As believers and followers of Jesus, we suspect that this strong holiday feeling of love must in some way spring from the birth of our Savior. But we’re left a bit puzzled when we have to explain exactly what the child born in Bethlehem has to do with young couples holding hands while they skate or pretty packages piled underneath a pine tree. How do we trace the connections down from the virgin mother and the angels and shepherds and wise men all the way to the joy we feel as we bake butter tarts and peppernuts and other Christmas sweets to share with loved ones?
Here’s the truth about love and Christmas: Jesus was born because of love and for love. Jesus was born because God loves us, and Jesus was born for the purpose of bringing God’s love to us. The good news of Christmastime doesn’t get any more simple than that. “God loved us and sent his Son” (Jn 3.16).
Every act of love in this season, and in every season, has the potential to echo or to reflect God’s greatest expression of love toward us. Sometimes our expressions of love mirror God’s love with a joyful holiness; sometimes what we think of love is barely a pale reflection, something in which we can recognize a trace resemblance to God’s love only with a lot of hard work and imagination. . .
What we often call love is a strange alloy. It’s part love--the kind of love God shows--and in large part something else. We mix in lust or fear or self-congratulatory pride. Sure, there are trace amounts of real love there, but mostly it’s our desire for possession or pleasure. There’s a bit of true love there, but it’s overshadowed by our fear of being alone, our fear that the other person will leave us. It’s polluted by how good we feel about ourselves for loving others so extravagantly.
What we need is some refining fire to purify our love. We need some North Star to set the compass of our love by.
Pop music may not be eloquent, nor often is it profound, but it definitely gives a good reading on widespread cultural sensibilities. And if it was true in 1968 when Sam Cooke first sang these words, it’s just as true today when Jarvis Church covers the tune on CBC Radio 2: Whatever we think about the holidays, most of us agree that the season is somehow about love.
Sometimes it’s romantic love--“falling in love.” I can’t count how many holiday films have this as part of their plot. Something in the holiday air causes romantic feelings to blossom and people to fall in love.
But the season is also about love at home, parents for children, grandparents for grandkids, aunts and uncles and cousins, brothers, sisters, and babies. We have big holiday meals around decorated dining room tables. Sometimes the kids have to sit at a folding card table or down in the basement. Maybe we get together to tell stories or to watch a holiday movie like How the Grinch Stole Christmas or Miracle on 34th Street or, my personal favorite, The Muppet Christmas Carol. And, at the best of times, it’s our love for one another (and not a sense of obligation) that motivates us to buy gifts for one another.
This season is all about love. We could add the love we have for friends, the camaraderie we share with co-workers, the cookies we carry next door to neighbors, the warm handshakes and hugs and cards we give and receive after a church service.
As believers and followers of Jesus, we suspect that this strong holiday feeling of love must in some way spring from the birth of our Savior. But we’re left a bit puzzled when we have to explain exactly what the child born in Bethlehem has to do with young couples holding hands while they skate or pretty packages piled underneath a pine tree. How do we trace the connections down from the virgin mother and the angels and shepherds and wise men all the way to the joy we feel as we bake butter tarts and peppernuts and other Christmas sweets to share with loved ones?
Here’s the truth about love and Christmas: Jesus was born because of love and for love. Jesus was born because God loves us, and Jesus was born for the purpose of bringing God’s love to us. The good news of Christmastime doesn’t get any more simple than that. “God loved us and sent his Son” (Jn 3.16).
Every act of love in this season, and in every season, has the potential to echo or to reflect God’s greatest expression of love toward us. Sometimes our expressions of love mirror God’s love with a joyful holiness; sometimes what we think of love is barely a pale reflection, something in which we can recognize a trace resemblance to God’s love only with a lot of hard work and imagination.
It’s not hard to see a picture of God’s love in a story like the one O. Henry told about the poor, newlywed couple who each sacrifice what they hold most dear to give a good gift to the other.
As I remember it, the story goes that woman had less than nothing, no beautiful dresses, no jewelry, no fine hats or fur coats. The only beauty she could claim was her long, dark hair. The man, too, had nothing fine or fancy about him. His treasure was a pocket watch given him by his father.
As Christmas approached, the money barely covered rent and heat. There was nothing left to buy a turkey for Christmas dinner, pretty packages for under the tree, or even a tree, for that matter. The young man dreaded the thought of meeting his bride empty-handed on Christmas morning. So late on Christmas Eve, after a long shift at the factory, he went to the pawn shop, and traded his treasured pocket watch for a few dollars. He then went and bought beautiful, ornate hair combs that his wife could place in her lovely hair. He got home late, placed the brown paper package on the table, and crawled into bed beside his bride.
