Luke 2:1-20
House of Bread
Christmas came early this year. A few weeks ago, in the middle of Advent a few of us gathered with English Language Ministry students for their Christmas program. We sang Christmas carols in Spanish and English, and heard students share their homeland traditions with their newly born English skills. One woman’s tradition caught the ear of a few of us. She said, “On Christmas Eve we clean the house, singing, praying and asking God for love.”
Singing, praying, and asking God for love. Isn’t that why we gather here in the darkest hours of this night in worship? You sense in your inmost being that you need to be here, don’t you?
Our journey to Bethlehem has been full. You have shared meals, broken bread, and prepared your homes. You have decorated, shopped, wrapped, cooked, and baked. You have caroled, visited the shut-ins, and hosted end of the year parties. Many of you have travelled by air or car to be in Dallas. Or, you are preparing to travel to your hometown or extended family. I’m guessing many of you have not experienced a quiet and peaceful Advent bringing us to this night.
But, then, neither did Mary and Joseph.
It was a long walk from Galilee to the little town of Bethlehem. I imagine Mary and Joseph chatted with other travelers, the road full. Perhaps they made family connections, swapping stories about family members. My guess is that a woman or two sidled up to Mary asking questions about her pregnancy, and offering baby advice. And then they arrived in Bethlehem.
Bethlehem. A small town whose name is translated: house of bread.
Imagine the scene in Bethlehem. Because of the Census, Bethlehem, a city of 100 has swelled as full as Mary’s belly. Generations are squeezed into one place. It was like DFW Airport on Christmas Eve: packed full of tired and harried masses of people, long security lines, and those in charge trying to prevent bedlam.
Now, what happens when you go back to your hometown? Do you stay at a hotel? No. If you have family in town, you most likely stay with them.
Mary and Joseph would have been expected to stay with family, because that’s what you do when you go home.
We often visualize a scene with Mary and Joseph knocking on a quaint cottage, or inn door filled with other strangers and being turned away by an inn keeper.
Luke 2:6-7 recounts, “While they were there the time came for her to deliver the child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.” The Greek word for “inn”, kataluma, used in the passage actually means guest room. The very same guest room you or I stay in when you we visit family.
Apparently even this guest room reserved for out of town family is full. So, Mary and Joseph are relegated to the only open space, the barn. The manger, a table that feeds animals, is the resting place for Jesus. The stable is not exactly homey or comfortable, but it is warm and dry. Mary, Joseph, and Jesus were welcomed, but yet displaced all at the same time.
Isn’t that how you and I approach Christmas? At home and yet displaced? Perhaps you have mixed emotions on this night. Perhaps you’re excited to be back home, or wondering where home is exactly. Maybe you have never set foot here before, or you feel like an outsider, on the fringe. Perhaps you are thrilled to have your family together again, or perhaps you ache seeing that empty space next to you in this pew. Maybe you’re home here but worried that Christmas won’t, can’t, live up to your expectations. So you’ve created distance from those feelings, those memories. Maybe you have never set foot here before, or you feel like an outsider, on the fringe. Home and yet displaced…
Mary and Joseph are not turned out into the cold, they are not rejected, for they are among family, they are home. Yet, they are displaced from their normal guest room to the stable. Mary delivered Jesus in that lowly, simple space, with Joseph, the animals and shepherds?
The shepherds run to the scene. Now, if you were about to welcome your first child, would you welcome anyone but family into your birthing room? No. In fact, when babies are born, who greets them? The medical staff and family are present. In fact, only family is allowed into the delivery room. You certainly don’t want strangers there—dirty strangers to boot. Young guys who live around animals and pick up all their bugs and dirt. Shepherds.
But, the shepherds come just as they are, displaced from their night shift of tending sheep and welcomed as if they are family. Shepherds were considered the lowest of the low, and they find a home in the stable. The displaced in society, the excluded are included. I’ll say it again, the excluded are included just as they are. The excluded in society are welcome witnesses to God made flesh.
Like those shepherds traveling to Bethlehem on that night, you come as you are. And, God comes where God will…squeezing in where there is no room, on the fringe, on the edge, in the hidden spots, gathering those who are excluded to the center of God’s love and peace…
Remember that word for “inn” or guest room? Well, the writer of Luke uses this word again for the upper room in Luke 22. In that story, Jesus gathers with his disciples in the upper room, takes bread, and breaks it . Jesus’ birth and death are linked. The At the end of his story we see that a room is finally ready, and Jesus has collected a few more people beyond the shepherds to follow him. Some of them maybe were there when on a hillside far away he gathered the little bread that was at hand and broke it and fed thousands of people he did not know. Maybe two people in that upper room will be those disciples, driven off by fear after his death, who will suddenly recognize him again in the breaking of the bread.
This Breaking bread for the estranged will prove to be a theme, right up until Jesus’ death. The unimportant are welcomed to houses, to tables, to community and treated like family. With Jesus, bread is multiplied and shared with all who will come.
The same principal applies to us on this night as we sing, pray, and prepare to see God’s love. Some of you have not been for a while. You Some may not feel worthy. You Some do not feel full of Christmas cheer, but empty. Some are so glad to be here in this fitting place. Regardless of your place, your status, your emptiness or fullness, you have come, and you are welcome here.
Born in Bethlehem, the house of bread, Jesus is broken, the bread of life for all.
Tonight you and I gather around a manger, and around a table, where the Word made flesh, Jesus Christ is host. We are gathered in from the fringes or from the center. You and I are all given the bread of life, and the cup of salvation. We gather for this moment singing, praying, tasting, and touching the mystery of God’s love.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen.
References: The textual point about kataluma is lifted up by Marina and Raurhbaugh in their Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels, page 231 as well as by Swanson Provoking the Gospel of Luke: A Storyteller’s Commentary pages 74-80.
Image from washingtonmo.com
0 comments:
Post a Comment