Eight Days and Counting...
Yes, I pride myself on being a thoughtful person, but when something complicated in a bad way drops itself into my lap. I spend an awful lot of effort attempting not to think about it. Because maybe...if I don't think about it....it will just dissolve itself....and I won't have to worry about it. Problem is....it never does. It just gets bigger and messier until I'm forced to deal with it. Why we human beings like to do that to ourselves is a question for philosophers to ponder during lunch break. For now, I'll just be content with saying that, at least for me, not thinking about things because it takes work, or because I'm afraid, is not a good thing.
What does thinking have to do with Christmas? Glad you asked. On the surface, Christmas seems like a neat, tidy little story. We see Mary and Joseph in a clean, lighted stable with happy animals sauntering about politely giving them space. The hay in the manger looks like it was harvested just yesterday from a clean, dry field, and the shepherds look like they just stopped by on their way back from the salon to pay Jesus a visit. We have the three wise men(because if there were three gifts mentioned, naturally it follows that there must have been three and only three givers) who sit in with their three camels and beautifully wrapped gifts all kneeling before a happily beaming baby Jesus, loosely decked in a shinning white robe, who is never cold, and never suffers from indigestion.
It's very pretty isn't it? I like the manger scene. It's all so clear and simple and pleasant to look upon. So, why don't we just ignore the nitty-gritty truth of it all and keep our eyes fixed on the elegantly painted vernier? Philosopher that I am I've often wondered if sometimes, if a little falsehood is perhaps a little better for everyone than taking time to unfold the truth of things. After all who wants to think about the fact that the manger was probably rather smutty. The animals were annoyingly in the way(if they were even there, just because they laid him in a manger doesn't follow that cows and goats were present), the inn was probably dimly lit and overcrowded, and because of the bustle of the census, probably not the most hygienic atmosphere. We don't want to think about the fact that the shepherds smelled like, well, sheep. And most likely the looked and acted like the course, backwoodsmen type of people they were. We definitely don't want to think about a hoard of eastern travelers with their caravan and shouting servants and clothes that look like they've been through a desert, with gifts in untidy bundles and flustered a little because all this is extremely awkward and Mary and Joseph are tongue tied at this unexpected honor, while baby Jesus no more than two can't even pronounce a blessing on them for their pains.
In all actuality there is no record that the angels sang. From all accounts the Shepherds were perfectly terrified at their appearance, and they were most likely not beautiful women in colorful gowns hovering benevolently over the manger scene.
Yes, we don't want to think about that, do we? And yet, as I've gotten older, I've realized that if we remove the truth of the story we remove half of the beauty and greatness of the thing and turn the incarnation into a Thomas Kinkade painting...as beautiful as they are, they're not real, and they miss some of the grandeur of reality.
What is that grandeur? Well, to put it simply we miss the greatness of God in all this. We see Jesus treated as a king should be treated, more or less, we try as much as possible to apologize for the manger by making it as perfect as possible. We try to make the Shepherds look like fashion models who put on robes because we think Jesus deserves more than just Shepherds at His birth. We might be right, and yet, Jesus laid that aside when He came down, He was willing to take on a birth of obscurity and inconveniences and a villain's death out of love for mankind. And that, I think makes his love and greatness all the more apparent than if the whitewashed version were fact.
Secondly we miss the relatable aspect of it all. Very few of us find ourselves constantly in beautiful situations surrounded by flawless individuals in spotless arenas where even the animals know that we're the best thing since sliced bread.
We can related with the Shepherds cowering in a horrible fright at the angels, I think now it would be even more terrifying in this skeptical world we live in than it was for them in a more open-minded culture. We can feel with Mary's angst over having to put her baby in a dirty old manger, her disappointment that she had only swaddling clothes, the dress of the poor, to wrap up the child who she knew to be special.
We can sympathize with Joseph's annoyance at having to travel down to Bethlehem for a census held by those cursed Romans, especially when his new bride was about to have a child. We understand the embarrassed moment of awkward silence when a possy of foreign magi step into the house and announce that they've brought gifts for the new king. Our heart bleeds for a generation of slaughtered children that shortly followed because of a jealous king's paranoia. We often like to conveniently forget that part. And yet, that's real life and we can take comfort in the fact that Jesus was born like a normal baby to normal people with a few little signs but nothing especially grand or wonderful.
Okay, at least those are my thoughts on the subject...points to you if you read through this entire sermon. If you did, however, what are some things that you can think of that make the real story more comforting than the PG version?
In light of this I'm going to share an old Irish Carol which I know I've featured in a previous year but I love it so much that I'm going to do it again. Consider what God has done for you, let's not shy away from looking the facts between the eyes, we might find that they're actually not all that bad.
~ Christianna
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