Sermon from Sunday, Dec 4, 2016

Reading:  Isaiah 11:1-10
(The people are at risk, scattered in exile in foreign countries, subject to -- and being victimized by, alien laws and powers.  Through the prophet, God promises a new leader who will be rooted in the ancient wisdom, and will embody the best essence of their history and tradition, who will gather them again in a kingdom that is safe for all -- safe for all life together -- for the poor, the meek, children, babies, bears, wolves, lions, lambs, asps and adders all dwelling together in peace.)


Recently, at a meeting in the Board Room at Delta United Church, I noticed a wonderful old nativity set sitting atop a cabinet in a corner of the room.  From where I was sitting and looking up at it, I could see a moss-covered stable made of thick bark and the top halves of a variety of hand-painted figures arranged inside it – shepherds, magi, animals and holy family, I imagined.  And I noticed something else a little odd, positioned at a strange angle at the very front of the set, something that didn’t seem to belong there, and kind of tipped in towards where I imagined the manger with the baby must have been placed.

Once the meeting was over I went to the cabinet, stood on a chair to be able to see the whole of the creche, and sure enough ... I was right, it was a lion with its mouth wide open – teeth bared, standing just inches from the manger and its precious baby.

I was tickled by the sense of humour someone had to add a lion to the traditional nativity set.  I wondered if it was an import from a Lion King set. 

It reminded me of a Mr. Bean Christmas episode where he starts adding a few creative touches to a nativity scene he comes across in a toy store – bringing through a Buckingham Palace Guard band to welcome the newborn king; dropping a bunch of extra sheep all over the stable followed by a border collie, and a stock truck that backs up into the scene to load the sheep into, and take them away; then Bambi and a weaponized robot of some kind wander by, before an oversized tyrannosaurus rex comes in from the wings, threatening to eat everyone there; prompting a tank to roll in to attack the dinosaur while a helicopter brings in and lowers an angel to pick up the baby and airlift the precious child away from the stable to the safety of a bedroom of a nearby Barbie dream house, where Mary and Joseph eventually find their way to continue their vigil at his bedside.

Or there’s the nativity play in the movie “Love Actually” in which the daughter of the character played by Emma Thompson is thrilled to have the role of first lobster, because of course there was more than one lobster at the nativity and being first lobster is an honour.    Or there are the long-gone senior Sunday school nativity pageants that Bob Pearl’s classes wrote themselves, that included all kinds of other wild and wonderful creatures, including astronauts, all gathered at their version of the manger.

And why not?  Didn’t the angels tell the shepherds that the birth of a Saviour in the town nearby was good news of great joy for all people?  Don’t the legends tell us that the night Jesus was born, peace came to animals all around the world and for one night they were able to speak and be heard?  Doesn’t our theology today tell us that Christ is not only Lord of all history and all humanity, but the primal, holy, healing Word of all creation, all Earth, all the cosmos?

The peace and well-being of all God has made are brought to focus in that one little manger.

But a lion?  With its mouth that wide open?

What parent would allow such a thing?  What is Delta United saying about their duty of care to little children in their church?   And the dear little Jesus – what kind of therapy will he need later in life to deal with the trauma of this lion’s invasion of his birth-night?

Except … the lion really does seem to fit in.  The scale of the lion is perfectly matched to that of the other characters.  It’s as though no matter where he started out, or came from, that lion was always meant to be just there, gathered in with other creatures to celebrate the appearing of God’s eternal Word of peace for all that is.

Isaiah says that in the kingdom of the One who truly embraces and embodies God's righteousness and justice, the lion and lamb will lie down together, and not even the poorest, most at-risk and vulnerable child will suffer hurt.

And isn’t that good news for us all?  Especially at those time when maybe we feel like we are the lion, or the lobster or dinosaur or spaceman who just doesn’t seem to fit in – doesn’t seem to belong, must belong to some other set, maybe even seems too dangerous, too hurtful, too risky, too other to have a place in this one.

You know, it’s easy and nice, to think of times and ways when we are the ones already in the scene – good shepherds, wise magi, quiet sheep all settled in and belonging, and we’re called by the good will of God in the goodness of our hearts to be open and welcoming to others – even others who seem so unlikely.

But aren’t there also times and ways when we are the other, the odd one out, the one who doesn’t belong, even the one who is dangerous and risky or burdensome to the well-being of the rest?  Haven’t we all felt that at times?  Haven’t we all been told that at times?  Haven’t we all believed that at times about ourselves?

And yet, there it is – the nativity set maybe forgotten and unnoticed by most on top of a cupboard in a corner of a Board Room, the one we need to be reminded of, in order to know that we, too, really are invited and welcomed in.  When it’s the new-born, lived-out Word of God that we gather around, there really is a place for all.

There’s a poem by Maya Angelou that’s going to be part of our 10 o’clock Christmas Eve service, called “Amazing Peace.”  In part of it, she says:

We question ourselves.
…

We worry God.
Are you there? Are you there really?
Does the covenant you made with us still hold?

Into this climate of fear and apprehension, Christmas enters,
Streaming lights of joy, ringing bells of hope
And singing carols of forgiveness high up in the bright air.
…
In our joy, we think we hear a whisper.
At first it is too soft. Then only half heard.
We listen carefully as it gathers strength.
We hear a sweetness.
The word is Peace.
…
We tremble at the sound. We are thrilled by its presence.
It is what we have hungered for.
…

Peace.
…

At this Holy Instant, we celebrate the Birth of Jesus Christ
Into the great religions of the world.
…

We, Angels and Mortals, Believers and Non-Believers,
Look heavenward and speak the word aloud.
Peace. We look at our world and speak the word aloud.
Peace. We look at each other, then into ourselves
And we say without shyness or apology or hesitation.

Peace, My Brother.
Peace, My Sister.
Peace, My Soul.

And why not?  Isn’t this what we all need to hear for ourselves, and sing to one another?

At the times when we are the traditional figures in the scene, comfortably settled into our places, belonging – and we are called to be opened, inviting and welcoming to the other.

And at the times when it’s we who do not belong, who feel there’s no place for us, that we are too other or dangerous or risky or burdensome to be included – and we are called to come and take a place, a place made just for us, along with the rest.

The trickster god, like the trickster at Delta, says all have a place around the lived-out Word of God.  Around the incarnation of God in our time, all are welcome and God has a place for all – for each and every one.

                

Peace.