The Rev. Peter M. Carey Christmas Eve Sermon 25 December 2017

The Rev. Peter M. Carey

Christmas Eve Sermon

24 December 2017

May Almighty God, who sent his Son to take our nature upon him, bless you in this holy season, scatter the darkness of sin, and brighten your heart with the light of his holiness. Amen.

May God, who sent his angels to proclaim the glad news of the Savior’s birth, fill you with joy, and make you heralds of the Gospel. Amen.

May God, who in the Word made flesh joined heaven to earth and earth to heaven, give you his peace and favor. Amen.

The scene painted in our minds eye depicted by St. Luke is a powerful one.  The scene we have imagined many times on this blessed evening as we recount the story of Jesus birth.  In the midst of an occupied land, with the threat of Imperial power, a mother and a father bring a baby into the world, a vulnerable trio in the midst of this place.  Not in an Inn, but rather out in the manger, the shed, the barn, instead of nurses or doctors or midwives or doulas, they are surrounded by animals.  Of course the visitors who arrive are equally unlikely, shepherds from the fields with their sheep, and a retinue of the heavenly host of angels, and finally, most improbably they receive visitors from the East.  An incredible and shocking scene.  The hope for the world swaddled in bands of cloth in a barn, in the midst of the troubles and challenges of the world - in the midst of this place - JOY -  in the midst of this time - HOPE - in the midst of these visitors - LOVE.  

The first creche was created by St. Francis of Assisi, who thought that this would be a wonderful way to retell the story of the Birth of Jesus, and also help people to see and experience the story in a real and tangible way.  The goal was not to highlight mere sentimentality, but rather to make clear the reality of the Incarnation, the real way that God became human, and that this incarnation was not a one-time moment, but because of the nativity of Jesus, and his presence among us, the incarnation is a present reality for all time.  

We sing, “Love came down at Christmas”, and this love was not merely for those who witnessed the birth of Jesus those two thousand years ago, but also for us here today, and everyday.  God’s love was so full, so powerful, so overflowing that the love poured out here among us.  While Francis is often solely remembered for his love of animals, he was deeply orthodox and grounded in his understanding of the incarnation, of Emmanuel, “God with us.”

As we consider the Incarnation on this rich and holy night, we might also adopt the mind of Mary, who “pondered these things in her heart.”  These profound and wonderful words give us a model of response to the events surrounding Jesus birth.  Ponder them, consider them, pray on them, hold them gently, allow your heart to enter into the overflowing love of God, sit with this moment, and ponder it.  

The first creche must have been an amazing thing to experience, can you imagine the good folks of Assisi happening upon this birth scene of Jesus, and not merely as a painting on a church wall, but in tangible, three-dimensional form.  Happening upon the nativity scene in the crowded streets of Assisi must have been shocking and surprising, not unlike the birth of Jesus itself.  

If you have ever visited a life-size nativity scene, or if you have ever played a role in a Christmas Pageant, you might have experienced the powerful sense of this story.  I, myself, have played several roles in Christmas Pageants over the years.  Beginning as a donkey with a smelly papier-mache mask over my head, I was terrified that I would make a mistake - and, I believe it was my first time being up in front of people in church.  Through the years, I was a shepherd, a magi, Joseph, and finally a narrator, the voice of Luke, telling the story from the lectern as it came to life in that church nave.  How about you, where do you imagine yourself in the scene?

Not merely seeing the scene on a screen or on the wall of a church, but experiencing the scene in such a way that there might be a place for you in the manger.  Where might you be standing?  Perhaps a lowly animal, though humble, still very nearby the baby.  There is room for you there.  

Perhaps a visiting shepherd, straight from work, dirty, hungry, smelly, and yet, there is room for you as well.  

Perhaps a guest at the inn, leaving the inn for a walk, and hearing noises, you walk around back where you see a most amazing sight, animals, shepherds, a man, a woman, a baby in a manger.  What is this?  There is room for you, too.  

