THE LITTLE GIRL WHO SAID YES

 

The Little Girl Who Said Yes?

A Christmas Sermon (St. Paul’s, Mount Vernon, WA)

12/25/2023

The Rev. Keith Axberg, Ret.

(Based on John 1:1-14)

Feliz Navidad. Joyeux Noel. Buon Natale. God Jul! Merry Christmas.

It’s Christmas morning, but did you notice John’s Gospel is missing all the cinematic effects of the Christmas story? What is the Good News this morning? 

If you were here last night, you heard the emperor make a demand for a census, requiring folks to do some traveling for the holidays; you heard how Mary & Joseph had to travel to the City of David; you saw them look for a place to have a baby, and how that baby was born in a little out-of-the-way place so they could have some privacy; you heard the angels sing; you saw the shepherds come in from the hills to see the little baby wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger; perhaps someone pointed out a special star traveling overhead, stopping over the little town of Bethlehem; they aren’t here yet, and they’re not due for another twelve days, but even now you’re probably anticipating the arrival of some Magi on the road from afar.

That’s the Christmas story, right?

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Jesus was born last night, of course. We celebrated his birth. You heard the story. You and I have heard the story told and retold every year for as long as we’ve been around. Even if you are new to the Christian Faith, you know the story. You may wonder where it fits in amongst the trees and tinsel, the bells and whistles, the Ho Ho Hos and the Yippee Ki-yays. 

But somewhere in that mix, you’ve heard the story of the Emperor who called for a census; the couple who had to make the trip from their little hole-in-the-wall home in Galilee to O Little Town of Bethlehem to be counted – which is ironic, because the only time poor people count is when you want to raise taxes – 

You heard the story, and the house here was abuzz with kids and parents; we were finally able to break away from all those Advent hymns written in minor keys (O come, o come, Ema- -nu-el, and ransom captive I- - -sra-el), sort of ponderous and solemn – and we were finally able to sing all those wonderful Christmas hymns, which are even more magical because we actually know the tunes and the words!

For four weeks, the church has been relatively drab and gray; “spruced” up with a little bit of greenery; a wreath here and there; cold days, long, dark nights; a real contrast with the crowded stores with their bright lights, bell-ringers, Frosty the Snowman, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer – I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas music in one store, drowned out by Jingle Bell Rock in the next store, and greeting cards with tinny voices wishing you (goofy voice) Happy Holidays (yup, yup).

Today, the Church is alive with the sound of Music; the walls have been decked with wreaths and ribbons; the tree is green, representing growth and new life; it’s the shape of a cone, pointing heavenward, from whence cometh our help (Psalm 121), say the scriptures.

Christmas morning is a little different, though, isn’t it?

Many of us have watched some of the thousands of Christmas movies trying to help us understand what the day and season are all about. Ebeneezer Scrooge finding the Christmas Spirit with the help of the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future. 

There’s George Bailey discovering  the impact his Wonderful Life has made on the community all around him – with a little help from Clarence – an angel who has yet to earn his wings.

There’s also a solid dose of nostalgia for we Boomers with Ralphie in The Christmas Story;  or the defense of the Castle Doctrine in Home Alone; or the girl who is looking for love, and discovers it in the grumpy inn-keeper (who she discovers “truly is the ONE FOR HER” in every Hallmark movie ever.

They miss the point: Christmas isn’t about finding love (Love Actually), or getting a Christmas Bonus like in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.

These movies are all egocentric. They’re all about fixing us, or changing us, or making us better. But John skips over the stories of Christmas we have in Luke and in Matthew, and tells us that Christmas IS about change, but not about us.

It’s not about US; it’s about God. Christmas is about God changing – not us.

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“In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God, and the word was God …” 

From time immemorial, God has dwelt in the highest heavens. God has come down periodically to check in us. But those have been flashes. The theological word for that is THEOPHANY. A momentary glance at God, or a momentary glimpse of God.

When God met Moses on the Mountain, Moses couldn’t see God. Moses could only hear what God had to say. “In the beginning was the word …” John, writing the Gospel, knows that.

Moses heard the voice of God. Moses saw the hand of God at work, carving out the rules and regulations – the Torah – by which God’s people were to live. But there was something missing. Moses cried out: “I want to see YOU, God!”

So God hid Moses in a deep, dark crevasse, and for just a moment, God tippy-toed past quickly, so Moses caught just the barest glimpse of God’s back side. 

But that was enough. Moses came down off the mountain, and his whole face was illuminated so bright, it scared the dickens out of the children of Israel.

“The light shone in darkness, and the darkness did not understand it.”

Just a flash. That’s all it took. That was enough. 

I had a friend who passed away a few years ago. Larry Sparr and his family were driving across the North Cascades Highway, heading home from some time in Winthrop. They pulled over at a small parking lot where you can hike a little ways to a beautiful overlook. It was getting late, but not too bad. So Larry, his wife Dawn, and their two girls hiked up the trail for a couple hundred yards to the overlook and thoroughly enjoyed this magnificent valley through which Highway 20 cuts. 

They were there for just a few minutes when the sun set sooner than they had expected. It’s not that the sun really set early, but it dipped below the mountains, and suddenly, they were thrust into darkness, just as if a light had been switched off. They’d gone from day to dusk, to night in just a matter of seconds, it seemed.

Larry knew how to get to the car. There was only one path, but he couldn’t see the path. Between the darkness and the trees lining the path, it was just pitch black. They hadn’t thought to bring a flashlight, and this was in the days before cell-phones and their built-in flashlights. But Larry did have his 35-mm (film) camera. He loved his photography. So he turned the camera toward the path – FLASH – he could see where it was. So he and the family held hands, and about every 15-20 feet he would flash down the path, memorize direction, curves, and tree roots or hazards, and they worked their way back to the car.

The flash of the camera illuminated the path; the darkness could not overcome the brightness of that light.

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light,” says the prophet.

But flashes are not enough. For fifteen hundred years, God flashed here and there, and the children of Israel took steps. Baby steps. Big steps. Small steps. Stumbling steps. Sometimes they fell flat on their faces. Sometimes they didn’t. Sometimes they were faithful; oftentimes they weren’t. 

And God says (and I’m paraphrasing the prophets here), “This is insane. I keep doing the same thing over and over and hoping for different results. At some point someone’s going to say ‘That’s the definition of insanity.’” 

So God did something new. Instead of sporadic flashes of insight every now and then, how about providing a light that will never be extinguished? A lamp that will never run out of oil? A candle that will never burn down, or be hidden under a bushel basket? How about if, instead of beaming up and out, I stick around and live, not in heaven above, or behind the curtain in the Holy of Holies, but here? With these people? In these people? With as many people as desire the light I have for them?

“For as many as received him, he made them the children of God – children of the Light.”

And that’s what God did. God found a little girl willing to say yes. God became microscopic. That’s why Mary said, “My soul doth MAGNIFY the Lord.” She had to magnify him; he was microscopic. 

So God became one WITH her, and became one IN her.

In much the same way, God becomes one with us – because we dare to say yes. God becomes one IN us, because we dare to say yes – because God finally figured out the only way to change the human race is to start from the inside, and change us one at a time. 

The reason for the season isn’t a plotline from some Hallmark movie. The reason for the season is to allow God to plant in us exactly what Mary was allowing God to plant in her, and we’re here to remember that.

We’re not to just be like Jesus; we’re to be Jesus. That was God’s bright idea in this dark and chilly world. 

Merry Christmas – or as my ancestors said, God Jul! AMEN.