started arriving in our letterboxes.

As today drew closer...

the signs of its approach have increased in range and intensity.

Of course, as soon as those signs appeared...

we knew what they meant--

we knew that Christmas was coming.

In a sense, that's what 'signs' do...

they point towards--

or remind us of-- 

something else.

We see mince pies on the supermarket shelves and we know that Christmas is just around the corner.

But, of course, it's not as simple as that.

Signs and symbols can have more than one meaning.

Indeed, there are often layers of meaning.

At first level, it can be quite straightforward.

Mince pies on the shelves mean Christmas is coming.

But, at a deeper level, mince pies--

or any of the other 'signs' of Christmas--

evoke other meanings.

Such signs signify and enshrine a range of cultural values.

They evoke images of family get-togethers...

and the celebration of who we are.

They remind us of our shared history... 

our shared values and traditions...

our ethnic and cultural origins...

and our identity.

And, at this deeper level of meaning...

signs also evoke emotions.

The sort of emotions that they evoke...

of course...

also depend on our cultural values...

and our background and history.

For many of us, they can evoke a sense of comfort, joy, or nostalgia.

But Christmas is not necessarily a happy time for everyone.

It can be a very lonely and isolating experience.

It can be hard for those who have lost a loved one...

or if it's associated with painful childhood memories.

It can be associated with family conflict...

even violence.

And, for some, the 'signs' of Christmas can be profoundly upsetting.

I remember living in a suburb in Melbourne...

whose population was more than forty percent Jewish--

many of them Orthodox.

And I can remember shopping at a local supermarket...

and hearing Christmas carols played over the PA system--

including "The First Nowell"...

which, of course, has in its refrain the line: "born is the king of Israel".

For them...

as a 'sign'...

it was culturally inappropriate and deeply offensive...

and tacitly implied that they didn't belong.

But that's both the power and the problem of signs--

they can and do operate at different levels.

And, sometimes, we're not always aware of the range of meanings...

or implications.

 

In Luke's version of the Christmas story--

which we heard read this morning--

angels appear to some shepherds announcing the 'good news' of the birth of a saviour...

and declaring:

"This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger". 

Now, unfortunately, most of us--

when we hear those words--

picture something unique and extraordinary.

After all, we have grown up with traditions--

including Christmas carols and religious art--

that emphasis this birth as special:

Mary and Joseph shunted to a squalid barn...

because there were no hotel rooms left in town...

and forced to bring their baby into the world...

surrounded by cattle, goats, donkeys...

knee-deep in dirt and dung...

with the baby not wrapped in a clean blanket...

but in whatever rags could be found...

and placed in the animals' hastily emptied feed-trough.

It's probably unlike any birth that we have witnessed...

or imagined.

And yet, that's not how it would have been heard...

or imagined...

by first century readers.

For a start, there would not have been any inns in Bethlehem--

it was only a small town and it wasn't located on any main roads.

Rather than "inn", the word in the original Greek ought to be translated as "guest room"-- 

that is, an additional room in an ordinary house.

The author wants us to imagine that Mary and Joseph have gone to stay with their extended family--

with distant relatives--

but, because they're the poor, hick cousins...

compounded by the shame and stigma associated with her "condition"...

they have been relegated to that part of the house where the animals usually slept at night...

because the house's guestroom would have been given to relatives of higher social standing.

So, in a sense, you could say, it took place in the 'living room'.

And yet, that was also the place where childbirth usually occurred for ordinary peasants...

who, routinely, made use of the animals' feed trough as a cradle.

 

So, let's put aside any preconceived ideas...

and let's focus on what's actually there in the story.

In announcing the 'sign' that the shepherds are told to look for...

the first thing that we should notice is what is not said.

In describing the sign, there's no mention of some sort of mythical or magical conception. 

There's no mention of an actual location--

nothing except the fact that a baby is in a feeding trough...

and wrapped in strips of cloth...

just like any other peasant child in the first century.

There's no mention of the parents' names. 

And, strictly speaking, there's no actual statement that the baby... 

who is the 'sign'... 

is the same as the saviour who is born-- 

although that's a reasonable assumption.

 

So, what sort of sign is it?

 

As a sign, it's beautifully banal. 

It's remarkably unremarkable. 

It's completely commonplace. 

There's nothing special about it at all

There's nothing out of the ordinary. 

The sign of God's presence, of God's salvation, is a boringly, ordinary birth. 

 

On a deeper level, then, what's the significance of such a mundane sign?

What is this sign saying to us? 

 

Well, if a seemingly ordinary birth is the sign of God's presence, of God's salvation... 

then, in a sense, any birth can be. 

The very act of new life--

of life giving--

is a sign to us of God's presence, of God's salvation. Incarnation, in a sense, becomes an every-day occurrence. 

Every human life points us towards the presence of God in our world.

Every human life is an act of divine incarnation.

Every human life is a sign of God's saving activity--

for each other, and for our world. 

In every birth we encounter God's hope for the transformation of our world.

Perhaps, in the end, that is the true sign for us of Christmas.

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