First Mass of the Nativity

Isaiah 9:2-4,6-7
Titus 2:11-14
Luke 2:1-14

+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

Despite myself, I bought my first Christmas tree a few days ago. We did not decorate it, until this evening. So I had a few days to enjoy it, just for what it is: its smell, color, shape, its life and vivacity. It is a splendid object: it provides a sense of warmth, stability, and security, a hearth, a focal point for family life. Yet, people do make a raucous about them. It seems that almost every year we hear stories of schools and communities banning them because they see it as a Christian symbol. What is more stunning is that the Church has a history of condemning Christmas trees, supposedly on account of their pagan origin. The Pilgrims outlawed celebration of Christmas, and that heritage has had some staying power. Christmas trees were too controversial, too pagan, too inappropriate for the White House until the very late 19th century. Today some still see Christmas trees as symbolic of commercialism and secularism invading the Church and spoiling Christian tradition. Through the centuries, however, the mainstream of the Church has associated the Christmas tree with the Tree of Life, and with Christ's cross, which gives us eternal life. The evergreen, which faithfully retains its color despite cold and snow, reassures us of the return of life and warmth; it suggests immortality. The lights and ornaments make it radiant and show forth the light and beauty of Christ. The star at its peak guides the wise men to this new life. The Christmas tree may be secular, but it certainly proclaims the gospel.

Some extreme circles, be they Protestant or Catholic, also hold Santa Claus in contempt. He is maligned as an unholy, commercial concoction to promote profits and consumption, that he fosters greed and envy. It is easy to be cynical and to forget that gift giving is not a mere commercial benefit, that it is not just a hassle. We need to remember that, more profoundly, gift giving is a recognition of commitment, obligation, affection, gratitude, something that strengthens relationships. One of the great reliefs and pleasures of Christmas is that it encourages us to suspend our cynicism, and that is especially true of Santa. Our Lord is about giving and spreading joy, about staying up all night in sacrificial offering, about wonder and mystery. Doesn't Santa Claus, Father Christmas, complement our Lord? What child does not get a bit nervous in December? Every child knows that he's not been good. Every child knows that there wouldn't be a great injustice if he received coals and switches. But every child receives good gifts. It should remind us of our Lord's judgment of us. He gives life and good things to everyone, and especially to those who will receive them. All of life is about preparing ourselves to receive his gifts, his mercy, and to receive them with the simplicity and enthusiasm and un-abashed joy of a child at Christmas.

Flannery O'Conner remarked that we sometimes suffer more from the Church than for the Church. Objections to Christmas trees and Santa Claus are mostly silly and sometimes even dangerous and certainly not Christian. While not explicitly Christian, Christmas trees and Santa Claus for the most part promote the gospel. They have also done much to domesticate the Christmas celebration, which for centuries was primarily marked by drunken revelry. They have done a lot to mask Christmas' origin in the Roman Saturnalia. To some extent we can thank Christmas trees and Santa Claus for making the feast a family occasion, a moment when the world calms down, stops, even becomes reflective, rather than being a wild party. Our culture now has its Saturnalia on New Year's Eve, instead of Christmas Eve. The Church choose December 25th to celebrate the birth of our Lord to challenge pagan religion, to challenge the Saturnalia, to assert herself confidently, to Christianise and to civilise culture. The Church has always taken secular things, even pagan things, things like Christmas trees and Santa Claus, and made them holy; when the Church is healthy and alive, the sacred takes profane forms and sanctifies them. This is the Incarnation. The Divine becomes human and sanctifies humanity; the spiritual takes the physical and sanctifies it. This is the heart of our religion. God does not save us from our physicality; he does not save us from material things, but through material things.

I love the Church, and my knee-jerk is always to defend her, but we often go overboard, whether we are left-wingers or right-wingers, and we distort the gospel. The biggest barrier to the Christian message may not be secularists and advertisers, but Christians. We start mixing our agendas with God's, and we get it wrong. What keeps the Church alive, and vibrant, and changing lives, and what keeps bringing people to her at Christmas, is her story. S. Luke's story of our Lord's birth warms us and gives us hope even while being a parody, a parody of the world and its ways, a parody of some of our worst features.

Why are you here tonight? What is special about Christmas? One of the reasons is that human beings have a innate attraction to our Lord's life, to a cuddly baby who challenges the world, who changed the world, who continues to change our lives. One of the most attractive qualities of Americans is our egalitarianism. When we are at our best, and that happens more often than the cynical acknowledge, when we are at our best, we know that God loves every person equally, infinitely, that no one person is better or more favoured in God's eyes, and therefore that we all ought to treat everyone, regardless of their birth, wealth, race, education, everyone with respect; everyone has dignity. And that means there is some truth in the cliche about Americans loving the underdog, the person dismissed, marginalized, over-looked. That person is our Lord.

Why are you here tonight? Why have you traveled through the rain and snow? What we are celebrating tonight is what ennobles our lives; it gives them depth and warmth and belonging; it assures us of our dignity and purpose. At our best moments, we know this. What we do in this parish is learn to follow it, to try to trust it. It's right there in tonight's gospel. Luke shows us two points of view about life. Luke subtly parodies Caesar Octavius, who had changed his name to Augustus, meaning ‘the exalted.' Caesar Augustus is about himself; his purpose in life is to build himself up, to make a name for himself. He is the Emperor of Rome, the ruler of the world, the master of the universe. The king lives in the heart of civilisation; he receives the praise and adulation of the best, the brightest, the powerful. He indulges in every luxury we could imagine, and some we probably could not.

Our Lord's name, Jesus, means ‘God saves,' or ‘Jehovah helps.' It points not to himself, but to his Father. Jesus is born in a stable to an obscure family in a remote corner of the world. His throne is a crude, filthy manger. Throughout his life, he would have no place to lay his head. But at his Nativity, he did have worshippers. Shepherds, the most humble people of Israel, scorned for their lax religious observance, receive a revelation from God, and they come and worship this helpless, barely conscious baby. They come and behold him and a stunned, courageous new family.

God has entered humanity; he sanctifies ordinary things. God wants us to discover himself in ordinary life, things we know about, things all around us. He is there. We have to be open to childlike wonder, open to the possibility. We have to search a bit. We have to trust our instincts a bit, trusting not naively as a child trusts, but as an adult trusts with sincere, probing questions.

Every one of us knows instinctively that the beginning of Jesus' life points to what is true, what is real; that it's humane and personal rather than remote and cold like Augustus, like the way of the world; that it's about wonder rather than cynicism; that it's about trust and love rather than palace intrigue and clashing egos. That is why the angels sing of Jesus. They sing of peace on earth, real peace, not peace based upon power and cunning. They sing of goodwill that is not based upon calculation, goodwill that is not based upon expecting something in return. The angels know that God gives freely. They know that God brings joy and happiness wholly apart from economic fortune. They know that God brings unity without coercion. They know that God is about free-will and love, not imposed order and fear.

I hope that tonight you, too, see and hear those angels, however faint. For that is why this church is here. We exist to help your search. We do not always agree with one another, we make mistakes, we are not perfect, but we seek God, and when we are at our best, we'll stake our lives on him. For we have discovered, gradually discovered, but definitely discovered, that God has entered our lives and has made them richer and fuller. That's what we offer here because that is what God offered in Bethlehem. The real Christmas gift is Christ.

Merry Christmas, and God's peace and goodwill to you!

+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.