Christmas is Cancelled in Bethlehem, a sermon based on Luke 2: 1-14, preached on December 24, 2023

Christmas is cancelled in Bethlehem. That’s my sermon title for this evening. It’s not something that I thought up to grab your attention. It’s an actual headline being reported right now as war rages in Gaza: Christmas is Cancelled in Bethlehem. In the city synonymous with the birth of Jesus, there will be no Christmas Eve services. Tomorrow morning, in the City of David, there will be no choirs singing. Those Palestinian Christians who have been celebrating the Savior’s birth for more than 2,000 years will not be gathering for worship tonight nor tomorrow, as the city’s priests have canceled public worship services because it is not safe to go out. With a war raging in the streets, Christmas is cancelled in Bethlehem. Of course, this isn’t the first time someone or something tried to cancel Christmas. According to our history, in December of 1864, there was no Christmas Eve service here at First Presbyterian Church. On this night long ago, wounded soldiers were recuperating in our Sanctuary. They were chopping up the pews into kindling and starting little fires to keep warm, yet I can imagine that on that dark night, one lifted his voice to wish another, “Merry Christmas.” Perhaps some dared to sing a carol by the light of their campfire. Maybe one raised a bottle and passed it around to celebrate the birth of the Prince of Peace because you can’t really cancel Christmas, not when Christmas is hope. Not when Christmas is love. Not when Christmas is joy and light and laughter. No matter how much work we put into it, Christmas is not the trees that we decorate or the presents that we give. While we all may turn our celebration of Christmas into something that requires hours in the kitchen and lights out in the yard, truly, what Christmas is now is what it has always been: the great celebration that defies all challenges. It is the great rejoicing, even in times of despair. Remember that with me, Charlie Brown. In A Charlie Brown Christmas, Charlie has been chosen as the director of the Christmas pageant, yet he picks out the puniest tree and his cast refuses to follow his directions. As he throws up his arms asking the question, “Isn’t there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?” his friend Linus drops his blanket for just a moment to recite from memory the passage from Luke’s Gospel, which we just read. The pageant was falling apart, yet Christmas can’t be cancelled. Even if the cast revolts, Christmas can’t be cancelled. Even if our homeland is plunged into war and chaos, Christmas can’t be cancelled because Christmas is the Light that shines in the darkness. Christmas is the Promise of God that comes in the form of a child born to a father and mother who barely have a roof over their heads. That first Christmas almost didn’t happen, and yet, it did, for no matter how bleak the circumstance, no matter how dark the night, no matter how desperate the situation, unto us a child is born. Our God is coming to bring Good News. Christ comes to us, is born unto us, even if He must be born in a manger or a battlefield. There is no cancelling Christmas because Christmas doesn’t come once all is merry and bright. Christmas comes because, despite all the darkness, there is Light. Despite all the warfare, comes the dawn of peace. Despite all the hopelessness and strife, despite all the conflict and despair, despite all the dysfunction and family drama, Christ is born. He is born unto a broken people to bring healing. He is born in imperfect circumstance to bring salvation. We forget that. We forget what Christmas means. We don’t have to pretend that everything is perfect. That’s not what this is. It rained on our live nativity, and we canceled it the week before last. I was so disappointed. It’s not Christmas without a family picture in front of the camel, right? That’s how we can all be. We all sometimes think that Christmas is all about getting it right. The perfect tree. The perfect dinner. The perfect present. The perfect whatever. Yet, last night, I had to make two trips to Home Depot because toilets stop working, even at Christmas, but that doesn’t mean Christmas is cancelled. Imperfect is what Christmas has always been and will always be. Christmas is wounded soldiers singing Christmas carols. Christmas is expecting the dawn of peace in a warzone. Christmas is gratitude in the midst of hunger and desperate need. You may know that every Tuesday, cars line up in our parking lot so that members of our church can place food in their trunks and back seats. Hundreds of cars. This year it’s been as many as 365 families a night. Each family who comes through the line has the chance to write a prayer request on a little sheet of paper. Last Tuesday night, despite whatever hardship these people were facing, most of their prayers were prayers of thanksgiving. “How can we pray for you?” the card says. Just Thank you, one wrote. That was her prayer. “Thank you.” Be blessed, wrote another. May God bless you guys. Blessings to all of you. Thank you for your kindness. Thanks, and God bless you. I went through the stack of prayer requests, and so many of the prayers of those who came to us for food were prayers of gratitude. Praying for all of y’all volunteers. We appreciate you! May you receive thousands of blessings!! Thank you for your help. God bless you with many blessings. I pray that God keeps all of you healthy and safe during the holiday season. Merry Christmas to all the sisters and brothers of the Presbyterian Church. Thank you for helping us with your food bank. Thank you for what you do. Thank you. Of course, there were also requests for help. One asked that we pray for her son’s salvation. Another, that he receive enough money. One for a mother’s health, another for a job. One for a family’s travels, a marriage, an upcoming surgery, for a son in the hospital, for wisdom, for the war in Gaza, for one’s wife, for another’s car, for sadness, for world peace. Another asked for prayers for she is homeless. Then one asked that we pray for his family, for his health, and his kids, and for God’s help, for “My life has fallen apart.” My friends, the One is coming who will put us back together. Should your world be falling apart, should your Christmas be less than perfect, tonight is the night for you to believe. There is no cancelling Christmas, for the Hope of this night defies all despair. Tonight of all nights, remember the One who is coming to save us. Glory to God in the Highest Heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors! the angels said. Early this morning, my friend Dr. Brian Robinson, who is the dentist to many in this congregation, sent me a poem by Madeleine L’Engle: He did not wait till the world was ready, Till men and nations were at peace. He came when the heavens were unsteady, And prisoners cried out for release. He did not wait for the perfect time. He came when the need was deep and great. He dined with sinners in all their grime, Turned water into wine. He did not wait till hearts were pure. In joy he came to a tarnished world of sin and doubt. To a world like ours, of anguished shame, He came, and his light would not go out. He came to a world which did not mesh, To heal its tangles, shield its scorn. In the mystery of the Word made flesh, The maker of the stars was born. We cannot wait till the world is sane. To raise our songs with joyful voice, For to share our grief, to touch our pain, He came with love: Rejoice! Rejoice. Friends, it’s not like me to wait to finish my Christmas Eve sermon until a dentist sends me a poem, but this is Christmas, my friends. This is Christmas. The perfect Child, coming to us, an imperfect people. We are always rushing without rejoicing, feeling shame when our God brings forgiveness and grace. He comes with love, so whatever you circumstance, whatever your mood, rejoice. Rejoice. Christmas will not be cancelled, not this year, and not ever. Halleluiah. Amen.