Sermon Blog
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Sermon Blog
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Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, Virginia
First Sunday of Christmas, Year B December 27, 2020 Christmas Day has happened. Even if different that most years, we did what we could to be merry and bright. Our soggy Christmas Eve came off beautifully! Thank goodness for the technology that helps connect us, and the warmth of homes that surround us. As a kid, I remember the days after Christmas to be a letdown. I was not alone in that. Even though the Church tells us that the Christmas season begins on Christmas Day and extends for 12 days until Epiphany, I was pretty much burned out on all the carols and decorations. The Sunday after Christmas was sounded like a retread of the Christmas service presided over by the least senior clergy person who struggled to keep our enthusiasm going. As I am the only one priest at Emmanuel here, you get me. I have been reading about Christmases past, Christmases in history when times were difficult. In tough times, the depression, war, plagues and pandemics dampened much of the season’s joy and left folks with little feeling of celebration. Nevertheless, the message of the season prevailed. As John’s gospel proclaims: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” Notice the words did not overcome it … it does not say might not or may not … its says did not. In becoming one of us, God announces that God lives and moves among us and in us. In my reflections of past struggles, I was intrigued by stories of British frontline soldiers in World War I. The battle lines and trenches were desolate, muddy, and freezing on Christmas Day in 1914. The way they waged that war involved agonizing waiting and static vigilance, punctuated by brutal and deadly episodes of shooting and shelling. Not much ground was traded. Not much was accomplished for the cost thousands of lives. The troops saw futility, but their leaders persisted in holding the line. As relief organizations attempted to boost morale and send support, boxes of chocolates and cigarettes flowed toward the front lines. The troops begged their superiors to negotiate a temporary ceasefire, to give them a break, to give them rest, and give them something to celebrate in the darkness and drear of what was known as no man’s land. Their requests were met with orders to stay the course. Any let down could result in giving the enemy an advantage. When Christmas Day came, the soldiers were packed into their positions. With no announcement or organization, some of them began to sing. “Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright.” Soon the whole regiment joined in and sang with heart and soul. And to their surprise, a few hundred yards away, they began to hear singing on the other side: Stille nacht, heilige nacht.” In what sounded to them a beautiful harmony, the singing swelled, orders to shoot and kill were set aside. Slowly, faces rose above the trench lines on both sides. Rifles were set aside in favor of song. This was how the peaceful Word of God overcomes the destructive orders of men. They rose out of their cramped and muddy holes, standing tall and looked into the faces of their enemies. They moved closer to one another, exchanged greetings, shook hands, and shared cigarettes and chocolate (the German chocolates being highly prized). Someone produced a soccer ball and a game broke out, and for a time, they were just boys playing their game and seeing each other as fellow humans: children of God. As evening fell, they returned to their assignments. Fearing reprisals from their commanding officers, they took up their positions once again. The games were over and the war was on again. If it had been left up to those soldiers, they would have all gone home, but tragically, the principalities and powers this world had other plans. This moment of grace lives on in the remembering and telling of this story. It stands in stark contrast of the way of God’s love over against the sort lived mercy of men. The Prince of Peace broke through the lines that divided them, and granted them a vision of Christmas: the insistent promise that light overcomes darkness. If we are feeling a little blue, that is part of the longing for hope, and hope is never lost so long as the Word of God is heard, embodied, and welcomed in our daily intentions. We have a ways to go in navigating our current struggles. The meaning of the Light is that we will rise out of the cramped spaces of our isolation. The Word of God is a living thing: sharp and clarifying. Christmas happens as we welcome that Word, the Christ Child, the person and work of Jesus. He shows that resurrection happens again and again. My friends, Christmas is happening too. It is happening not for a day or a season, it is happening as we know and love God as a living presence in and among us. Christmas is not a tale or legend of long ago. It is an ongoing and continuing action. Love is a verb not a feeling. Today, as much as ever, we need our Savior. In Christ, we have a fighting chance to overcome the selfish urge to win at all cost, to serve beyond ourselves, and to scatter hope and peace generously and liberally. Christmas Day has happened, but Christmas must keep happening as the Word becomes flesh and dwells among us, full of grace and truth. Hang in there. Hope is alive, healing happens, and love always wins. Amen. Comments are closed.
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AuthorThe Rev. John Thomas is Rector of Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood Archives
October 2024
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