The next morning as he woke, he could smell coffee brewing--how she had scrimped and saved for the luxury of coffee he didn’t know. He came out to the kitchen. His wife was still in a bathrobe, with a towel wrapped around her head. He pulled her to the table to give her the package he’d placed on it. As she untied the twine and unwrapped the gift, her eyes began to fill with tears. Her husband’s eyes were smiling. “Two beautiful combs to adorn the hair of a beautiful lady,” he said. Dabbing her eyes, she said quietly, “I got you something as well.” She handed a wrapped gift to him. He undid the paper and found an intricate gold chain. “It’s a chain for that pocket watch,” she said. She unwrapped the towel from her head. “I cut off all my hair and sold it to the wig-maker so that I could give you this.”
In O. Henry’s story, each sacrifices what is precious to them to give something precious to the other. Their gifts shine brightly a reflection of the gift God gave us. Maybe you have received a gift like that, perhaps a quilt hand-stitched over long hours or a delicious cake baked with patience and love. Perhaps family or friends drove long hours or bought expensive plane tickets to surprise you on Christmas Eve. Maybe a stranger stopped to help push your car out when you were stuck in the snow. Maybe the clerk at the pharmacy asked how your day was and really wanted an answer.
But our love doesn’t always mirror God’s free gift, God’s desire to set us free and bless us with joy and peace. Sometimes what we call love amounts to a one-night fling after the work holiday party. Sometime we think love means buying the most presents, or the most-expensive presents, for the grandkids. Sometimes we believe it’s loving to make excuses for a spouse or friend who mistreats us, who indulges in habits that harm them or others, who neglects us. It’s hard to see the outline of God’s true love in these circumstances. That’s because love here has been twisted, bent by our sin and a sin-sick world, so that it points in the wrong direction. Our compass is broken; it no longer points to true north, no longer points toward true love.
What we often call love is a strange alloy. It’s part love--the kind of love God shows--and in large part something else. We mix in lust or fear or self-congratulatory pride. Sure, there are trace amounts of real love there, but mostly it’s our desire for possession or pleasure. There’s a bit of true love there, but it’s overshadowed by our fear of being alone, our fear that the other person will leave us. It’s polluted by how good we feel about ourselves for loving others so extravagantly.
What we need is some refining fire to purify our love. We need some North Star to set the compass of our love by.
This is precisely what God gives us at Christmas. As Sam Cooke sang, in “the 12th month, on the 25th day, / A little child was born, yes . . . / . . . he came to show us what true love is.” Jesus is love’s North Star. He shows us what true love is, what true love looks like. When we look at him, when he comes to us, we can set the compass of our hearts right.
Earlier this morning we heard Mary’s Advent song. While Cindy read Mary’s song, candles were lit and candles were snuffed out. Mary’s song is about as far from a pop song as a song can possibly be. There’s a new pop song on the radio every three and a half minutes. Mary’s song is two thousand years old. Pop songs are written for market appeal, to move records and CDs and mp3s from retailers’ inventory. Scripture says Mary’s song comes from a pure heart of praise. But despite this distance, I think Mary was singing the same message that Sam Cooke or Jarvis Church sings today: Christmas means love.
Do you remember Mary’s story? She was a young woman from an out-of-the-way town up north in Galilee. When the story begins, her parents have just finished arranging her marriage to a good man from town, Joseph the carpenter. I’m sure Mary was excited, though perhaps a bit nervous, to begin to make a life and a home with him, to raise children together, to meet the neighbors as the new Mrs. Joseph the carpenter.
But then Mary gets a message from God. The angel Gabriel appears with news that Mary will soon become mother to a special child. The angel said,
“Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. Listen: You will become pregnant and give birth to a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give him the throne of his father David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and his kingdom will never end” (Lk 1.30-33).The angel’s words emphasize what a special baby this would be: “Son of god” was a title that emperors claimed for themselves, especially Caesar Augustus who was then ruling in Rome. An “eternal kingdom” was also a claim that Roman rulers like to make for themselves. Throughout Rome’s empire, even in far-flung Galilee, shrines were set up, and the populace was expected to offer incense to the “divine and eternal emperor Caesar.” Joseph was a good carpenter, but he was no emperor. No son of his would inherit a kingdom, Roman, Jewish, or otherwise. It’s no wonder Mary asked him, “But how can this be?”
Listen to the angel’s answer: “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore the child to born will be holy; he will be called the Son of God” (35). Caesar Augustus can say that he is the son of god all day long; it won’t make it any more true. Other human rulers and kings can shout as loudly as they want that their kingdom will endure for the ages; but every one of them crumbles into the dust of history. The baby Mary would bear, however, he would truly be God’s offspring; God’s Holy Spirit would father him. The angel Gabriel emphasized again that this baby would be “called the Son of God.”