Perhaps you are from far away, and you are a person of science, of facts, not faith, of observation, not imagination.  But here you are, incredibly.   There is room for you.  There is room for all of us, and, amazingly, even though there is room for us, there is room for us to welcome more.  We each have a front seat in the theater, a courtside seat to see the event, there is a prime seat for you, and there are seats for us all.  We sit, we experience the Joy, the Hope, the Love, which has come alive.  There is room for all to sit and ponder.  There are no turf wars while pondering.  There is no resentment over who sits where.  There is no jealousy but only welcome and hospitality.  We may pray, “Where two or three are gathered in his name, he will be in the midst of us,” but in the midst of the Lord, there is room for all.   As we ponder, as we worship, we are one with one another.  In the light of the Love of God we are enlivened by one another, we are made whole through one another while Christ is among us, and within us.  

Grant, O God, that your holy and life-giving Spirit may so move every human heart, that barriers which divide us may crumble, suspicions disappear, and hatreds cease; that our divisions being healed, we may live in justice and peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Christmas Eve Sermon ~ "Let your light shine"

Christmas Eve Sermon

The Rev. Peter M. Carey

Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, VA

24 December 2011 – Isaiah 9:2-7

The darkness is gone, and the light shines.  The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.  We remember the light that came into the world, in the person of Jesus Christ.  But we do not merely remember, like some hazy photograph; some grainy 90mm film shown in the living room.  No, this is not a memory hidden in the past.  No, this is not a memory that will fade when our own memory of it fades.  This is remembrance that happened in the past, but this is remembrance that continues today.  The incarnation of God in the person of Jesus Christ happened those 2000 years ago, but the incarnation of God in our world is a happening that happened even in the beginning of the world and is a happening that happens today, and every day. 

This is a day when we remember the light that came into the dark world, and when we also recognize the light that is enlightening the world always.  If you merely close your eyes, you will see some darkness, but even now, in this place, in this glowing place of light and life, even our eyelids cannot shut out the light of these candles, lovingly arranged here for us.  No, our eyelids cannot shut out the light of these mere wicks and wax.  The light of these candles shines, even in the midst of the darkness of this night.  And so, also, the light of Christ shines, and could not be extinguished by small-minded people of his time, or by the petty darkness of our world; and cannot be covered by the things of the world. 

The light of Christ has shined with celestial brightness, filling the world with its light. 

We began Advent praying to God, “give us grace to cast away the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light” as we prepared, once again, for God’s in-breaking into the world.  We began Advent by asking God to help us prepare for Christ’s coming, and to help us move into that place where we could, with Mary, “ponder these things in her heart.” 

We also prayed that God would give us the wisdom and vision of John the Baptist as he saw that something entirely new would enter the scene.  The people went out there to the wilderness and thought they had reached their destination, but John was not the destination, but a mere signpost along the way.  He pointed to one that was greater than himself, and he pointed to the true light that would come into the world, and who would baptize us with FIRE and the Holy Spirit.

And so, with our companions Mary, who pondered, and John the Baptist, who prepared, we have walked the dark pilgrim road of Advent, pondering and preparing.  We have walked the way of Advent while we also have put on the armor of light. We have looked deep within to find the hope and joy that God has given us, and we have projected our own bit of light into the world so that others could see a bit of the light of Christ. 

“This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine, let it shine let it shine let it shine.”

The light shines, even amidst all those things of the world that aim to blow it out, or cover it, or wash it away.  Our light shines because the light of Christ shines. 

Our own light is much like one of these candles, but it is not a mere candle with a wick that can burn away, and it is not a mere bit of wax that can burn into oblivion.  Our own light our own life, is given to us on this night.  Our own lives are given to us, they are gifts, as the gifts that we might open tonight or tomorrow.  Our own lives are gifts given to us by God, our own lives are energized the light of Christ, that has flowed into the world.  Our own lives are empowered by the ever-flowing energy of God, the every present goodness, love, and mercy of God, ever flowing, ever empowering us, ever present with us.

On this dark night, let your light shine. On this dark night, let the light of Christ warm you, give you life, and light, and hope in the darkness.  Let the light of Christ give you joy and peace and love, so that you can share that light with the world.  Put on the armor of light, for God has cast away the works of darkness, and filled the world with celestial brightness. May we see it, may we be it, this night, and evermore! 

Christmas Eve Sermon ~ "This strange story" ~ Lessons & Carols

The Rev. Peter M. Carey

Christmas Eve Sermon

Lessons and Carols Service

Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, VA

We have heard the glorious story of the reign of God.   The nine lessons we have just heard are signposts along the journey of God’s people as they made their way in the world.  From Genesis 3 and the temptation and Fall, through the promise to Abraham, through the glorious visions of Isaiah and the depictions of the Incarnation in the words written by Luke, and Matthew and John, we have heard an overview of this great story of God. 

