Disciple: Living into Christmas

[Image: The dwelling of the Word among us is a much more compelling and challenging aspect of Christmas to celebrate than the birth of a child—and not something one can express through decorations.]

Most of my neighbors love to decorate for the seasons. Beginning as early as Labor Day, inflatable pumpkins and orange lights appear. On November 1, the black and orange of Halloween is replaced by seasonal bales of hay and six-foot tall turkeys in pilgrim hats, and, while most of America is shopping on Black Friday, my community is hard at work putting up Christmas lights. All of this means that, on December 26, at least a few of my neighbors begin the work of making Christmas go away.

I sympathize with my eager neighbors. I understand the 12 days of Christmas and the importance of focusing on what we’ve been waiting for through the four weeks of Advent, but, by the third or fourth day of Christmas, I’m already a bit tired of the stuff and the clutter, the tree looks empty without the packages underneath it, and I have to confess I start to sneak bits of Christmas paraphernalia back into the boxes where they live for most of the year. The story we’ve been anticipating and planning for and preparing to celebrate, our annual remembrance of the holy birth, can seem a little different in the days immediately following the blessed event.

For Christmas Eve, our worship focuses on the story of the birth of Jesus. We hear the gospel accounts from Matthew and Luke, the only two authors to describe the birth of Jesus. There, shepherds, angels and a manger take center stage. Our services ring with joyful carols, and children bounce with excitement and hopeful anticipation. And by Christmas morning, the mood changes. There is peace, time for reflection and, if we are fortunate, the opportunity to connect with family and loved ones. In many churches, the Christmas Day gospel is not Matthew or Luke, but John. In John’s version of the Christmas story, there is no baby, there are no shepherds, not even a wise man or an angel. There is only the Word. And the Word is with God and the Word is God (John 1:1-14). It is peaceful, poetic and hopeful.

John begins his gospel with beautiful words that echo the creation story from the book of Genesis, with a deeply theological interpretation of Jesus as the Word—the voice and actions of God—at work in our world, “in the beginning...” and throughout all ages. Instead of a young mother and a manger, John says only that “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” (John 1:14, NKJV) John writes in Greek and uses the word “logos,” which our Bibles translates as “Word.” But logos was more than a mere part of speech. The logos in ancient Greek philosophy was active; it was reason, an organizing principle. In ancient Hebrew, the concept was expressed by the word “dabar,” which means both “word” and “deed.” And I had a seminary classmate some 25 years ago who learned English as an adult. For him, John began with “the verb of God.” This word-verb is active and engaged in our world, a word that speaks and creates, that changes and challenges. It is a word that makes a difference once and for all. It is Jesus Christ.

Christmas—all 12 days of it—is the moment when we celebrate not only the gift of the baby who is Emmanuel, God-with-us, but also the gift of God’s love active throughout creation, in the beginning and ever since. Out of love for God’s human family, the Word who was with God came to dwell with us, to renew and transform human lives. It’s a lot more compelling and a lot more challenging that a simple celebration of a holy birth because that love, that divine Word, has changed our world. And it has changed us. Because we’re in this story, too, as witnesses to the divine Word that has come to dwell among us. Like the angels and shepherds and John the Baptist, and even those kings whose visit coincides with the end of the 12 days, we are asked to share the story, to show God’s love to others, to truly live into the promise of the Christmas birth.

I think I know why the days of Christmas that follow December 25 are so very ambiguous for so many of us. If you’ve ever brought home a child that is yours to parent and to love, then you’ve probably experienced this, too, but I remember that feeling, a mix of fear, excitement and dread as my son and I were discharged from the hospital just after he was born. We got him home and put the brand-new car seat containing a brand-new child on the coffee table. And then we just looked at him. My husband turned to me and said “I can’t believe they just let us leave with him. What do we do now?” Well, we figured it out; everyone does. But living into the miracle of Christmas takes some working out.

Christmas is the beginning, a new opportunity each year, to nurture and sustain the life of God in each of us. It is a time when the holy word can take root, when the challenges and joys of new opportunities can grow and transform us. It is a celebration of God’s great gift, but it is also a challenging time. There’s a poem called “The Work of Christmas” by theologian and civil rights leader Howard Thurman that I want to share a part of with you. He wrote it for just this time of year, and it calls us to live into the hope and promise of Christmas:

To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among people,
To make music in the heart.

That, my friends, is the call and challenge of this holy season. To roll up our sleeves and get to work with the tasks that have been set before us, to seek justice and show mercy, to care for others and to carry out God’s work in our world. May you find joy in the work of this holy season. May your work, your actions and your life show Christ to others, and may the holy child whose birth we continue to celebrate be present in you and through you.

The Rev. Canon Dr. Sally French is the canon for east regional ministry and collaborative innovation.