Christmas Day

I read a book a this past summer that conveyed a very simple message to the reader – that keeping a population in a constant state of fear makes it easier to be controlled.  Reading that book, then looking around at my world, I see how in fact we are encouraged to be in a constant state of fear, if not despair, at all times.

Newspaper headlines scream about the economic catastrophe.  Four days – four days!! – of  weather headlines proclaimed the arrival of a snowstorm and cold snap that is really neither unexpected nor surprising for our geographic location and climate.  If we don’t have snow tires, all wheel drive, four wheel drive, or traction control, we’re warned that we may not even make it out of our drive way without becoming buried in an avalanche of biblical proportions.

And for what?  Would this even have made headlines 60 years ago?  A generation ago, winter came and went with nary a peep.  I’ve read newspaper articles from 1929 and 1930 that do more to foster hope in these circumstances than the blithest financial commentator on CNN.

And that’s just local news, really.  Watch the international news and…well, if you can make it through the international news without strong medication you’re a better person than I.   Even human interest stories – the Duggar family, for example, who just welcomed their 20^th or 21^st child – are tempered by editorial and reader comments that spout off such gems as “don’t they know that many children is too many for the environment to support,” and “don’t they know they’re hurting their children by not allowing them the room to be individuals?”

And don’t even ask me to comment on the health and lifestyle news.

Fear. Fear that you’re not doing enough.  That you’re not doing something right.  That the world is coming to an end as a direct result of  you and your choices.  Fear that death from dubious circumstances lurks just beyond your sofa.

Even religion prospers from fear – throughout its history Christianity has certainly been guilty of promulgating conversion through the threat of fiery hell while at the same time condemning other religions that use the same tactics. In the Small Catechism Martin Luther begins every explanation with the statement “we are to fear and love God…”

Your Pastor would argue that most – if not all – of the problems of the world stem from 3 essential fears – the fear of sin (doing something wrong), the fear of sorrow, and the fear of death.  Because people fear doing something wrong they do nothing, because they fear sorrow as the inevitable consequence of love they seek superficiality in relationships and use others as they themselves are used; and the fear of death that leads people to focus solely on their own immortality – through money, wealth, fame – as the expense of others.

St John writes in his first letter, “there is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear, for fear has to do with punishment.”  The root problem of fear is that it is irrevocably tied with the idea of punishment or retribution for what we’ve done wrong.  Fear paralyzes us, leaving us unable to move outwards to engage in relationships and it freezes our attentions onto ourselves and we need to do.

And God comes into this world?  Into this world of fear the Eternal Word becomes flesh and comes to us?  Yes!  That is exactly what happens.  Into this world of fear and fright and terror comes a single solitary baby.  And this baby did not become God – indeed, God became flesh and dwelt among us so that fear would cease.  Rather than living as humans doing all those things that kept us from punishment we would instead become humans being in relationship with each other because that fear of punishment is lifted.

When the angels appeared to the shepherds who were in the fields, they brought with them a message that contained three instructions:

1.)  do not fear.

2.)  Look.

3.)  See.

Three simple messages.

Do not fear.  The shepherds were terrified, as would we be if the night sky over Spruce Grove was suddenly populated by a celestial chorus wreathed in blinding light.  But their fear also had to do with the fact that, by and large, the angels in Old Testament stories are not usually ‘nice’ – they wrestle with you, or are part of a ginormous army, or are there to test you somehow – they aren’t cute, round, cuddly cherubim that look like Morgan with fluffy wings.  They big, powerful, and carry with them the terrifying reality that God actually exists and in all probability is mad at you.

But that night, the message they brought was different.  Do not fear.  That’s a common message in Scripture; that combination of words – ‘do not fear’ occur some 400 times in the 66 books of our Bible.  But the angels brought something different.  Instead of “do not fear, because the Lord is with you,” they brought the message ‘do not fear, because to you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is Christ, the Lord.”  Instead of God being with them in spirit, in the form of those militant angels striding the field of battle God was with them in their humanity; in the great colossal theological mess that we label “the Incarnation” and let it be.

Do not fear, because you have a Saviour.

Look.  Go and look at where he is.  Your king is born, not in a palace or castle but in a stable, and laid in a manger.  Look not in the things or places of power in your world – where you are told the beautiful people are – but look in the everyday for the presence of God.  In the manger, in the pages of a holy Book you will find the Christ, for he is present with you.  You no longer need to seek out God’s face because that tiny, chubby face is looking right back at you.

And see.  See the glory of God and the presence of Christ in your lives.  Yes, there’s a choir of angels in the night sky forming a celestial combo that’s rocking the world.  But Christ is with you.  See him.  Because in becoming human, Christ was one of us so that we may find Christ in each of us.

One tiny baby.  “Call him Joshua,” Mary was told.  Yeshua, in Hebrew, meaning “Yahweh saves.”  The Greek conquerors of a few centuries earlier left their linguistic legacy with Jesus.  We call him the Christ – the Messiah, the saviour that was born that day – this day – in the city of David.

Not a delivered from oppression of an occupying army or the yoke of poverty – although these are indeed consequences when his message is taken and practiced and lived – but delivered from fear.  From the fear of sin, sorrow, and death.

We talk of death-defying acts in our culture as those extreme-sports junkies who ski down mountains or parachute with a shopping bag from 60 000 feet.  But those are death-inviting acts.  You are participating in death-defying acts every morning you wake up, because you wake up baptized.

To defy death is to love Jesus Christ, and to love Christ is to bear out the expression of that love in relationships with each other.  We maybe use different language, though – instead of death-defying, we call these things life-inviting.  

I’ve often told confirmation classes and youth that I believe there are three things that are needed to have abundant life – God, love, and community.  Those three things can exist separately, certainly, and even any two of them can coexist – but finding all three means finding everlasting life.

Do not fear.  For God is with you and among you.

Look.  For love is in you, and is a gift of God.

See.  Because you are surrounded by community.

You are a holy people; the redeemed of the Lord.  You have been sought out.  Go out and lift up your sign before all peoples: the message “Do not fear, for Christ is with you.”