Here, in these words, so wonderfully read by members of our Emmanuel family, we hear the story of God.  This story is not merely a bed-time story, and is not merely a story to be analyzed and dissected by scholars and priests.  No, this story is meant to be the map that helps us to orient and situate our lives. 

Like a compass and coordinates on a map, these stories are knit together and give us direction so that we might live and move within the reign of God.  If these stories merely charm us, and if these carols merely entertain us with their melodies, we have missed the greater and deeper point of these stories, and song.

Allow yourself to hear these words anew this year, this Christmas.  Can we allow these words to strike our ears with the gift of newness?  If we do, we may hear the story of God and God’s people sound wholly other-wordly to us.   And so they should.  Karl Barth described this as, “entering the strange new world of the Bible,” and it can sound quite strange. 

A man and a woman walking in a garden, being tempted by a serpent, and disobeying their creator.  God promising to a very very old man who has no children that he will be given descendents like the stars in the sky and the grains of sand on the earth, a prophet describing a child who will be born and who will redeem the world, visions of a great tree growing from a mere shoot, of wolves lying down with lambs, and a child will play nearby snakes. 

This is strange stuff, no?  And what of the strangest of all, of a child being born, in an occupied land, to an unwed mother among animals and straw, and then being visited by dirty shepherds and wild magicians from the East.  And this child, somehow, in some way, is the child who will redeem the world!  This child, this child will save the world!?

This is a strange story, this strange story of Jesus.  It is a story that stands in sharp contrast to the other stories our world.  This story is a story of God’s work triumphing over all. 

This story is a story of impossible figures and plot turns.  This story is a story of hope overcoming all hopelessness.  This story stands up against the stories of alienation and separation and fear and hatred, which dominate the daily airwaves.  This story of the long journey of God’s people, culminating in the birth of God as a child, Jesus, in the midst of the everyday and ordinary chaos of life, is a story that we desperately need to hear. 

When we overly sanitize the story we miss out on its depth and gift.  When we dive into the story and have ears to hear, we may hear that this is a story of God conquering over every human doubt.  This is a story of God coming among us, and within us, and being born, so that we too, might be born anew. 

Jesus said, I have come so that you might have life, and have it abundantly!  Abundance!  Gift!  Jesus has come as the gift of God.  God has given himself as a gift to us.  In Jesus we encounter the most remarkable and fear-some (awe-some) gift.  All we can do is round up our own petty gifts and lay them down, and hope that they might show God that we are thankful.  We round up our gold, our frankincense, our myrrh, and we hope that these inadequate gifts might show God that we recognize the great gift that God has given us. 

This story recounts the long journey of God’s people, from Genesis, through the Prophets, to the Gospels, and we sing praises to God for all we have received, and we pray that we too, might offer our own chapter to this great narrative.  We hope that our own voices raised in song and praise might show forth our love for God, and our recognition that all God has done for us.  We hope that our voices raised in song will cast out the fear that resides in us so that we might live the lives that God has given us.  We hope that through the retelling of these strange stories and the raising of our voices we might truly live abundant lives knowing that our story is one of life, and love.

“All things came into being through him, and without him not one things came into being.  What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people.”

On this dark night, let your light shine. On this dark night, let the light of Christ warm you, give you life, and light, and hope in the darkness.  Let the light of Christ give you joy and peace and love, so that you can share that light with the world.  Put on the armor of light, for God has cast away the works of darkness, and filled the world with celestial brightness. May we see it, may we be it, this night, and evermore!  

24 December 2009 - Christmas Eve Sermon

Christmas Eve Sermon

24 December 2009

The Rev. Peter M. Carey

Emmanuel Episcopal Church

The people who walked in darkness

have seen a great light;

those who lived in a land of deep darkness –

on them light has shined.

~

For unto us a child is born,

unto us a son is given.

~Isaiah 9

Sing to the Lord a new song;

sing to the Lord, all the earth.

~

Let the heavens be glad, and let the earth rejoice;

let the sea roar, and all that fills it;

let the field exult, and everything in it.

Then shall all the trees of the forest sing for joy

before the Lord.

