“All the Way to Heaven is Heaven”
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
Someone once said to me that he believed the Church’s mission was “to get as many souls as possible into heaven.” I didn’t reply to that, but, no surprise, I would not describe our purpose quite that way. Yes, it’s definitely true that we should never lose sight of our ultimate destination, especially during Advent when we are meant to look ahead to Christ’s return. But, salvation is God’s work, not ours. In fact, throughout history, the Church has gone off the rails when it has become too focused on the next life, turning away from the here and now, the needs and hopes of the people all around us, the flesh and blood world that matters so much to God.
And, it’s because of Christmas that we know for sure that this world really does matter to God. Those of us who grew up in the Church, who know so well the stories of Jesus’ birth, may have lost our sense of wonder at this story, no longer seeing the mind-blowing implications of the transcendent God choosing to join us here on earth, not as a blinding light or a resounding voice, not as some kind of awe-inspiring spiritual being, but as a helpless newborn, completely dependent on a man and woman who were far from home, barely able to find shelter and safety. Perhaps in that moment Mary and Joseph doubted their ability to care for a child in such a harsh world, but they were, of course, the exactly right people for this holiest responsibility. God knows what God is doing.
Although there are plenty of fanciful and charming legends about Jesus’ childhood, we know almost nothing about that long stretch of time between his birth and when he first presented himself to John to be baptized. But, although we are unaware of the details, Jesus grew up among relatives and neighbors, no doubt nurtured and challenged by all of the joys and hardships of family and community life. Maybe people recognized something different and mysterious about this boy, but probably not. After all, later on, the folks in Nazareth had such a hard time wrapping their minds around the notion that this grown-up child of Mary and Joseph could be anything other than a craftsman, never even considering that this hometown boy might be the long-awaited messiah.
During his days of teaching and healing, Jesus used earthy images for the kingdom of God. He said it’s like a tiny mustard seed growing into a shrub large enough for birds to nest. The kingdom is like a father joyfully welcoming home a seemingly good for nothing son. It’s like the most unexpected person, the one who is hated and feared, offering generosity and mercy. Jesus insists that the kingdom of God is among us, here and now.
In church this Sunday, we will hear the perhaps too-familiar story of the angel appearing to Mary, announcing the most amazing news. Mary could not possibly have known all that would unfold in the years and centuries ahead thanks to her “yes,” but she knows enough to ponder the angel’s message in her heart. Mary would have known that God’s choice of a peasant girl to bear God into the world means that a kind of revolution was about to begin. Mary would have anticipated that if God is going to cast down the mighty from their thrones and lift up the lowly and meek, it will come at a great cost for her and her flesh and blood son. The cross shadows the manger. And, sure enough, on a Friday afternoon in Jerusalem a few decades later, it seemed that the hope born in Bethlehem was dead forever. But, God brings new life out of death. And when the Risen Christ appeared to the frightened disciples, he was transformed for sure, but still embodied. He even invited a doubting apostle to touch his wounds.
The pandemic has taught us just how embodied we are as Church. Back in the “before time,” we gathered together each Sunday, often sitting beside or near people we may not have known too well. We shook hands at the peace, with the more exuberant among us offering joyful hugs. I marvel at how many hands I shook every Sunday! We received the Body of Christ in our hands and drank from a common cup. We squeezed into Carr Hall for food and fellowship. I don’t think I ever realized how much closeness and touch we experienced, always taking it all for granted. That’s why it has been hard during these many months to be a “disembodied church,” mostly limited to looking at images on a screen, hearing voices on conference call prayer services.
Yet, with God’s help, we have continued our true mission of being the Body of Christ. We managed to provide Christmas gifts to over 40 children in need. Every week parishioners and neighbors drop off donations for the Triangle Park Community Center, our little storefront where people are fed and clothed daily, where the light of hope shines bright. We continue to reach out to each other as best as we can with calls and emails and cards, letting our fellow parishioners, our sisters and brothers, know that they are not forgotten, that we are all loved and missed.
Salvation is God’s work, but we have our own mission here in the flesh and blood world that matters so much to God. Even during this strange, difficult, and even sad Christmas, with God’s help we can - must - continue to build the beloved community among ourselves and with the many people around us so hungry for love and light. And when we are on our mission, when we are the Body of Christ right here and now, then, in the words of Catherine of Siena, “all the way to heaven is heaven.”
Merry Christmas to you all!
Tom
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