Without the gathering and the going out and singing “Adeste Fideles” together it doesn’t feel like Christmas has in the past. No egg nog and tree decorating this year made it hard to get in the spirit. You have heard, no doubt, (since these songs are played on an endless loop on the radio) the carol from the play, Mame, “We need a little Christmas.” That is certainly true of this year. We need a little Christmas now. According to the scripture, Christmas is meant for the “people who walked in darkness,” for those “who dwelt in the land of gloom.” Hey, that’s us! This year has been one of darkness and gloom. Living through the coronavirus pandemic has put us in the land of gloom. Trying to purge the racism endemic to American condition is a walk through the darkness. Dealing with the economic disparities that lead to poverty, hunger and homelessness can make anyone feel dreary. We need a little Christmas – a great light to get us through the darkness and the land of gloom. Isaiah tells us what that great light is: “A child is born to us, a son is given us.” The prophet says that a child will light the way and bring “abundant joy and great rejoicing.” Not a great leader, not a five point plan, not some new technology – a child. Christmas is about how the coming of a child changed everything. Without getting too sentimental we need to understand why we specifically needed a child to get us through the gloom of our times.
I suppose you are like me in receiving many photo cards at Christmas. People put a picture of their children or their grandchildren on a card and mail it with season’s greetings. I have a drawer-ful of them which go back years. One in particular struck me several years ago. Esther mailed me a picture of her great-grandson, Rayshawn. (Actually her given name is Queen Esther – it’s a Southern thing.) On the back of the photo Esther wrote: “here is our pride and joy.” Now there is nothing particularly noteworthy about a grandmother, or a great-grandmother in Esther’s case, taking pride in the next generation. It is what grandparents do! But when you know Esther’s story this burst of pride is remarkable. Her husband was on dialysis for the last years of his life and greatly debilitated. Her two sons died in early manhood of mysterious illnesses. Her one daughter lost her husband to a heart attack as a young man and she had to struggle to raise her two children, Esther’s grandchildren, on her own. And of those two, the boy is still trying to find himself at age 30 drifting from job to job. Her granddaughter, Rayshawn’s mother, dropped out of college – the first of her family to go to college – when she was pregnant and unmarried. Yet despite this rather distressing family history Esther looked at her great-grandson not with apprehension and anxiety but with hope. “Our pride and joy.” This time things were going to be different. This child was the future of the family.
Esther intuitively understood the lessons of the manger. When a child is born to us, a son is given us infinite possibilities open up. No matter what has gone on before, this child has the potential to be somebody, to do something special. The harsh realities of life have not yet limited his future of wide-opened prospects. So we see in the new-born not just an individual who is special to the family. We see in a child the possibility of a whole new way of being alive. Of course the latest addition has to be “our pride and joy.”
I have no doubt that Mary and Joseph felt the same way. Besides the instinctive potential that all parents see in their children they had shepherds dropping by reporting on a heavenly message. This only confirmed their own experience during the pregnancy which foretold of future greatness for their son. The birth of this child, in an even greater way than most, was the occasion for hope. No matter how dark and gloomy things seem to be, in this child God is doing something new. They learned the message of the manger in trusting that, even confined in a barn where you have to step around the muck and the mire, good news of great joy is present in the birth of a child.
What about us? Two thousand and some years after the birth of this child do we still feel the hope, see the potential, walk in the light, trust in the new thing God is doing? Just as the limitless potential of a new born gradually gets chipped away by the circumstances of life, does our great joy at the birth of this child diminish? After all, this child born for us was to bring peace and yet we still find war and violence all around us. This son given us brought healing wherever he went, yet sickness and death continue to stalk our mean streets. This new born king came to bring justice to the nations, but inequality and greed seem to be the norm of society. What are the lessons of the manger that we should take to heart? I think we need to trust in the wisdom of the grandmothers and see in this new born babe something new occurring. We tell the story every year as a way of refreshing the hope born in Bethlehem. The babe in the manger lets us know that God hasn’t finished yet, that the potential is not exhausted, that the new is about to break forth. Around the manger concerns about illness, about isolation, about politics don’t get the last word for God has something surprising in store for us. Around the manger tomorrow is a promise of God’s re-creating hand. Around the manger we lay down our doubts and fears because we see good news of great joy. We gather around the manger every year to be renewed in the possibilities present in the child born for us this day. Truly these are tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy. Oh come, let us adore him.