A Nativity Mystery

This Christmas Eve will be the next to the last Christmas Eve that I will serve as the pastor of a church. In June, 2018, I will fully retire from that aspect of ministry. I put it that way because I will remain open to other pastoral type duties (though "duties" seems too impersonal), such as occasional weddings or funerals. 

That being said, I know that I will miss being the pastor of a church in this season in particular because Christmas and Advent have long been my favorite. It's not that the rest of the year isn't meaningful; it most certainly is. But these seasons have a quality that reflects what a lot of us long for most in our lives: a joyful hopefulness that gives life a special spiritual richness. 

I realize, of course, that it isn't universally so. There are many people who go through a very difficult time at Christmas for various reasons. Sometimes it's because of having lost a loved one in the past year; sometimes there are financial issues that keep them up at night that are made even more painful by this season; sometimes they are suffering from severe loneliness. Those are just a few among many reasons that not everyone's experience of the holidays is what I just said--"joyful hopefulness."

Taking that into consideration, what I am referring to here in particular has to do with my 40 plus years as a church professional, involved in attempting to relay the message of the Nativity within the Church. It's not that every year has been completely fulfilling or wonderful. But they have each had their own gift to bring to the human spirit. 

One thing, though, that continues to be an ongoing unresolved theological mystery for me is what is responsible for the disconnect between the message of Christmas and the way we human creatures actually go about living our lives and treating one another. 

One thing may be that the way of Jesus--that we love our neighbor as we love ourselves--may seem too soft, too idealistic, too naive, and too risky. We prefer strength, power, and muscle-flexing postures. I once saw online a series of portrayals of Jesus by an artist whose image of Jesus was really bizarre. In his pictures, the Christ was wearing a sleeveless shirt, had huge bisceps with tattoos, and behind the image was an American flag. The statement was thus suggesting that Jesus and Christianity belonged specifically to the white people of the good ol' USA.

Well, of course, nothing could be further from the truth. Jesus (in his own language "Yeshua") was a Jew, was an olive skinned Middle Easterner, who spoke Aramaic, and stood probably about 5'6", judging from what is known anthropologically of the people of his time and place. The Christian faith and the stories therein do not belong to anyone. They represent something that had nothing to do with politics or power or nationality. 

Yet, in another sense, they belong to everyone who wishes to accept them as a gift for the whole human family. I pray in this season, before it is over and the trees come down and put curbside, and the Nativity sets are put away in a box and carried up to the attic, that we will all pause and give thanks that the birth of Christ also means Grace--i.e.-we still have a chance to truly live with compassion and hope and caring for one another and accepting one another regardless of our differences just as Christ has put before us as The Way. That doesn't rely on legislation or political posturing. It relies fully on love.