Mary listened to this news. I can only imagine what went through her mind, what was happening in her heart in the silent moment before she responded to God’s messenger. What of her hopes with Joseph? What would he say? What would her family and neighbors think? What sort of child would this baby be?
Mary looked to the angel. “Behold, I am the Lord’s servant,” she said. “Let this happen to me just as you’ve said” (38). Bold words from a young girl. Brave words from a young woman who trusted God with everything. In this phrase she gave away all that was most precious to her, her dreams and hopes for a simple life with Joseph, for a normal family, because she loved her God. Mary acted out true love for God. She surrendered all of herself and became God’s servant.
Mary also acted in response to God’s love. As the apostle of love says in 1 Jn 4.19, We love because [God] first loved us. Christmas is the story of the birth of a child, and the birth of a child is wonderful picture of love as a reciprocal action, as a response. A mom does some very difficult work to bring a baby into the world. And after all that work, the baby doesn’t even think to say thank you. The kid only wants to eat, to be held, to sleep, to be cleaned up. For months and even years after birth, moms and dads make all sorts of sacrifices to act out their love for their child. And only very gradually, impartially, in developmental stage by developmental stage, does the child learn how to truly love her parents in return. Mom and dad have to show their children what true love looks like.
God loves us first. God shows us what true love looks like. God showed Mary what true love looks like. Mary praised God for this in the song she sang a few weeks later. This is the passage we heard read at the beginning of the sermon. Her song is often called The Magnificat, after its first words in the Latin translation used by the Roman Catholic church for centuries.
Mary’s song is a song about God’s love. When Mary said “Yes” to God’s message, we saw one picture of what love looks like. Love that is pure and unpolluted involves surrender. It involves sacrifice. We give away something good to someone else rather than clutching it close for ourselves. When Mary sings her song, we see another picture of love.
She begins in v 46 of Luke ch 1, praising God for remembering God’s people. She says,
“My soul exalts the Lord,Mary saw God’s love in this baby that was only weeks old within her. This baby, while it upset every part of her life, throwing her hopes in plans in disarray--this baby in her womb was evidence that God had not abandoned or forgotten the people he’d chosen for himself.
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant.
From now on all generations will call me blessed,
because He Who Is Able has done great things for me--
holy is his name.
From generation to generation he shows mercy
to those who fear him” (46-49).
Mary says that God has “been mindful of the humble state of his servant.” God pays attention. Love means paying attention. God’s love, true love, perseveres. God loves us with an everlasting love, a patient love, a committed love. Mary’s baby--this one-day king--brings us that kind of love.
Mary keeps singing. Picking up in v 51, she says,
“He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;God pays attention to us, but God is not content just to stand back and watch. God’s compassion overflows into action. When God sees the humble state of his servant, love compels him to become involved. God comes to deliver them from the warlords, the emperors and empires who leave them feeling humiliated and living on humble means. God steps into break open the storehouses and bank accounts that the well-off have hoarded for themselves in order that everyone gets enough to eat.
he has scattered those who are proud in their inner thoughts.
He has brought down rulers from their thrones
but has lifted up the humble.
He has filled the hungry with good things
but has sent the rich away empty” (51-53).
There’s a quote by an American philosopher and activist Cornel West that sticks with me. He said, “Justice is what love looks like in public.” God take his love for us public. We often feel that love is entirely personal, a feeling that lives in our hearts. But God’s love is public love. It’s a love that works justice and deliverance--beginning from when God brought the Israelites out of Egypt all the way to Jesus’ public ministry and death and resurrection and down to our world today.
In fact, in the final verse of her song, Mary roots God’s loving commitment to deliverance and justice for all further back, all the way back in the story of Abraham and Sarah. She says,
“[God] has helped his servant Israel,At Christmas we hear the story of the birth of a baby, a baby who would be our Messiah. That baby was God come to us, come to us as servant and come to us as king ready to dethrone all the people and powers and things that leaves billions of humans hungry, homeless, unloved and lonely, guilty and far from God.
remembering his mercy,
just as he promised to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to his descendants forever” (54-55).
In Mary’s song, we hear that this story is a love story. In this story, in this baby we meet and get to know and, hopefully, fall in love with and surrender all of our lives to God’s love. We see love that sacrifices, that pays patient attention and perseveres. We meet a love that brims over with compassion and overflows here and now with action to make things right. At its heart, we encounter a love, encounter a God and a baby, whose deepest commitment is to our deliverance, our salvation.
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