2nd Sunday after Christmas, Sermon by The Reverend Loree Reed

Ephesians 1: 3–6   15–19
Luke 2: 41–52
Lord, may we hear your voice in the words spoken in your Name. Amen.

If I was looking for a sense of the holy last week in the culture around me, I must have been looking in all the wrong places.  For everyone’s attention had already passed on – way beyond Christmas – as if the coming of the Light of the World wasn’t worth dwelling on.  And I was troubled by that cultural amnesia, that cultural incomprehension.  For I knew it hadn’t always been that way.
Not so many years ago, the Christmas season, the Church’s celebration of Jesus’ birth on this earth, was something everyone understood and celebrated.  It meant Emmanuel, God with us.  It meant the possibility of new life in Jesus Christ, a hopeful way of life.  For everyone understood if the Son of God had been born in our midst, then he was accessible to us, and might be walking with us through anything life might throw at us.  And that was cause for celebration.  So, beginning on Christmas day everybody partied.  Everybody celebrated for a full twelve days — with feasting, games, music, dancing.  During that time no one worked.  Everybody played and rejoiced.  And the whole community joined together in wonder – the joyful wonder that God had come to them in the flesh – and had never left.
In our day of course, as you and I approach Christmas, we do have a sense of wonder.  For we understand something of our faith.  We understand what Emmanuel, God with us means, day by day.  Maybe that’s why, at the close of every service in this church we sing, God be with you ’till we meet again.  It is simply one of the more profound blessings we can wish for one another.
But in the wider culture around us, fewer and fewer people seem to share our sense of wonder.  They do understand that Christmas has something to do with the gift of that baby, born to Mary in a stable . . . but they’re not quite sure what that gift has to do with their own day–to–day lives.  And advertisers, of course, have exploited their confusion by suggesting that Christmas is all about the buying of gifts — man–made gifts, neatly packaged and tied with a bow.  They have made Christmas something of a retail experience.  And once those purchased gifts have been given, once the actual day of Christmas is over, many people imagine that the holiday is over.  All that remains is to return the gifts that weren’t quite right to the store, take the wreaths off the windows, and haul the tree out to the curb.
So I thought it might be helpful this morning to look at our scriptures for today and see them in the light of Incarnation – which is the Church’s $20 word for the gift of God with us in the flesh.  That’s what this holy season of Christmastide is all about.  And, of course, as the Church sees things, this season of Incarnation, this period of Christmastide only marks the beginning of the gift that is now ours.
In the Old Testament reading from the prophet Jeremiah this morning, we understand that God’s promise to be with his people, to gather them back to himself — was something those people longed for.  It was something they thought was worth waiting for.  But this is something, in our own day, that we have lost.  In fact, in our instant culture of faster and faster internet speeds, Instagram and quick, effortless microwave meals, people have trouble believing that anything is worth waiting for.  So on that day when the gift is finally given, we are less inclined to sing and dance, less inclined to celebrate our wholeness.  In fact many people these days haven’t even noticed that sense of wholeness missing.
But our psalmist, this morning, isn’t nearly so cynical.  He presents reunion with God as the greatest possible gift anyone could want and directs our attention to the Temple as the place where heaven and earth, God and humankind, can join together as one.  In a beautiful image, the psalmist likens the one who seeks God out to the swallow who chooses to build her nest right beside the Lord’s high holy altar in the Temple.  But he also hints that this happy reunion won’t come about easily.  Just as the swallow must first migrate long distances to get back home, God’s people will travel some distance — along a difficult route – before arriving, finally, at home with the Lord.
When we come to the New Testament reading for this morning, to Paul’s Letter to the Ephesians, the message is finally explicit.  God isn’t just close, Paul says; He has chosen us, destined us for adoption into his family.  And this not as some careless afterthought, but intentionally, from before the foundations of the world.  So this longing for God the Father is written into our DNA.  “It’s your faith in Him,” Paul says, “and your love for each other that proves it, that causes me to give thanks to the Father and pray for you every day.” In other words, this gift of adoption is not to be taken for granted.  It must be cultivated by staying in faith — close together with God and with one another.
And, finally this morning we have Luke’s story of a young Jesus, lingering in the Temple to talk with the scholars there – to the consternation of his parents, who thought he must be somewhere in their large entourage as they left Jerusalem and returned to Nazareth.  But the boy wasn’t en route back to Nazareth at all.  He had stayed behind in his Father’s house to ask probing questions of the rabbis.  Luke has already told us that from his birth onward, the boy had grown in wisdom and stature with God and man.  But now the boy understands he has more growing, more learning to do.  Though he is the very Son of God, he must now grow into the fulness of that promise.  And he needed to take some steps – to get there.
This, I think, is the lesson for us in this season of Christmastide, this season of Incarnation.  The baby Jesus has been born into our world.  Glory to God in the highest and peace to his people on earth!!  No longer do we need to climb up to God; God has come down to us . . . and has made Himself available to each and every one of us.  But we have to open that gift and cultivate it, understand it, begin to abide in its promise.  And as we grow into Him, as we grow into a full understanding of Him, He will begin to work in us – transforming us into what He always hoped we would become.  In that process the word abide is crucial.  It tells us that this gift will take some time to develop.
The best illustration I could come up with this morning were these key limes.  I didn’t buy this fruit in the grocery store.  I picked it this morning off a key lime tree that Cindy Womack gave me years ago.  She and Larry had bought the plant in Florida and she had kept it on her sun porch.  But the plant wasn’t doing well there.  It had some fungus growing on it – and she was about to throw the whole thing out.  So I offered to take it – and began to care for it – applying fungicide and fertilizer, giving it lots of water and keeping it in the sun.  Finally the plant began to grow and flourish.  And — lo and behold, this year – after four years — it began to produce fruit.
Maybe this is the point of Emmanuel, God with us, that the world has somehow missed.  Though He has come to us, we also have to come to Him.  And then abide in Him . . .  because our growth in Him is not automatic. Nor is it quick . . . instantaneous . . .  happening overnight.  The presence of Christ in our lives is simply not a gift we can buy for ourselves in a store – and then open up on Christmas morning.  But He is a gift worth waiting for.
And He believes that we are worth waiting for too.
Amen.
 
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