~Psalm96:11-12

“I bring you good tidings of great joy which should be for all people.”

~Luke 2:10

Light – the light of heaven has been lit here on the face of the earth.  A deep and abiding light that shined only in the heavenly courts has been sent to earth, and once here, this light lasts forever.  As earlier peoples sought comfort in the returning light of the Sun, God has sent a Son who is the light who comforts all peoples.  Here, in this feast of Christmas, the feast of the Incarnation, we celebrate and recognize the light that has been sent into the world, a light that brings hope to our hopelessness, a light that gives courage to our fearfulness, a light that gives joy to joylessness.  God has stooped down and reached down into the manger in Bethlehem to become known in the world.  God has stooped down and brought light to the world in the baby Jesus.  God has stooped down and lit every candle of every heart with a fire that is ever-present, always warming, and never extinguished.  The people who have walked in darkness have seen a great light, those who lived in a land of deep darkness, on them light has shined.

And we are they!

Whether or not we always feel this light in our hearts, the light is there.  Whether or not we always see the light, the light is there.  The magic of Christmas includes glimmers of that light in various forms and in surprising places and spaces.  We may look back to Christmases past feel something quite deep and rich that we haven’t felt in a long time.  We may remember the gift of a present under the tree, or the gift of a grandparent’s presence and love for us, giving us glimmers of the gift of God’s presence in our lives.  We may watch one of many holiday tv shows and find ourselves getting choked up when the Grinch’s heart grows three times that day. 

“He didn’t stop Christmas from coming, it came just the same!”  There is a deep and abiding power of the Spirit that can feel more alive, and more tangible in this holiday time.  This deep and abiding power can lead us to wonderful and joyful places.  Conversely, this deep and abiding power can lead us to places of sadness, and the blues.  But this too, can be a gift to us, perhaps helping us to focus our attention on what really matters, perhaps allowing us to remember that though we go through peaks and valleys, the miracle of Christmas is that God is with us always – God with us – Emmanuel.

New song - and so, we sing a new song, we “sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth.”  God is with us, and we rejoice. We light lights and we sing songs, and the psalmist reminds us to sing to the Lord a new song.  This song is a song of hope, a song of rejoicing, a song of glory for the Lord.  This song is a song that everything in the whole creation sings.  The sea roars, the field exults, and everything in it.  And even the trees, the trees!  This new song is sung by even the trees, “all the trees of the forest sing for joy, before the Lord.”  All of creation sings for joy for this new song, this new reality that has been brought down to the world.  As sunshine covers the world, so God’s grace and love covers us, and the entire creation. 

The trees and all the creation sings for joy.  How strange you might say.  But then, C.S. Lewis puts language into the mouths of animals in his Narnia books.  There, the snow covered the entire land of Narnia because the Lord had not returned.  Snow covers the earth because Aslan had not yet returned, but the animals, and the entire land awaits his coming.  All of the land sings for joy when they hear that “Aslan is on the move!” 

The deep and abiding power of Aslan is a deep power that is beyond the paltry magic of the White Witch.  The deep and abiding power of Aslan is warmer, and richer, and stronger than any magic we might imagine.  It passes human understanding.  It is like the warm sun shining upon an icy driveway.  God’s love and deep care for us is like a sunny 85 degree day after a long and icy winter freeze.  If you’ve spent any time trying to chip away at the snow and ice, you will find that all your efforts are eclipsed by the warmth of the sun.  We can spend a lot of time and energy trying to chip away at our own ice and chilliness, but God’s grace will blast it all to bits.

“Then shall all the trees of the forest sing for joy before the Lord.”  We sing this new song as we are willing to receive the grace and allow it to transform our lives.  We sing with joy as we remember the gift of this night.  We sing with joy to behold the presence of God in Jesus in the humble manger.  We sing with joy to behold him among us. 

Joy – the birth of Jesus is the decisive fulfillment of that “always coming” reign of God – and yet we still look forward to the fullness of that reign when Christ will come in glory. 

“For behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which should be to all people, to you is born in the city of David, a savior which is Christ the Lord, and this shall be a sign unto you: you shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.”

“I bring you good tidings of great joy which should be for all people.”

May the light of the Lord shine bright in dark places, illuminating your hearts, giving you deep joy so that you may sing a new song, for unto you is born this day a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. Amen.