For A Child Has Been Born for Us

Scripture Lessons: Isaiah 9: 2-7 and Luke 2: 1-20 Sermon Title: For a child has been born for us Preached on December 24, 2019 Christmas Eve. Christmas Eve is today and Christmas Eve is a time for hospitality. We set big dining room tables and make room by the fire. Those guest rooms that most of the time are turned into laundry rooms are made guest rooms again so family or friends have a place to lay their head. This is a time for joining together and carol singing. I’m willing to bet that even those of you who have a designated pew in here where you always sit have made room for those who are joining us for the first time. All of that is good, because being left out hurts. I remember being in Middle School and finding out about this boy/girl party. It was one of the first boy/girl parties I remember, and I think I remember it so well because I wasn’t invited. Do you know that feeling? Whether it’s large or small, that feeling of rejection is one you never forget, but in this world of ours not everyone can be invited to everything, even on Christmas Eve. There’s limited seating, so it always seems, or maybe we could do a better job of making room. I remember so well my grandfather telling me about big meals his mother would cook out in the country where they lived. He grew up in a place called the Caw-Caw Swamp. His father was the game warden, and often men would come around to lend a hand. These men were unrefined, as men in the Caw-Caw Swamp tended to be, but as a son to the game warden, my grandfather enjoyed a level of gentility. His family had a radio, and one Christmas a man who had come to lend a hand heard a fine violinist play over the radio. The violinist was maybe performing at the Carnegie Hall or somewhere. This Caw-Caw swamp native stopped to listen and then declared: “It sounds like he’s got a pretty good fiddle, if only he knew how to play it right.” That’s a good story. A funny one. Another that I remember which isn’t so funny is that my grandfather told me any hired hands who were white took their meals in the kitchen of that house. Those who were African American took their meals on the back steps, because not everyone was invited in. So, it was with Mary. So, it was with Joseph. When it came to them that Christmas Eve so long ago it probably wasn’t because of the color of their skin that they were left out, but just the same, they had no room of their own at the inn. They were left out. They had traveled so far just to be sent out back to the manger. Still, they made the best of it. “She gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth and laid him in a manger.” Now having a new baby changes things. I can imagine that suddenly these who were left out of the inn are now in the position of deciding who gets to see the baby, and everyone wants to see a baby. I can imagine ladies who worked at the inn gathering around Mary. Maybe the inn keeper’s daughter peeked in to see who was making all the noise. Maybe the inn keeper herself wanted to come down with her husband to see the baby. Had I been Joseph, I would have turned them both around. In fact, when Sara and I were new parents, we turned a lot of people around. And even those who were allowed inside, we subjected to scrutiny. We made them sanitize their hands. Anyone under the weather was subject to a health screening. No one was allowed to touch the baby’s face or hands. We even bought these medical shoe covers that we made people put over their shoes before coming in to keep them from tracking in outside contaminants. That’s just how some new parents are. They act like they’re the first people to have ever done it. And we were guarding the door even to those who came bearing gifts. We subjected them all to scrutiny and put out a genuine spirit of inhospitality, because new parents are in the position of deciding who is allowed in and who is left out. What about Mary? What about Joseph? How did they do it? Who did they leave out? In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flocks by night. An angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see – I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place. So, they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger, But Joseph said to the shepherds, “Wait just a minute. First, I’m going to need you to put these cover things over your shoes, I don’t want you tracking any germs in here.” No, that’s not what happened. You know what happened, only have you ever really thought about it? From the very beginning it’s all right there. Before he could say his first word, already, the one who was left out of the inn welcomes all people to himself. In his moment of rejection, still he turns the other cheek. Rather than return evil for evil, though he is the stone that the builders rejected, he is the chief cornerstone of a new kingdom, where all people, no matter how lowly, have a seat at the table and are welcomed inside. That’s Jesus. That’s the little child lying in a manger. God incarnate. True God from true God, shining the bright light on the truth, that no matter how rejected you have ever felt in your life, the Christ child welcomes you in. Don’t you see? From the very beginning he knew that feeling of being left out, set aside, and looked over. And yet in his very birth he challenges any idea of limited space at the table by inviting the shepherds in. That’s a radical message of hospitality that challenges a core fear that rots the heart of our society. That’s a radical message of inclusion that even challenges some core declarations made by the church. The great sign of the shepherds who were invited to his manger bed is that there is more room, more grace, more love, more forgiveness, and more freedom than we had dared to believe. For we turn our back, while the Christ child calls them closer saying: “I was born for you.” We close our doors, while the Christ child invites them in. We build walls and fences, though he cries out to the entire world just as he calls out to you and me. And that’s not theoretical. That’s literal. You. I’m looking right at you. You. He was born for you. Hear the truth of that. “To you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, who is the Messiah the Lord,” and that’s regardless of how unworthy you feel, but what it demands is that you look upon other people the same way that God looks upon you. The whole world would change with just this simple recognition, for while our society is divided between those who have and those who have not, those who live in gated communities and those who live on the south side of fences, those who have papers and those who don’t have them, those who were accepted and those who weren’t accepted, those who went to cotillion and those who use the wrong fork at the dinner table, at the Lord’s table there is no partiality so how can there be any in our hearts? Christmas Eve is a time for hospitality. That’s because He was born for each and every one of you and each and every one of them, so make some room. That’s the change that’s required of all of us who celebrate the birth of this homeless, migrant child. Born of Mary, son of God, unto you and unto me. Alleluia, and Amen.