Sandston Presbyterian Church
A Sermon by Ken Goodrich
December 6, 2009
Scripture: Luke 2:8-12
“Christmas Gift”
In that region, there were shepherds out in the fields keeping watch over their flock by night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone ‘round about them, and they were filled with fear. But the angel said to them, “Be not afraid, for I bring you good news of a great joy which shall come to all the people. To you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you shall find a babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger.”
* * * * *
Well, that sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Not only is it the exact wording from the same passage I read last Sunday, but even if you were not here, chances are all of you over the age of, say, eight can recite those particularly precious verses from memory or come close to it, because we have most all of us heard and read them at least once a year, if not two or three or several times every December.
So, we know this story, don’t we? That it took place “in the days of Caesar Augustus,” who decreed a census throughout the Roman provinces, in response to which Joseph, who was of the house and lineage of David, went from Nazareth to Bethlehem, there to be enrolled with Mary, his betrothed, and since so many other pilgrims beat them to it, there wasn’t a room available in the inn, so they made do with a stable, where Mary gave birth to Jesus and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, while angels appeared to some shepherds in the fields nearby and sang them the announcement of this “good news” which would eventually be shared with all people, but on this night was reserved only for them, so that they could go to Bethlehem and “see this thing which has come to pass,” and just so, found Joseph, Mary, and the babe hunkered down alongside a couple of cows, a donkey, and a partridge in a pear tree.
We all of us know what this scene we refer to as the “Nativity,” looks like, don’t’ we, because we have seen the scene, either portrayed by actual people and real animals out on church lawns or lovingly placed on a mantle or coffee table in our and most everybody else’s home; a set-up that, by the way, does not reflect accurately the two different birth narratives from the gospels, since the star did not come to rest over the manger, nor the wise men go and kneel there, because that chapter of the story comes from Matthew’s version of it which nowhere mentions anything about a stable, manger, or shepherds, all of which is at the heart of Luke’s telling of it but has nothing to do with a star or any wise men, and yet, it is quite understandable and convenient for us to bring all the parts and people involved together under one roof, so to speak.
So, we know and can easily imagine it, or think we know and can clearly envision it, or certainly should know because we have heard, read, and seen it every year through all these years of Decembers: everything there is to know about this story. Hmm?
Well, I grew up in a Christian home and have been a member of one Presbyterian church or another my whole life long, which makes this my 58th Christmas—haven’t missed a one of them. I spent three of those years in Union Theological Seminary, graduating with distinction—I will not tell you “distinguished” in what—and during the last twenty-two of those years, I have been a bona-fide Minister of the Word, the “Word” being the entirety of this great big book here. Which means, I have not only read, silently to myself and loudly from a pulpit, these birth narratives from Matthew and Luke, but have read them in Greek, for goodness sakes. I have studied them meticulously, taught them thoroughly, preached them profoundly.
And until last Tuesday, when I finally looked it up, I had no idea what a “swaddling cloth” was. Well, that’s not true; I had an idea, it was just wrong. All these years, I simply assumed that “swaddling cloths” was a New Testament, first-century Palestinian way of saying baby blanket, or diapers, or one of those body-suits with the snap thingy down around…you know. After all, Jesus was a “swaddler,” so, naturally, his mother would dress him in swaddling clothes.
Okay, now that you have heard my confession, I am curious. How many of you know what “swaddling cloths” were?
Well, they were not “clothes,” so I apologize for all those Christmas Eve services in which I read “swaddling clothes,” because it sounded better and because I didn’t know what I was doing. They were strips or bands of cloth, wrapped tightly around newborns, in order to keep their arms and legs straight and so, supposedly, ensure that the infant will develop proper posture. See, then, I wasn’t all that far off thinking of a body-suit, with the exception of that snappy thing.
So, Christ…the Lord…Messiah…God’s son wrapped in swaddling cloths…which were used to protect infants, to ensure proper formation of a child’s limbs, to guard against possible deformity… as if he were not Christ, the Lord, Messiah, God’s son, but just anybody, anyone’s child, any infant.
Uhm, but Joseph, don’t you remember? That angel in your dream telling you that this child which was conceived in your bride-to-be is of the Holy Spirit—the Holy…Spirit, Joseph!—who would grow up to save God’s people? Don’t you remember, Mary, less than a year ago, Gabriel explaining all this to you, making those incredible promises that your son will become great, that his father God will give to him the throne of David, and of his kingdom there will be no end?
Joseph, Mary, this child, of all children, is perfected, will be well, cannot not be healthy. What’s with the swaddling cloths?
I may not go so far to say that Mary, being a Jewish mother, would think that God needed all the help from her he could get, since, as a “male,” God wouldn’t know half of what he was doing when it came to taking care of babies, but I will suggest there is some truth to that. Mary and Joseph did not wrap Jesus in swaddling cloths because he was God’s, but because he was theirs.
All those angelic visits and heavenly dreams and divine explanations and Godly promises notwithstanding, at his birth Jesus was Mary’s baby, Joseph’s boy. Conceived by the Holy Spirit, okay. Named, anointed, destined by God, fine. But once born, this child belonged to them.
Jesus was God’s to claim, and he most certainly did. God claimed him all the way to that cross…and beyond. But Jesus was also God’s to give, and he most certainly did and does that as well. To Joseph and Mary, to his people Israel as their Messiah, to you, to me, to all the rest of us as Savior, as Lord.
This child is ours to have and to hold. The man that child became is ours to believe and have faith in and follow. The cross on which he died is ours to live by. This table of his, this bread, this cup of him, is ours to take.
As much as Jesus was God’s, he is all the more ours by God’s giving him to us. Christmas Gift, indeed.
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