St. Paul’s Church in
Bergen, Jersey City NJ
December 24, 2013
Christmas Eve:
10:00pm Service
Isaiah 62:6-12
Psalm 97
Titus 3:4-7
Luke 2:1-20
“No Place for Them in
the Inn”
Merry
Christmas!
In
the gospel passage I just read, Luke writes, “And she gave birth to her
firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger,
because there was no place for them in the inn.”
“No
place for them in the inn.”
This
past Thursday afternoon I had the privilege of participating in the Fifth
Annual Interfaith Homeless Memorial Service, sponsored by our friends at Garden
State Episcopal Community Development Corporation.
Many
of the people who were in church that day are homeless, there to remember lost
friends or maybe just to enjoy the church’s heat, or to get the free meal and
the food and toiletries, like toothpaste, that were distributed after the
service. Or, maybe, they were there for all those reasons.
No
matter the reason, I’m sure everyone who was there would agree it was a very
powerful and moving service. Members of the clergy read Jewish, Christian and
Muslim scripture. And one pastor read the stirring, hopeful words of the great reformer
activist, Dorothy Day:
“What
we would like to do is change the world--make it a little simpler for people to
feed, clothe, and shelter themselves as God intended them to do.”
During the service we prayed and lit candles for the
shockingly large number of homeless people who died right here in Hudson County
over the past year.
This
year the service was held over at the Old Bergen Church. The church was already
beautifully decorated for Christmas – decorated with all the usual poinsettias,
wreaths, Christmas trees and the rest – not so different from St. Paul’s.
And,
at first it felt disorientating – wrong, somehow - to be having this kind of
service surrounded by all the joyful sights and smells of Christmas.
But,
then I thought, actually nothing could be more appropriate, nothing could be
more right, nothing could be more truly Christmassy, than drawing attention to
the plight of the poor and the homeless.
After
all, it’s on this glorious night, surrounded by all the joyful sights and
smells and sounds of Christmas, that we remember and celebrate the birth of
Jesus the Messiah, Jesus the Lord, Jesus the Savior. We celebrate the birth of Jesus,
born poor and homeless.
Each
year on Christmas Eve we hear the story of Jesus’ birth as told by Luke.
Luke
sets the stage by mentioning the Emperor Augustus – the one who much of the world
acclaimed as the King of kings – Augustus, who much of the world worshipped as
a god – Augustus, who much of the world thought of as the lord.
Little
did Augustus or Governor Quirinius or any of the other famous and powerful men back
in the First Century suspect that God was about to enter the world in the most
unexpected way.
God
could have entered the world with trumpets blaring and lightning flashing and
thunder rumbling.
God
could have entered the world in Rome, in the emperor’s palace, or in Jerusalem,
or some other center of political or religious power.
But,
instead, God chose to enter the world in the insignificant town of Bethlehem.
Instead,
God chose to enter the world through a “nobody.” God chose to enter the world
through Mary – a peasant girl the world would have seen as in every way
unimportant and unremarkable.
But,
God saw – God knew – that this unremarkable girl was most remarkable.
God
chooses to enter the world accompanied by Joseph, a good man but a man who
couldn’t even provide a decent place for his fiancée to give birth – a man who
couldn’t do better for Mary and the child than a manger – which sounds sort of
nice but is just a fancy word for a feeding trough used by animals.
God
chooses to enter the world and nobody even knows.
Well,
almost nobody.
It’s
the shepherds – low class people, for sure – who are given the inside word
first by one angel and then by a multitude of the heavenly host singing their
great song,
“Glory
to God in the highest.”
The
young peasant girl Mary must have been so, so tired – so tired after traveling
in a harsh land while far along in her pregnancy, so tired after the anxious
search for a place to give birth and so tired from giving birth.
And,
yet, Luke tells us, that the young peasant girl Mary treasures the words from
the awestruck shepherds – treasures this most amazing experience – and ponders
all of it in her pounding heart.
Of
course, this old, old story doesn’t end there in Bethlehem in the feeding
trough. There will be much more for Mary to ponder in her heart.
Eventually
Jesus – born on the margins of society - begins his ministry, teaching and
healing and declaring that God’s kingdom has drawn near.
And
eventually some politically and religiously powerful men of the world did take
note of this teacher and healer – this nobody that a only a small band of
disciples sort of, sometimes, recognized as king – and, sure enough, the
politically and religiously powerful men disposed of him on the cross – disposed
of him as easily and as bloodily as they dispose of countless truth-tellers and
troublemakers throughout history.
And
the politically and religiously powerful men thought that was that – they
thought that they and the world were done with Jesus.
They
were so wrong.
Three
days later, God raised this man from the dead. God raised Jesus, who had been
born to a couple of nobodies and placed in a feeding trough used by animals.
And
it’s because Jesus is raised from the dead, it’s because love and life defeat
evil and death, that we are here all these centuries later, re-telling this old
yet ever-new story here in this beautiful place on this special night.
It’s
Christmas – a joyful time to celebrate – to celebrate like we’re doing right now
here in church – a joyful time to celebrate with family and friends – a joyful
time to celebrate by giving gifts, by singing, by holding tight to those we
love most in the world.
Maybe,
though, we can also celebrate Christmas – we can also celebrate the gift of
Jesus – by caring about and caring for Jesus’ own people, Jesus’ own people,
the poor and the homeless, the “unimportant” and “unremarkable” people, the “nobodies,”
for whom there is still no place in the inn.
Jesus
is surely found right here in church, most especially in the bread and wine we
will receive in just a few minutes.
But,
Jesus is also surely found right now huddled in a doorway on Bergen Avenue, or
panhandling under the Turnpike overpass, or hoping against hope for a bed at a
homeless shelter.
I
mentioned that the other day at the homeless memorial we read a quote from
Dorothy Day. Here’s how that quote ends. May it be our prayer on Christmas, and
always.
“… There is nothing we can do but love, and, dear God, please
enlarge our hearts to love each other, to love our neighbor, to love our enemy
as our friend.”
Merry
Christmas to you all.
Amen.
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