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“It is always the same old
Christmas story, and the same old carols and the same old
Mary and Joseph…” Those lines come from the opening scene of
Barbara Robinson’s wonderful story, The Best Christmas
Pageant Ever. It is the story of a local church that had
begun to lose the excitement and wonder of the holiday
season, and in this scene we see that they are starting to
lose the meaning of Christmas, as well.
“It is always the same old
Christmas story, and the same old carols and the same old
Mary and Joseph…” Perhaps these seem like strange words to
start the journey towards Christmas, but they are words we
can relate to. “The same old Christmas story…” Here it
starts: the same old routine…the shopping…the decorating…the
frantic pace…the list of cards to send…the visiting…even all
the church stuff…can end up feeling like the same old/same
old. “It is always the same old
Christmas story…” Too much to do, not enough time to do
it, and before we know it, we are standing knee deep in
piles of wrapping paper, wondering how it all went so fast,
again. “Is it always the same old Christmas story?”
I grew up in a church that got
caught in the same old Christmas routine every year. At my
little church, we did the same Christmas pageant every year.
Year in, year out. No changes. The same kids got the same
parts. We sang the same songs. We wore the same costumes.
The same baby doll always got to be Jesus. Deanna Cox was
always the angel. Renee Johnson (the total babe of the third
grade Sunday School class) was, of course, Mary. Cory
Repheldt (that lucky dog) always got to play Joseph. Kevin
Tober (poor guy) was always the donkey. Me? I got to be one
of the wise men. Did I ever get to bring the shiny gold or
the sweet-smelling frankincense? No way! Year in and year
out, you could count on good old Jeff Nelson showing up on
Christmas Eve in his father’s blue flannel bathrobe,
carrying a tinfoil-wrapped coffee can, supposedly filled
with some ancient embalming ointment. You bet, I got to be
the kid who always brought the myrrh. The myrrh. What
elementary schooler has any idea what myrrh is? Every
year, the same old thing.
And so here, on the first Sunday
of Advent, we find a bit of that sinking feeling somewhere
within us: “It is time for the same old Christmas story.”
How can Christmas be just four weeks away? How can I can get
it all in, get it all done? And perhaps the most sinking
feeling of all: How can I possibly be part of the angel’s
promise? How can I experience the good news of great joy
meant for all people? How can any of it happen when it just
seems like it is going to be the same old Christmas story
once again? In just four short weeks, we will celebrate the
towering miracle that in the birth of Jesus Christ, our God
has visited the planet. And yet for some, maybe even for
some of us, the absolute miracle that our God has been here
might once again just feel like “the same old Christmas
story, with the same carols and the same old Mary and
Joseph.” The miracle of Christmas may be glossed over,
brushed aside or rendered meaningless by the sense that,
although quaint and cute and sentimental, the Christmas
story has little nuance left to offer us. When it comes to
the manger, the angel, the shepherds, the sheep, the
Silent Nights and the O Little Town of Bethlehems,
many will look at us and say, “Been there…done that.” If
Christmas suffers anything in our culture, it probably
suffers from over-familiarity.
Over-familiarity. According to
an old saying, familiarity breeds contempt. Of course, this
isn’t always true. In particular, it is often not true of
people with whom we are familiar. Indeed, with the best of
friends, the more we know them, the more we grow to love and
respect them. That is when the familiar can feel almost
downright familial. It is when we discover that someone or
something is shallow, devoid of substance or is unable to
deliver on the promise they make that familiarity can turn
to contempt. I guess that is why we can be so cynical about
Christmas, as well as the Christ child who sits at its
center and the Christians who proclaim to follow him.
Far too many are far too familiar with the shallowness of
our fast-paced, consumer-driven, cultural Christmas, as well
as the little plastic Jesus that comes out once a year to
sit in our nativity scenes. Familiarity can breed
contempt.
And when familiarity breeds
contempt, there is potential danger. Think about the person
who works on scaffolding hundreds of feet above the ground
or the person who spends his days working with high voltage
electricity or heavy machinery. What happens when they are
no longer aware of the seriousness of what is happening
around them? What happens when what they are doing becomes
so familiar…so comfortable…so boring…so much just the “same
old, same old?” They put themselves, and they put others, at
great risk. On some occasions, familiarity breeds
indifference, and indifference can be dangerous.
