[Propertalk] Christmas Eve

[robertpmorrison at charter.net]

This is the draft for tonight - ten hours left for revisions! 8 - )


Merry Christ Mass!

Bob

THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH OF ST. ALBAN, ALBANY                        THE 
FEAST OF THE NATIVITY: CHRISTMAS EVE
ISAIAH 9:2-7                         					                      24th 
DECEMBER, 2012
TITUS 2:11-14				                            	 
PSALM 96
LUKE 2:1-20

	“Did she just seriously say that?”

	Poor grammar, of course, but I found it another hilarious line from the 
producers of Geico ads. Maxwell the pig is sitting on a plane in 
mid-flight, apparently texting or playing games on his cell phone, when 
a cabin attendant asks him to power down. He replied that he was just 
paying his Geico bill. Another attendant came up, unbelieving, saying, 
“You can do that from up here?”

	“Of course,” he said. “There’s an app for that.”

	The first attendant stares at the pig and the second says, “Right! When 
pigs fly!” and the two walk away. The pig looks across the aisle at an 
incredulous passenger, and says, “Did she just seriously say that?” 1

	I think what draws me in to just about every Geico commercial is the 
way in which the unusual is depicted as normal, and while the 
protagonist might be expected to engage the unusual, she or her 
practically always misses the chance.

	It’s like the person who’s growing just a bit too creaky and rigid to 
believe in all the marvels of Christmas. It takes a child, especially 
one with wit, with intelligence, with humour, with wide-eyed wonder, to 
think about the possibilities and to ignore what others might call, or 
at least think, is impossible.

	I think it’s the unexpectedness of it all that marks Christmas from 
most of our other celebrations. Everything we see and hear is, of 
course, by itself usually quite normal, quite practical. Food, clothes, 
singing, more food, talking, listening, more food, family – even the 
distantly placed ones as well as the new ones – oh, and did I mention 
food?

  	It’s all reasonably normal stuff, even if you add in several church 
services. Yet if they’re taken together there’s an almost indescribable 
air that’s different. The way people sit together at different hours of 
day and night; the effort we take to make sure we join with those we 
know, even if it’s just to text and skype those whom we haven’t seen in 
a long time.

	It’s a little strange that all this comes together at this short season 
of the year that begins tonight and runs for a scant two weeks, but 
then, that’s what remembering the birth of Jesus does. Suddenly we 
remember connections: connections with God, connections with one 
another. And we remember how important they are. Somehow, that baby 
makes the unexpected more likely.

	Because of Jesus, and the celebration of His birth among us as human 
beings, we make an effort at Christmas not simply to be pleasant, but to 
encourage one another, to reach out to those who make be going through 
difficult times, those who’re lonely, or tired, or facing change – 
especially the change those in places around the world like Newton where 
there will be so many empty places at tables this year and in the years 
ahead.

It IS unexpected that we seem to want and to be able to set aside or 
differences, and to find so much over which to share pleasurable 
reminiscences.

Again, that’s part of God’s happiness in staying connected with us. 
Everything is special with God, nothing is ordinary.

Maybe it’s because it gets dark so early, especially with the rain we’ve 
been having, but something within us reaches out to touch anything which 
offers light and hope. Still, this attitude of being able to stay up 
this late, to come together, to listen to one another, to find something 
in common among us, IS unexpected. And to be willing to stand in line in 
every store in Albany, worrying whether or not whatever we’re there for 
will still be in stock; to arm wrestle some angry-faced person for the 
last bag of arugula in the produce department; to be willing to face 
airports, with bad weather outside, and the chance of being bumped from 
the flight or stuck there for hours: SOMEthing touches us, something 
unexpected, something, perhaps, that we didn’t realize was within us, 
and makes us reach out beyond ourselves to listen to others, to speak to 
them, importantly, to speak FOR them.

