Luke 2:1-20
In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. 2 (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) 3 And everyone went to their own town to register.
4 So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. 5 He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. 6 While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, 7 and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.
8 And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. 9 An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10 But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. 11 Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. 12 This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”
13 Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,
14 “Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”
15 When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”
16 So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. 17 When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, 18 and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. 19 But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. 20 The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.
We were away last Sunday for a wedding in Indiana. Yes, you heard me correctly, we had a wedding on December 22, the fourth Sunday of Advent. That’s okay, it isn’t like this is the busy season for people in my line of work or anything like that.
It was Sonya’s last cousin, out of 17, who got married, so we weren’t going to miss that. And my family lives four hours away from that cousin, so we were able to spend Christmas Day with my family for the first time in years. We are glad we went, but we are also glad to sleep in our own beds for a few nights.
Last Sunday we worshipped at Waterford Mennonite Church in Goshen, Indiana, and the youth pastor, Katie, shared a bit about her childhood experiences and the transition into adulthood. She said that growing up, her family always had multiple nativity sets around the house during Christmas. It wasn’t unusual to have four our five in the living room, dining room, even their bedrooms. We all know what to expect in a nativity scene. There is going to be a baby and his parents. They will be surrounded by the animals who live in the barn. There will be shepherds. There will be angels. And there will be wise men.
When she got married, Katie assumed that they would continue the tradition of having a beautiful nativity set out each year. But she should have known better. Her husband came from a family of rearrangers. She should have seen it coming when she first saw the train at her in-law’s home pulling the letters N-O-E-L, but rearranged to spell out the name Leon. She didn’t realize what she was in for until they were gifted a lovely nativity scene with clay figures and she began to decorate with it. The next day, she woke up to all of the figures gathered around a young shepherd and his sheep, while ignoring Mary and the baby. The next day, all the figures were gathered around a sheep who appears to be giving a speech from the back of a camel. The following days, additional characters showed up. A googly-eyed Santa, a penguin, and the wisest of wisemen, Master Yoda. Soon word got out that there was a party, and everyone showed up, and then had a parade. This seemed to be too much for Joseph, so the next day he was found taking a nap.
Does anyone feel that this is a little disrespectful? I mean, come on. This is the manger scene where Jesus was born! Okay, I feel it is a little disrespectful, but also kind of funny. My children even got in on the rearranging a bit when we came across a large nativity scene in Indiana and they decided that they could be a part of the celebration. I don’t want to be disrespectful. But I also see some good theology in moving around the pieces, rearranging what was expected, and even in joining with Mary and Joseph as they celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. In this short reflection I want to show how Jesus is and always has been a master of disruption. And that’s just what some of us need.
First, I just want to remind you all that what we know as the nativity scene probably isn’t what Jesus experienced. The barn that Jesus was born in would have been attached to a family’s dwelling. Often people kept their livestock in what kind of resembles our basement. The shepherds and the wise men didn’t show up at the same time. Tradition tells us that the wise men came 12 days later, on the day we call Epiphany. That is why we celebrate the 12 days of Christmas. We will look more at Epiphany next week on…Epiphany Sunday! But notice, Luke doesn’t say anything about the wise men. They only show up in Matthew’s gospel. And Matthew doesn’t say anything about the shepherds. They didn’t show up at the same time.
But perhaps the most misleading thing about the nativity scene isn’t an image, but a song. It is possible that Jesus Christ, both fully human and fully God, did not cry when he was born. But I doubt it. And even if he did, this took place thousands of years before the spinal block or epidurals. I was present for the birth of both of my children, and it was not a silent night.
I think that the idea of disruption is a better fit for Christmas than silence. Just imagine you are Joseph. A young carpenter, building homes and now ready to begin building a family. You’ve made arrangements to marry a young woman named Mary. You’ve paid the dowry to her father. It was common in those days to get engaged and then for the man to begin building the house where they would start a family. Joseph is stacking rocks, mixing mortar, and growing excited about his new life.
