St. Paul’s Church in
Bergen & Church of the Incarnation, Jersey City NJ
December 24, 2017
Christmas Eve
Isaiah 62:6-12
Psalm 97
Titus 3:4-7
Luke 2:1-20
This Demented Inn
Merry
Christmas everyone!
Well,
tonight this is certainly the place to be, isn’t it?
This
is the place to be because so many people have worked so hard to make
this old building look its best – there’s been a whole lot of cleaning, and
decorating, and polishing, and rehearsing, and setting up, going on these past
few days.
This
is the place to be because we get to hear all of this gorgeous music and
we get to just soak it in beside people we’ve known for years and also people
we may never have seen before – people who go to church all the time and people
who never do - all gathered here tonight for a glimpse of beauty – all gathered
here tonight for a word of hope.
And,
tonight this is the place to be because of the story – this old, old
story that never seems to grow tired – this old, old story of the world caught
up, as usual, in its business – in its business of counting heads and making
money and gaining power - business that seems oh so very important – while off
to the side, hidden in the corner, noticed by almost nobody – God enters the
world in a new and unprecedented and unexpected way.
Through a couple
of “nobodies” named Mary and Joseph, God’s Light shines into a very shadowy
world.
Merry
Christmas!
As
I’ve thought about the Christmas story, I’ve realized that different parts of
the story speak to me more clearly, more powerfully, depending on what’s going
on in my life – and depending on what’s going on in the world.
This
year my mind and my heart keep circling back to the still shocking and
heartbreaking truth of “no place for them in the inn.”
The
God who dreamed up all that is – the God who sustains every galaxy, every
orbit, every breath, every molecule - that God enters our world – enters
our humanity – and right from the start this God is pretty much turned away –
the best we are willing to do is offer a stable or a cave – and a feeding
trough meant for animals has to double as a crib.
No
place in the inn – no room for Christ in our world.
The
other day I came across a quote from the great 20th Century monk and
spiritual writer Thomas Merton that I’d like to share with you tonight.
Merton
writes, “Into this world, this demented inn, in which there is
absolutely no room for him at all, Christ has come uninvited. But because he
cannot be at home in it, because he is out of place in it, and yet he must be
in it, his place is with those others for whom there is no room. His place is
with those who do not belong, who are rejected by power because they are
regarded as weak, those who are discredited, who are denied the status of
persons, tortured, exterminated. With those for whom there is no room, Christ
is present in this world."
“With those for whom there is no
room, Christ is present in the world.”
I have no doubt that Christ is
present with us here tonight – present in the beauty of our worship, present in
the people beside us, present in the Word and the music and especially present
in the Bread and Wine that we will soon receive.
Yes, Christ is present here, but I
wonder if Christ is not completely comfortable here – kind of like a man not
used to wearing a suit and tie, tugging at his collar – or a woman not used to
wearing a dress feeling self-conscious – or a baby wearing a frilly baptismal
gown and howling her head off.
Yes, Christ is present here in this
sacred space, but Christ is most at home, most comfortable with, his best
friends - with the other people for whom there is no room, the other people who
do not belong, the other people who are turned away from the demented inn that
is our world.
On Thursday over at Old Bergen
Church, as we do each year, we held our interfaith homeless memorial service,
reading the names of the dead and offering care packages (including the 558
pairs of socks we donated) and a hot lunch to those who are still living on the
streets.
And, as I looked out at that crowd,
I thought, Christ is right at home here, here with the smelly and the
addicted, with the hungry and the thirsty, and, yes, even with those who are
always asking for money to fill a make-believe prescription or for carfare to
go visit an imaginary cousin down in the South Jersey.
And, tonight, by now the Christmas
Eve service over at Old Bergen Church is done, and Christ and his friends have
climbed back up on to the porch, ready to spend another night in their
cardboard camp.
And, Christ is at home with those
who have traveled a far, those desperately trying to escape poverty and
oppression and violence, leaving behind Syria and other seemingly god-forsaken
places, leaving behind all that they know and love to come to places like
America, places like Jersey City, hoping for the best, but not always receiving
it.
And, Christ is at home with those
who couldn’t quite work up the energy or the enthusiasm to get dressed and come
to church tonight – the people who don’t feel the joy of the season, not at all
- the people overwhelmed by the pile of bills and endless doctor’s appointments
– the people worried that they will
soon join those camped out on the church steps – the people so disappointed by
the way their lives have turned out.
As Merton says, it is into this
world, into our “demented inn,” that Christ has come uninvited, unwelcomed, and
barely noticed.
And, it is in this “demented inn”
that Christ hangs out with all of the others who don’t belong, all of the
others who are rejected.
So, yes, tonight and tomorrow morning,
this is the place to be – as we gather to tell our stories and sing and
pray and receive the Bread and Wine, as we celebrate that the God who dreamed
all of this up and sustains every moment – this God has come among us in
Jesus Christ.
But, especially now, in a time and
place so cold and frightened and mean and, yes, shadowy, my hope is that in the
days and months ahead we will head out and be where, yes, we will be
uncomfortable, but where Christ is most at home.
My
prayer is that by hanging out with and serving Christ’s best friends, we will really
be like those couple of “nobodies” named Mary and Joseph, who welcomed God in a
humble and out of the way place.
And, if, with God’s help, we even
just try to do that, then I believe
this time next year – next Christmas
- our world will be even just a little bit less like a demented inn and even
just a little bit more like the beautiful garden it was always meant to be.
Merry Christmas to you all.
Amen.
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