We celebrate the birth of a baby in incredibly simple, unremarkable 
circumstances, in an area of the world known

mostly as a trouble-filled crossing of trade routes. Yet, in this 
strange time, in this unprepossessing location, in these troubled times 
we believe the God came in the person of a vulnerable baby. And, all of 
a sudden, the unexpected was brought to life so that OUR lives may be 
filled with joyful purpose and meaning.
No matter that we seem to get news every day of violence planned and 
perpetrated on one another; no matter that someone should be so 
incredibly evil as to lure fire fighters to a blazing building this 
morning, then lie in wait to shoot them as they fought to put the fire 
out, to save property as well as put themselves at risk; we’re still 
confronted with the news that God is so in love with us that we find 
ourselves showered with all sorts of compassion to help us cope with the 
deaths of children and adults, to help us cope with the festering 
suspicion and doubt that seems to make it difficult for politicians and 
other humans to respect and to interact with one another in a trusting 
and civil way.

Even in death and destruction, God comes – perhaps in the place and 
moment we least expect it.

So often, when the unexpected comes, as it does again tonight, we’re 
tempted to find excuses not to believe it. We may think it’s too 
obvious, too simplistic, too easy, perhaps. So we don’t respond, or we 
respond negatively. God came in such an unbelievable manner, when people 
were asking for God back then, as they are this night. But, quite 
likely, they weren’t looking for God right on that day. Perhaps we’re 
not really sure whether we want to find God among us.

God came in a place, among certain people of questionable 
characteristics. God was greeted first not by an ambassador or even the 
village council – not that they’d have been turned away! – but they may 
have been busy with important, complicated matters, and didn’t feel that 
another unplanned pregnancy warranted their attention.

No, God was greeted first by temporary workers who were willing to risk 
being fired for taking time off unannounced, not to mention risking 
those whom they’d been engaged to protect.

God continues to act in completely unexpected ways – bringing together 
people who might not be comfortable sitting in Starbucks with each 
other, God invites people, gives hope, frustrates unproductive schemes, 
so unexpectedly, by tweets, and texts, and Facebook postings.

God introduces us to someone’s heartaches and brings us to one another 
through the most unlikely set of happenings – by an encounter in a movie 
theatre, or in a hospital, or on a train, or in a plane – just the sort 
of places where we might ordinarily expect and crave privacy, and 
silence, and safety.

But today, just as two thousand years ago, God comes; God speaks; God 
cajoles; God prods through voices, and subtle gestures, and presence 
that we may never imagine might lead to anything, never mind the 
incredible joy and peace of knowing love.

So also God offers comforting company whenever our lives put us in 
contact with or at risk from everyday struggles.

But God didn’t, and doesn’t flinch from coming to all these unexpected, 
evern awkward circumstances. That’s the message of the Child whose birth 
we celebrate and whom we worship. God doesn’t flinch, so that we won’t 
be caught off guard, so that we won’t lose hope and courage.

In the midst of everything that seemed so improper, so inauspicious, God 
came in Jesus for all time, for every one of us – past, present and yet 
to be born – so that in everything that seems so out-of-joint today, the 
Child speaks to us – of love, of hope and, yes, of being able to live 
with the unexpected, the unimaginable.

So maybe we SHOULD pay attention, especially to talking, texting pigs!

Madeleine L’Engle summarises all this so well.

He did not wait till the world was ready,
till men and nations were at peace.
He came when the Heavens were unsteady,
and prisoners cried out for release.

He did not wait for the perfect time.
He came when the need was deep and great.
He dined with sinners in all their grime,
turned water into wine.

He did not wait till hearts were pure.
In joy he came to a tarnished world of sin and doubt.
To a world like ours, of anguished shame
he came, and his Light would not go out.

He came to a world which did not mesh,
to heal its tangles, shield its scorn.
In the mystery of the Word made Flesh
the Maker of the stars was born.

We cannot wait till the world is sane
to raise our songs with joyful voice,
for to share our grief, to touch our pain,
He came with Love: Rejoice! Rejoice! 2

NOTES:

1 	http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o-r4Z1K_LDc

2	“First Coming” by Madeleine L’Engle, from “The Ordering of Love: The 
New and Collected Poems of Madeleine L’Engle.” WaterBrook Press, 
Colorado Spirngs, Colorado  © 2005 Crosswicks, Ltd.


Robert P Morrison
Interim Vicar
The Episcopal Church of St Alban
PO Box 1556
Albany OR  97321   541-921-1076 (cell)