Reading: John 1:1-5, 10-14, 16-18
The Gospel of John is the most "theological" or "philosophical" of the four Gospels. It offers deep reflection on the meaning of Jesus, and begins in chapter 1 by calling Jesus the Logos of God, and the Logos of all the world.
"Logos" is a Greek word that means "word," and on the simplest level refers to a single, ordinary word. "Logos" also has a bigger meaning, and can refer to a kind of universal truth or overall picture or structure of things -- like a system of belief, or a body of teaching. It can also refer to the one single truth that stands at the beginning of, or behind all things, and that is expressed in and through all things -- like an original Model or intended Blueprint for everything else after it.
All these layers of meaning seem to be in play, in the first verses of The Gospel of John where the early church offers its reflection on the meaning of Jesus as they have come to know him.
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God,and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made.In him was life, and that life was the light of all humankind.
The light shines in the darkness,and the darkness does not understand it, nor does it overcome it. The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him.He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him.
Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name,he gave the right to become children of God—children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or willpower, but born of God.
The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth. And out of his fullness we have all received grace in place of grace already given.
For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God, but the one and only Son, who is himself God and is in closest relationship with the Father, has made him known.
Meditation
The Word became flesh, and dwelt among us. What can this mean – that the eternal Word of love and of life takes on fleshly life in all its frailty and fragility and finds a home among us?
2021 was a hard year, even harder than we expected after 2020. It was a hard year for the world – in ways I don’t even need to name or try to list. It was a hard year for many people in their own personal lives – for many of you. It was a hard year for me.
One day early on in the year – while Japhia was still with me and was so terribly, terribly sick all the time, I allowed myself -- maybe for the first time in my life, to be mad at God. Really mad. And really at God.
Instead of deflecting my anger and my sense of powerlessness in some other direction, I let myself aim it right at God, and I poured out my questions of why, and my accusations of it not being fair for Japhia to be suffering as she was. I ranted. I let it all out. And then at the end of it was silent.
The silence lasted a while. And then out of the silence I heard – almost with my ears, an answer saying, “You’re right. It hurts me, too. Please be there with her, for me.”
Is it thus, that the Word becomes flesh, and saves us?
Months later, when Japhia passed away, I was bereft, at a loss as to what to do, suddenly without any meaning and purpose that made sense. I felt terribly alone.
And what made a difference – a big difference, were the cards, the emails, the phone calls that I received from you and from others – of shared sorrow and support, of personal care and prayer. And my first Sunday back in this sanctuary some weeks later – not to preach and to lead, but just to be in the pews with some of you, was one of the best and most healing gifts ever. The kind words muttered through masks, the gentle looks of caring eyes, the simple touches of a hand on my shoulder let me know that I was not alone, and that I was held not only in your hearts but in the heart and hand of God.
Is it thus, that the Word becomes flesh, and saves us?
We all need this – all the ways in which and by which God’s love becomes flesh, and touches the frailties and fragilities of our flesh, of our life on earth.
And we all can do this – can offer this gift to others, because we are flesh and can embody, can live out, and can share a touch, a word, a gesture, a kindness that somehow has God and God’s love within it.
We live in a world and we are a people that looks for answers and solutions. That tries to, and really wants to fix things – from cars to COVID, from the economy to the ecology, from disaster to disease. And it’s good, and right and true that we commit to doing these things, finding answers that we can to the world’s problems, and fixing what can be fixed. It’s part of what it means to be human, and to live in, and live up to the image of God.
And it’s good that there are people who can lead the way in stuff like that. As long as the rest of us listen to them, learn, and follow.
But there is something else as well – something absolutely fundamental without which all else might fail, or become misguided or twisted. And something we are all equally equipped to do and be part of.
It’s the human touch. It’s the sacrament of the in-the-flesh encounter. It’s the holiness of incarnated, acted-out love that all of us are in need of, and all of us are capable of.
Part of the mystery of Christmas and of Jesus is that it all happened and came to be true in such a poor, little place and among such poor, little people. Over the years Joseph and Mary and the manger in Bethlehem have come to possess a kind of celebrity status. But in the beginning, they were just two very ordinary people not at all in control of their lives, used by God to bring something extraordinary to light.
And is it always thus that the Word becomes flesh and saves us? Is it always in the little places, in little ways that the Word of God is lived out among us, and brought to life over and over and over again in the life of the world?
I’m glad you’re here this morning, in spitre of all the reasons you might not be. It means a lot to be together in the flesh, face to face – or, with our masks on, eye to eye and person to person.
I hope that you are sharing in this worship online, know you are not alone, but part of a community of love, of faith, and of hope. I pray that there are people important to you in your life, who somehow live out God’s word of love to you. I pray that you know you are also important to others in the same way – in more ways probably than you can know.
No one of us is Jesus or God. But as we share the frailties and fragilities of life together, helping one another through them, Jesus and God are there. Thanks be to God.
And may it always be so. As it was in the beginning, may it be to the end. As it was last year, may it also be this year. World without end. Amen.
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