But word got back to Joseph that his betrothed was pregnant. And it wasn’t his. The Jesus story is from the very beginning a story of disruption. Even after Joseph received a message from the angel, you have to think that raising the son of God is going to change a few of your plans. Joseph had something in mind, but along comes Jesus and changes everything.
Mary seems to know from the very beginning that the child in her womb would be a disruptor. After Mary hears the news about her son, she sings. Mary’s song, sometimes called the Magnificat, says:
My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant. From now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me—holy is his name. His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation. He has performed mighty deeds with his arm; he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts. He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, remembering to be merciful to Abraham and his descendants forever, just as he promised our ancestors.
Jesus was born to be a disruptor. So while I want to say that messing around with the nativity scene, putting Yoda or a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle among the shepherds and the wise men, is a little distasteful, I also think it is quite appropriate. Because just when we thought we had it all figured out, and knew what to expect, something else enters the system. We’ve attempted to domesticate Jesus. We like the predictable Jesus. But that’s not the Jesus of the Bible. The Jesus of the Bible is meant to disrupt.
I remember the first time I ever heard Shane Claiborne speak. It was about 16 years ago and I had no idea who this guy was. I was in my first year of seminary, and I went to chapel one day. As I walked up to the door, there was this tall hippie with dreadlocks, thick-rimmed glasses, and wearing clothes that looked like they were made from burlap bags. I found out later that he did in fact make all of his own clothes. An intelligent man with a southern drawl, Claiborne had been a student with Tony Campolo before becoming a seminary student at Princeton Theological Seminary. But partway through his studies, Claiborne withdrew from seminary, and went to live among the poor and homeless in Philadelphia. Stepping out of a world that was always looking out for itself, always chasing the next big sale or the almighty dollar, Claiborne loved the unlovable, lived in places most of us wouldn’t visit, and ate with people most of us wouldn’t give a second look on the street. He gave up comfort and perhaps money to spend time with society’s rejects. And he did it because this is what he saw Jesus doing in the Bible. Claiborne saw this as his ministry, and he has been doing it for 20 years.
I don’t remember much about what Claiborne said that day, but one story still sticks in my memory. He was speaking to a group one day, and after his presentation, a man came up to him and said, “When I found Jesus, he really straightened my life out.” Claiborne responded, “Really, because when I found Jesus, he really messed my life up!”
Claiborne has served with Mother Teresa in Calcutta, and with Christian Peacemaker Teams in Iraq. He has authored dozens of articles and books, including the one with my favorite title, “What if Jesus Meant All That Stuff?” And in his book The Irresistible Revolution, Claiborne writes something very simple, but also quite profound: “God comforts the disturbed and disturbs the comfortable.”
I find that profound, because I know that it is true. As we read in Isaiah 40, the words popularized in Handel’s Messiah, “Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God.” Every 12-step program that I know of includes saying that we are powerless against their addiction and we need God to help us through it. And we all know the old saying, “There are no atheists in foxholes.” I think we often focus on the “God comforts the disturbed” part. But we must not forget that God disturbs the comfortable as well.
I like the story of Shane Claiborne, but I also tell it with some hesitancy. I don’t think that we are all called to move out of our homes and go live among the poor in the streets of Philadelphia. I don’t want to romanticize this experience or anything of that nature. But of those sitting in our pews this Sunday, I’m wondering how comfortable we have gotten. How comfortable have we gotten with our own circle of friends? Maybe God is trying to disturb you a bit this year and get you to spend time with someone new. Or maybe you’ve become comfortable with your schedule, and you have been ignoring nudges to volunteer somewhere, to coach a kids’ basketball team or serve a meal at the Valley Mission.
I don’t know what everyone’s situation is, but what I do know is that from the very beginning, God has been comforting the disturbed, and disturbing the comfortable. And sometimes that’s the same person! Just when we get comfortable with our manger scenes the way we want them, God comes along and disturbs things. Maybe a little Yoda here, perhaps a T-rex there. It may feel a little disrespectful, but if it is God doing the disturbing, it would be worse to ignore that disruption in favor of the status quo.
And if you ever feel excluded, remember, there is always room for a few more characters at Jesus’s celebration.
Staunton Mennonite Weblog 