4th Sunday in Advent, Dec. 20th, Sermon by The Reverend Loree Reed

Luke 2: 1–20
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

This year, as we read the familiar old story once again, I’m surprised to realize I have new questions arising around it . . . and maybe some new thoughts too.   For I can’t help wondering what Mary and Joseph were thinking — making that long hundred–mile journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem — when, clearly, Mary’s baby was due any day.  Weren’t they worried, weren’t they concerned, that Mary’s baby might arrive en route?   Weren’t they concerned for both mother and baby?
You and I might have risked such a trip, but then, we’d be counting on driving that distance — driving on smooth roads in just a few hours.  But Joseph was walking, leading a donkey with Mary on its back.  And Google Maps estimates that journey would take 34 hours — not counting frequent stops to rest, to navigate deep wadis bisecting the path or to search out inns where they might stay for a night.  But they did it anyhow, and I can’t help wondering why.
Maybe they made that trip because they had no choice.  Luke opens his story by telling us that Augustus Caesar, the emperor of the known universe, had decreed that an empire–wide census be taken, so everyone might be taxed and fill his dwindling coffers.  Then he tells us that Quirinius, a local governor, was going to be enforcing the emperor’s edict.  These were the movers and shakers of the day, people everybody feared and obeyed.  Each and every citizen was to return to his ancestral home to be counted, to fill out some government form and find out just how much money he owed.   Mary and Joseph lived in Nazareth now, but Joseph, as the King James Version puts it, was of the House and lineage of David.  And David’s town was Bethlehem.  So to Bethlehem they went.
By the time they arrived, Mary was in labor.  The birth was imminent . . . and they really did need a place to stay, a warm and quiet place.  And at this point in the story, Luke seems to switch his focus — from the powers–that–be he started with — to smaller, less significant figures.
So of course at this point we expect to hear something about the innkeeper, the figure who will announce to the young couple that his inn is completely full — and he can’t accommodate another soul.  But truth to tell, there actually is no innkeeper figure in Luke’s story.  We’ve just inferred there must be after watching countless Christmas pageants, with either an adamant innkeeper, refusing them room, or a kinder one, suddenly remembering the stable out back where he tells them they are welcome to stay.
All we really know from Luke’s story is that somehow, the young couple found their way to that stable, and there Mary gave birth to the infant Jesus, swaddling him in linen cloths and laying him in a manger, filled with hay.  And often enough, that’s where we end our story.  The baby Jesus has been born on a starlit night in Bethlehem.  God has given us the unfathomable gift of his own Son, the Savior of the world.  And maybe that’s enough miracle, enough wonder and mystery for today.
But this year, I found myself thinking more about the next part of the story, the story of the shepherds out at night on the hillside outside Bethlehem, tending their sheep, when the angel surprises them with his announcement of the birth.  And the thing that caught my attention was what the angel says to these astonished shepherds when he first appears to them.  “Fear not,” he says, “for, Behold – I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people!”  And then he tells them to go check his message out by going to Bethlehem to seek the sign he has just announced to them.
Hmmn, I wondered.  Isn’t that pretty close to what the angel Gabriel said to Mary when he first appeared to her, announcing she would bear the Son of God? — “Fear not, Mary, I have good news for you; you have found favor with God.”  And then tells her about the parallel mystery of her kinswoman Elizabeth – a woman who was supposed to be beyond her childbearing years – but was now in her sixth month.
And that message, in turn, is close to what an angel said to Joseph in a dream when Joseph had decided to put Mary away privately, after learning she was with child. “Fear not, Joseph, to take Mary as your wife; for the baby conceived in her is of the Holy Ghost.”  And with that, Joseph did as the angel advised him to.
Could it be, I wondered, that with that admonition to “Fear not,” somehow the shepherds really did lose their fear – no longer worrying about their sheep as they raced off to Bethlehem to see for themselves the sign the shepherds had announced to them – a baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger   Could that be why they were willing to leave their sheep that night, trusting somehow, that this good news of great joy was even more important?
Could it be, I wondered that the “Fear not!” message Mary had received from the angel Gabriel was what empowered her, soon afterward, to seek out her kinswoman Elizabeth and then — unafraid — sing Magnificat?  Announcing support and strength to those who believe the angelic message — and the downfall of all who think they’re above such childish belief.
And finally, last of all, could that be why Mary and Joseph dared to take the long, rough journey to Bethlehem, even when she was great with child?   Was it simply that their newfound trust in God now finally surpassed their fear?
Could it be, could it be that all these ‘fear nots’ have begun to usher in the Kingdom of God?
 
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