Luke 2:(1-7) 8-20
This sermon was given at St Mark’s Episcopal Church in Clifford, VA on Christmas morning in a short spoken service of Holy Eucharist.
For many of us, and indeed for much of the Western world, the religious crescendo of Christmas takes place on December 24th, Christmas Eve. Millions of people flood into churches and tune in to television, radio, and online transmissions of Christmas Eve services. We prioritize our best music for the Holy Night, we fill the darkness with candles and many churches reenact the Christmas story. Before or after services many families gather around tables to share food and fellowship, and maybe a present or two gets opened early. Many families sleep as late as the little ones allow, plenty of grandparents and aunts and uncles wake early to arrive in time for the excitement of discovering what has appeared under the tree. Often, Christmas Day services are much smaller, much simpler and quieter, like ours here this morning. By now, the frantic buzz of shopping, wrapping, cooking, and decorating might have faded a bit. Or maybe there’s more to do when you leave here, Christmas dinner to prepare and last minute wrapping to be done and packing for upcoming travel. Maybe you’re watching the time even now, hoping this will be a short sermon. Don’t worry, it is.
The beautiful clarity of the candlelit night and the exuberance of Joy to the World have faded a bit, and today is Christmas Day. The story isn’t different, but our perspective is. Last night I preached about the terrified shepherds and the amazing message they carried. This morning, a different part of the story resonates. “Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.” Before the shepherds went out and told everyone they met about the Messiah in the stable, they first told his mother. The first person to hear the story of the angels, the first person to see the effect Jesus’s life would have on others, was Mary, as she held her newborn in her weary arms. She took it all in, the words of the angels and the song of the heavenly chorus and the adoration of the breathless shepherds. This time, Mary doesn’t burst into song, or even strike up on conversation. She listens, and she ponders. Mary doesn’t just ponder in a sort of intellectual way, but in her heart, at the very center of who she is. Jesus’s mother ponders in her heart all the things that are said about him, the little baby born in a stable with no crib for his bed. On this Christmas Day, whether you return to a full schedule or a well-deserved nap, I hope you’ll take a little time to ponder, to treasure the beloved story and the little one who changed the world for you. O come let us adore him.
Mother A Writes 