There is a danger of an
over-familiarity with Christmas and the story that sits at
the very heart of this season: so great is God’s love for
humanity that God becomes human. Amid all of the familiar
trees, tinsel and seasonal trappings, we can almost forget
that God has been here. The overblown familiarity of the
season can obscure the fact that God’s entrance onto the
human scene happened with a frightening quietness and
humility. There were no advertisements, no publicity and no
special privileges. In the birth of Jesus Christ, God
entered into the world he created with almost heartbreaking
humility.
People had been waiting for
centuries for God to enter into human history. It just
wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Christmas began with an
angel’s touch. In the sixth month, a messenger from on high
appeared to a young girl, in a poor town, located at the
edge of civilization. The angel came with a message: God had
noticed her, one whom the world had forgotten. When one
takes a fresh look, one will see that there is nothing
familiar about the first Christmas.
God’s visible entrance into the
world happening through one who was otherwise invisible…
nothing familiar about that. God’s new Kingdom, the place to
establish a new reign, a seat of power and dominion,
beginning in a small, poor, forgotten little town…nothing
familiar about that. Though she had never been with a man,
God wanted to bring a child into the world… Immaculate
Conception, nothing familiar about that. It was supposed to
be louder and more noticeable. You would think that
everybody would notice it, that there probably would have
been music playing nonstop for weeks ahead of time to
prepare everyone, that all of the local shops would have had
huge sales so that people could have the right stuff to
properly celebrate God’s arrival, that the streets would be
teeming with frantic busyness and activity. God is coming.
Look busy.
But it didn’t happen that way at
all. In the quiet of the night, with a whisper and a touch,
a young girl named Mary would bring God into the world. At
the time, only a handful of people took any notice at all.
God’s entrance onto the scene of humanity is quiet, humble,
unconventional and totally different than anyone could have
predicted. There was nothing familiar about it.
But if there was ever a time we
could use some familiarity, some predictability, some same
old/ same old, this would be the time. This year, Christmas
comes at a time of unprecedented change. The changes are
rapid and unpredictable. Our security feels tenuous, our
future uncertain. Our nation is engaged in a war that will
likely continue for the foreseeable future. There are
moments it feels like our nation is split on every
political, social and religious issue. Natural disasters
leave hundreds of thousands homeless and helpless. If there
was ever a time for some normalcy, some predictability, some
familiarity, if there was ever a time for a return to the
nostalgic good old days, this has got to be it.
And then the news of Monday’s
plant closings sent ripples of fear right through the very
core of this community. I was in the Nashville airport on
Monday, returning from a weekend conference, when I saw on
CNN the words: “GM Announces Closings.” I tell you, my heart
just sank. I saw the faces of those of you who work at GM or
whose livelihood is touched by the harsh economic times in
which we find ourselves. There is no doubt about it, the
world is changing around us. What I wouldn’t give for some
familiarity!
But the season we are entering,
the Advent journey towards Christmas, doesn’t promise the
familiar. In fact, Christmas—the coming of Christ into the
world—was all about change. God’s coming as a child, born to
a virgin on the outskirts of town, was about to change
everything… change the way we look at God, change the way
God looked at us. So there I sat in the airport watching the
news of another round of difficult changes on the horizon
for the community and the people I love, wondering what on
earth I could say to them as we prepare together to
encounter the glory of Emmanuel—God with us—once again in
the manger at Bethlehem. I picked up my Bible and began to
read this week’s scripture lesson. And guess what I
encountered? A world much like our own. I encountered a
community of people whose lives seemed unstable and
uncertain. I met people on the move because of the shifting
going on around them, people who wondered if they would have
adequate housing and food into the future. And I met a young
girl who dared to be open to the possibility that God was
still active in the midst of all the uncertainty.
And then I encountered a verse
that just jumped off the page. Oh, I have read it before. I
have read it hundreds and hundreds of times. It was just a
part of the same old familiar Christmas story. But on this
day, the words smacked me right between the eyes. “Fear not.
The Lord is with you.” The first message of Christmas: Fear
not. For God is with us.
“Fear not.” Words spoken to a
young girl who had much to fear. She was young. She was
unmarried. This child was not to be a normal child and would
surely not lead a normal life. Mary was being asked to
leave any sense of familiarity behind. She was being asked
to step out into a world that God was about to change
forever. Lest we think this was some “touched by an angel”
moment, all nice and pretty, the scripture uses words like
troubled, perplexed, confused or worried. Eugene Peterson,
in The Message translation, described Mary as being
“thoroughly shaken” by the news of all the changes coming to
her and to her world.
It is clear that Mary is
frightened. So how does she do it? How can she just consent
to this? After thinking and reflecting on this text for
about a week, I have come to the conclusion that the only
way Mary was able to take this trembling leap into the
unfamiliar future was because she took God at his word.
