Sunday 24 December 2017

Shepherds, Stargazers, and Us (Matt 2:1-12; Luke 2:8-20)


(Meditation for Gayton Road Christian Church's Christmas Eve Candlelight Service,  2017)



We Look Up to the Heavens

I don’t know about your Christmas family traditions.  But in my family, one of the perennial debates was what to place on top of the Christmas tree.  A star?  Or an angel?  Or simply a bow?  For days this debate could consume us.  One morning, I would wake up and walk by the living room, and a star would be resting serenly on top.  The next day, I would walk by, and lo and behold—an angel had supplanted it!

Much of Christmas happens above us.  We hang lights and bows above us, maybe holly or mistletoe.  And of course, stars and angels.  At Christmas we look up.

But are bright lights and beautiful ornaments the only reason we look up?  I wonder if we’re not looking up for more.

What do you really want this Christmas?  Many of us wouldn’t dare say it, or perhaps even think it, but a cure for our friends and family who are suffering senseless disease would be a good start.  And there are billions more in this world who are broken by poverty and hunger and oppression, not because they deserve that—who deserves that?—but because others do not care.  So an end to crooked business and bad guys and war would be nice, too, this Christmas. 

Are bright lights and beautiful ornaments the only reason we look up?  Perhaps in our heart of hearts, we’re looking up because we’re looking for God.  We’re looking for someone who will tear open the heavens and come to us with might and magic enough to set the world right. Perhaps Homer Simpson prays for all of us, when he exclaims, “I’m not normally a praying man…but if you’re up there, please save me, Superman!”[1]  “Superman” as a term of address for God may raise the eyebrows of theologians, but it captures very well what we are all looking up for from time to time: a divine fix.  A supernatural solution.[2]

The Heavens Point Us Back Down to Earth

We’re not alone looking up tonight.  The story of Christmas Eve is all about looking up.  The shepherds lift their eyes to the angels.  The wise men study a star. 

Both look up to the heavens.  If they are hoping for a supernatural solution or an immediate divine fix to the problems in their world, they will be sorely disappointed.  The heavens do not hold the answer.  The heavens point them back down to earth.  To a little child.  To a bundle of need, an armful of cries for food and warmth and love.  Less of a solution, and more of an invitation, you might say. 

Neither the shepherds nor the wise men are disappointed.  Quite the opposite.  Luke says that the shepherds glorified and praised God, and Matthew says that the wise men were overwhelmed with joy.

Whatever it is that we’re looking to the heavens for tonight—well, let’s not be surprised if we find instead that the heavens are pointing us back down to earth, not to a solution, but to an invitation—to the nooks and crannies in our own world where the little Christ cries and invites our love.  And even if that does leave us a little disappointed, let us not forget the shepherds and the stargazers and their joy.  What did they behold in that little child, I wonder, that led them back into a broken world rejoicing? 

Could we behold that tonight too?

Prayer

Child Christ,
With all our wishes
We look up to the heavens,
And the heavens point us
Down
To you:
Newborn and needy,
Speechless and helpless;
God with us,
An invitation to love.
Abide with us, Christ,
And invite us on your way.  Amen.




[1] The Simpsons, Season 9, Episode 24.
[2] This paragraph specifically, and this meditation more generally, owes its inspiration to Rachel Mann, “O That You Would Tear Open the Heavens,” ebook loc. 1883-1925 in Mann, A Star-Filled Grace (Glasgow: Wild Goose, 2015).

No comments:

Post a Comment