SERMON ~ 12/24/2013 ~ “The Glory of God”

12/24/2013 - 12/25/2013 ~ Nativity of the Christ, Known in Some Traditions as the Feast of the Incarnation, Known in other Traditions as the Feast of the Birth of the Messiah, Commonly Known as Christmas Eve and Christmas Day ~ Proper I ~ Isaiah 9:2-7; Psalm 96; Titus 2:11-14; Luke 2:1-14, (15-20) ~ Proper II ~ Isaiah 62:6-12; Psalm 97; Titus 3:4-7; Luke 2:(1-7), 8-20 ~ Proper III ~ Isaiah 52:7-10; Psalm 98; Hebrews 1:1-4, (5-12); John 1:1-14.

The Glory of God

“An angel of God suddenly stood before them and the glory of God shone around them— and they were terrified.” — Luke 2:9.

Benjamin did not know his father.  Neither did he know his mother.  His parents were never present to him.

Left on the street when he was an infant, he had been abandoned.  A couple from the village took him in.  By the time he was ten he was living on the streets of Bethlehem.  By the time he was eleven he was part of a gang, hoodlums.

By the time he was twelve, he was adept at stealing fruit off carts at the bazaar without being noticed.  By the time he was thirteen, he could easily climb a fence, gently pick up a chicken, keep the foul from squawking, be back over the fence and off with it in moments.  Often it would be hours before anyone noticed the count of birds was off.

Many people knew exactly who he was.  Most looked on him with scorn.  Many people knew exactly who was in the gang.  Most people looked on the gang with scorn.

The gang was, however, family to him, family for him.  And they were family to one another, looked out for one another.

When any one of them was sick, the gang offered care, protection, food, shelter.  They lived together in tents set up in a field, not far from town.

Occasionally the local authorities would come from the village, burn tents to the ground, scatter whatever else they found.  The gang would rally, rebuild their tents still further out into the hills.  (Slight pause.)

As Benjamin grew older— he was now seventeen— he moved into the leadership ranks of the gang.  And he realized the problem with being a crook is the profession relies on opportunity.  An opportunistic profession is always feast or famine.

When you steal chicken or fruit, it’s feast.  But days might pass before another opportunity presented itself— famine.  (Slight pause.)

Eventually, the gang decided moving still further out into the fields was smart, since they— the gang— had made peace with many farmers who were scattered over the hills away from the village.  That peace grew from the fact that they had started to tend sheep for the farmers.

Sheep will eat nearly anything.  The farmers needed someone to herd the sheep, to keep them away from the crops.  Benjamin’s rag-tag crew may have been hoodlums, brigands, in town.  But out in the hills they were just what the farmers needed.

This was hard work, marginal work.  But it gave the gang just enough food and shelter to exist.  Unlike the feast or famine business of burglary, it offered consistency.  There was always just enough.  Somehow, if felt peaceful— like a sanctuary.  (Pause.)

And so, on a cold spring night the gang gathered outside their tents around a soft fire. [1]  The full moon was as bright as Benjamin had ever seen it.  In the distance they could hear jackals howling.  (Slight pause.)

Benjamin once had a conversation with a Rabbi who told him ritual was important and prayer was important.  So, as their leader, Benjamin had developed a ritual they followed before turning in each night.

They stood in a circle.  They held hands.  They prayed.  They felt mutual support.  They felt energy transfer from hand to hand to hand to hand.  They were... family.  (Pause.)

That night he was unsure what happened as they prayed.  No one else in the gang could ever explain what happened, either.

All they knew was this: first, everything was suddenly dark.  A full moon had been there moments ago.  It was gone.  Darkness surrounded them.

They were family, so they tightly held onto each other’s hands.  And, despite or perhaps because of that hold on one another, it felt as if they were they were levitating.  Their feet no longer touched the ground.  (Slight pause.)

And then there was light.  Or was it light?  If felt like light, but it could not really be seen.  It was more like a presence— like the Hebrew word kabod— glory: the presence of God.  That was as close as any of them could come to describing how it felt.

And that was how they later described it: whatever was happening, was not seen.  It was not heard.  It was a presence.  It was felt.

Then there was something which sounded like a voice.  But the voice was not heard, either.  It was felt.  Again, the Hebrew word kabod— glory— seemed apt.  The presence of God was close.  That was the only way any of them could describe it.  (Pause.)

Suddenly they were again standing around the fire.  The moon was full.  The jackals screeched.  Yet something had changed.  They felt at peace.  They did not know what to make of it.  (Slight pause.)

They were unsure why, but together, they started to drift toward town.  When they were on the outskirts, they wandered toward a barn.  They found a man, a woman, a newborn.

They formed a circle.  They held hands.  They prayed.  This time there was no darkness.  But there was this same presence— kabod— glory.  Was it because of a child?

Benjamin looked around and saw... family.  He had not known his father.  Neither had he known his mother.  His parents were never present to him.  But he sensed this child was present to him, present to them.  It felt... safe.

The child seemed to be somehow present to everyone in the circle, present to the family.  He did not feel abandoned.

Was that possible?  Could a child have that kind of presence— a sense of kabod— a sense of glory.

He did not know.  He squeezed the hands of the shepherds on either side of him.  They all let go.  In unison they nodded to the man.  They nodded to the woman.  They bowed to the child.  They turned and headed back toward the hills.

As they walked Benjamin had but one thought— kabod— a sense of the presence of God.  Is it real?  Is it possible?  Can even lowly shepherds be so blessed as to experience the real presence of God?  (Slight pause.)

 Maybe that was what the presence of God— the glory of God— is about.  It is about God Who is present, Who is real to all people, no matter who they are.  (Slight pause.)

As they wandered back toward the hills Benjamin fully realized kabod was what he felt in the presence of the baby.  And that was when Benjamin also fully realized there was something he had to do.

He had to tell everyone he met that God is real, that God is present for everyone.  After all, God was present in the child.  Amen.

12/24/2013 ~ Christmas Eve
United Church of Christ, First Congregational, Norwich, New York

ENDPIECE: It is the practice of the Pastor to speak after the Closing Hymn, but before the Choral Response and Benediction.  This is an précis of what was said: “I have often said Christmas is the most important Christian feast on the secular calendar.  At the very least for we Christians Easter, Pentecost, the Epiphany and Trinity Sunday should be counted as more important than Christmas.  Which is not to say Christmas lacks importance. It is to say we need to reclaim Christmas as a Christian feast.  In an effort to reclaim real Christmas, let me make a suggestion, one I make each year.  Please do not wish people a ‘Merry Christmas.’  When you greet someone say ‘Happy Christmas.’  People can be merry about the new year, but let’s be happy about what we celebrate tonight: the birth of the Messiah, present in our midst.  Further, if we are really interested in putting Christ in Christmas, we need to feed the hungry, clothe those in tatters, care for the ill, etc., etc., etc.”

BENEDICTION: Hear now this blessing from the words of the Prophet Isaiah in the 60th chapter (Isaiah 60:19-20a): The sun shall no longer be / your light by day, / nor for brightness shall the moon / give you light by night; / for Yahweh, God, will be your everlasting light, / and your glory. / Amen.

[1]  At the beginning of the service this was said: “Ancient Rome had a winter solstice celebration, celebrating the return of the sun and on their calendar the solstice was on the 25th of December.  It’s likely Christians adopted it to celebrate the birth of the Messiah, as we claim Jesus to be both the Messiah and the Light of God born to our lives.  Many scholars think Jesus was born in what we would call the year Four Before the Common Era and not in the winter but in the Springtime of that year.