“Fear not,” the angel said, “The Lord is with you.” The only
way Mary is able, and the only way we will be able, to take
this incredible step of faith is by taking God at his word.
It is to actually trust that God is with us.
This is the core of the
Christmas message. Nothing more. Nothing less. We have
nothing to fear, for God is with us. Christmas is not about
presents. It is not about trees. It is not about red-nosed
reindeer, dancing snowmen, or grinches who want to steal
Christmas altogether. Christmas isn’t about the cookies we
bake, the cards we send or the worship services we plan.
Christmas is about the central belief that through the birth
of Jesus Christ, God enters into the human story forever. We
have nothing to fear, for God is with us.
God is with us. And when we
grasp, truly grasp, that the creator, redeemer and sustainer
of the universe is right here in our midst and promises to
walk every step of the way with us, even to die with us and
for us and as one of us, well then, how can anything ever be
simply familiar? And God’s presence in our midst changes
everything.
God is here! Let me say it
again: God is here! Let me say it again, again, again,
again: God is here! God is here! God is here! In the child
born to Mary in the stable, God came to us! Listen to
Paul. He gets it. And he wants so badly for us to get it.
His passion is so palpable that it almost jumps right off
the page:
What, then, shall we say in
response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us?
He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us
all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us
all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God
has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who is he that
condemns? Christ Jesus, who died—more than that, who was
raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also
interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of
Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine
or nakedness or danger or sword?
No, in all these things we are
more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am
convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor
demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers,
neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation,
will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in
Christ Jesus our Lord.
Are we convinced of it? We have
nothing to fear. God is here! If Paul were writing to us
today, perhaps he’d write it like this:
For I am convinced that neither
cancer, nor AIDS, nor influenza, heart disease or
malaria…not war or terrorism, not earthquakes, not floods,
droughts or hurricanes…not addiction, nor depression, nor
recession, nor downsizing, nor plant closings, nor
poverty….there is no mountain too high or a valley so low,
no mistake of the past or uncertainty of the future, that
can ever separate any of us from the love of God found in
that little baby born in that manger in Bethlehem some two
thousand years ago. Nothing…nothing can ever separate us
from God. God is here. There is nothing for us to fear.
So, at the beginning of this
Advent season, let me make it plain: “It is the same old
Christmas story, and the same old carols and the same old
Mary and Joseph…” It is the same old story of the child born
in the manger who grew up to preach good news to the poor,
to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight
to the blind. It is same old story of this Son of God who
took up a cross, died and was buried, only to rise again
after three days and is now present to us through his
spirit. It is a story that can’t become too familiar. In
fact, in a world full of changes, it might just be the only
familiarity we get. It might just be the only familiarity we
will ever need.
Notes: Some of the thoughts on
the dangers of an over-familiarity with all things
“Christmas” came from a very helpful article called “The
Dangers of Advent” by New Testament scholar J.B. Phillips,
from his book Good News: Thoughts on God and Man,
copyright 1953, The Macmillan Co., New York.
Also, the book I mentioned at
the beginning, The Best Christmas Pageant Ever by
Barbara Robinson, is a great read. Here is a portion of a
review from an online site I found:
Everyone agrees that the Herdmans are horrible. There are
six of them, each worse than the last; they curse, smoke
cigars (even the girls), bully their classmates and
terrorize their teachers. Thus far, Beth Bradley has managed
to avoid them. But that changes when her mother is put in
charge of the church Christmas pageant, and the Herdmans
decide to get involved. Suddenly, Beth can't turn around
without bumping into a Herdman.
Imogene Herdman decides that she will be Mary, and no one is
willing to tell her no. Her brothers and her sister take the
rest of the main parts: Joseph, the Wise Men and the Angel
of the Lord. Beth's mother carries on grimly in the face of
this unexpected turn in her cast, and the night of the
pageant arrives. To everyone's surprise, the Herdmans pull
it off. True, it's in their own style -- the youngest,
Gladys, the Angel of the Lord, announces, "Hey! Unto you a
child is born!" and the Wise Men present the ham from their
charity food basket rather than frankincense and myrrh --
but for Beth, the pageant is a revelation of the meaning of
Christmas and of the Christmas story. She says, "But as far
as I'm concerned, Mary is always going to look a lot like
Imogene Herdman -- sort of nervous and bewildered, but ready
to clobber anyone who laid a hand on her baby." For all
concerned, it is indeed the best Christmas pageant ever.
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