"Joy Is Ours!" Christmas Eve, 2005

Joy Is Ours! Isaiah 9:2-7; Luke 2:1-20
Christmas Eve, 2005


Last Saturday I spent much of the day out in the yard behind our house. I raked piles of leaves. And I cleaned up the perennial garden behind our house, cutting back perennial growth that long ago had become brown and brittle, dead to the ground.

This is the time of year when, to all appearances, there is nothing living in the garden. Everything that grows from the earth has retracted into its roots or its trunk. The St. Francis statue and the bird bath stand alone. About 10 days ago, a flock of Robins descended upon the yard, and we enjoyed watching them drink from the bird bath, and grub around for food. But since then, there have been hard frosts. Birds are hunkered down. Squirrels are squirreled away.

How different it is for us human beings! This is, perhaps, our busiest time of year! Trips to the mall and baking and cards and decorating and parties (given and gone to), and not enough time to do all that we want to do …

One reason, I think, why so many feel so frenzied during December is that we push and push ourselves at precisely the time when hibernation would better suit our genetic make up! Electricity and urbanization have allowed us to defy the natural rhythms of life, so that we have our annual rhythm of activity exactly reversed. Think of it: we’ve come to believe that we should rest during the summer. But that’s when the longest periods of daylight encourage the most biological activity! This is the time of year when, biologically, we would be healthy to let the soil of our souls go fallow.

This is the time of year when we need the most sleep! That’s because there is much more darkness than light at this time of year. It is dark for 14 of every 24 hours. And the darkness becomes a metaphor for what many people struggle against during these weeks. There is much more depression at this time of year, compared with other seasons. Many people struggle with grief at this time of year, especially.

How wonderful it is that, in the 4th century, when Christians finally decided it would be important to celebrate Jesus’ birth, that they chose this time of year! It is during these periods of longest darkness that we celebrate God born into our cold and dark; born into our human flesh when life seems least viable.

Tonight, in Luke’s story of Jesus’ birth, Mary and Joseph are beleaguered by the darkness of much that is uncertain and frightening.

Mary is pregnant – but she and Joseph aren’t married. They are engaged. You’ll remember, then, that this is taking place during the year-long period that was the custom of the time, between the agreement of the marriage (reached between Joseph and Mary’s father), and the finalization of that marriage (which will happen when Joseph takes Mary into his household).

Joseph has not trespassed on the betrothal period. Mary is not pregnant by him. And so, to all appearances, Mary should be put to death. (That’s the penalty in the religious law for a woman who commits adultery, which is certainly what appears to have happened here.) Imagine the tremors that pass through Mary as she contemplates such dark consequences of what God is doing with her.

Meanwhile, Joseph hasn’t insisted on the death penalty. In fact, he is sticking with Mary! Imagine how that looks to all who know Joseph! Imagine the ridicule. What humiliation he is enduring. What darkness.

There’s more. Mary and Joseph are powerless in the face of civil authority. They are making their way to Bethlehem, (despite the fact that Mary is due to give birth any day) because they’re forced to obey a directive, from the Roman emperor, to be counted in a census. (The Caesar wants to know how many captive subjects he has in his empire.)

There’s more darkness! Bethlehem is packed with travelers who have arrived to their ancestral town to be counted in the census. Joseph and Mary can find no accommodations. They have to sleep in a stable.

Consider this: into the frightening darkness experienced by a teenager with her betrothed husband, pregnant in a way impossible to understand, who goes into labor while away from home, in the middle of a night spent among barnyard animals (with all their smells!), God enters our human flesh!

Where the darkness is greatest, where life seems least viable, that’s where God enters in.

Indeed, in this story, it is as if God looks for darkness to enter into. Who does God first tell about the birth of the Christ child? Do the angels proclaim the news to the religious leaders of God’s people? Do they announce the gospel to the emperor? Or even to the local Roman governor?

Of course not. (You know the story!) "In that region there were shepherds living in the fields." Shepherds: coarse men of no account. Unclean, according to the religious law of God’s people. They are out in the fields, in the middle of the night, in darkness so total that when "the glory of the Lord shone around them,…they were terrified!"

Perhaps it is where the darkness is deepest, and where life seems least viable, that we most notice God entering in. The times of struggle, the experiences of loneliness, and sadness, the regrets and disappointments, the griefs we have accumulated. That’s what the darkness is.

We are walking in darkness – and so, how electrifying are these words of announcement we read tonight from Isaiah:

The people who walked in darkness
have seen a great light;
those who lived in a land of deep darkness--
on them light has shined.

Tonight is close to the longest night of the year. It has been dark for seven and a half hours. It will be dark for six hours more.

Against that darkness, we light candles tonight – to celebrate the light of Christ that penetrates our darkness! The birth of Jesus does not eliminate the darkness. The birth of Jesus illuminates our walking path through the darkness.

The people who walked in darkness
have seen a great light;
those who lived in a land of deep darkness--
on them light has shined.

Joy is ours!

That’s not because only good things happen to us. The joy we proclaim at Christmas is not contingent on “how good a year we’ve had.” Whether we’ve had job promotions and salary increases or we’ve been caught in corporate flux, joy is ours. Whether the surgery is successful or the oncologist’s news is pessimistic, joy is ours. Whether we’ve celebrated the birth of a new baby or mourned the death of a loved one, joy is ours.

Joy is ours because the brilliant light of the Christ child shines on the path we are given to walk through the darkness. Joy is ours because the darkness does not overcome that light.

Joy is ours because, indeed, on the path we are given to walk, there is God! Jesus is God, born into human flesh; present with us, physically, in our human flesh! In the Holy Communion meal of our risen Savior, we eat and drink God’s physical presence! (No other religion on earth makes claim to such intimate presence of God.)

Joy is ours because of the child that has been born to us! We celebrate the birth of that child on this night with bells and singing and candles. We glimpse that child’s coming reign each day of the year, whenever there are performed acts of justice and mercy. (Those acts of mercy are as lights, illuminating the darkness, beacons on the path we are given to walk.)

Joy is ours!

For a child has been born for us,
a son given to us;
authority rests upon his shoulders;
and he is named
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
His authority shall grow continually,
and there shall be endless peace
for the throne of David and his kingdom.
He will establish and uphold it
with justice and with righteousness
from this time onward and forevermore.
The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.

In the name of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Pastor Andy Ballentine
St. Stephen Lutheran Church
Williamsburg, Virginia