Friends - here's my draft for the midnight service. Critique and suggestions
welcomed.
Marnie Barrell <marnie@AK.PLANET.GEN.NZ

Sermon: Family Stories

Christmas day is special to all of us for all sorts of reasons - memories of
past Christmases with the people we love, and looking forward to the
festivities to come - the food, the presents, the time with friends and
families, the sense of joy and fulfilment after weeks of preparation through
Advent.

This Christmas is special to me for another reason: it's 10 years ago today
that John and I brought home our newborn baby Genevieve. We have photos of
her on that day, lying in her brand-new crib looking rather puzzled as we
fussed around her anxiously. I well remember gazing at her as all new
mothers do, looking for likenesses to various relatives, trying to imagine
her in 10 or 20 years' time. Of course, looking ahead I couldn't begin to
picture how she'd look. But now, with hindsight, when I look at that photo
it's easy to see the distinctive features she has now, all right there from
the beginning of her life. I guess we've all experienced that delighted
laugh of recognition when we see an early photo of someone we 've known only
as an adult, seeing the signs of the mature person in the baby face.

Perhaps this has something to do with the Gospel stories of Jesus' birth.
These beloved stories of Mary and Joseph, the baby in a manger, the
shepherds and wise men and angels, were gathered up by the group of people
who'd known Jesus first as a man, then as the Risen Lord, mysteriously alive
with them forever. Naturally this early Christian community would have been
fascinated to know all about where this amazing person had come from. In
Luke's Gospel we may have some of his own family's recollections, treasured
like our baby photos, told over and over again like our own family stories.

Have you ever noticed how it is with family stories -- the way we tell them
to bring out people's personalities and quirks? "And wasn't that just typical
of Granddad, he always had to have the last word", or "When you were a baby
you used to love the water, that's why you're such a good swimmer now" and so
on. The family stories we keep alive are the ones that tie in with what we
know about a beloved person, and reveal what they're really like. Family
stories also help us to understand our own place in the family, what
qualities we admire and try to live up to.

So I'm thinking that these precious family stories of the early Christian
community have more to them than just bare facts. They're stories told to
show who Jesus really was. They're told with hindsight by people who
already knew how his life turned out. They're told so that we can all
appreciate how the features of Jesus the adult were already present in Jesus
the baby. It's like the baby-photos and the family stories - we want to
trace those similarities and connections all the way back through the beloved
person's life. We want to know how God worked in his life so we can see how
God might work in our lives, because we're part of the new family of God
centred on Jesus.

You know how it is when you read a mystery novel for the second time - all
the clues in the early chapters leap out at you once you know the ending, but
you didn't see them the first time round. The Christmas stories are rather
like that, I think. The details mean much more when you see the whole
picture. We know now that Jesus was special, chosen by God, knew God as a
child knows a parent - so it makes good sense that there was something
mysterious about Mary's pregnancy. We know Jesus was a man of the people,
and the poor and outcast were dear to his heart - how fitting, how like him,
to be born in a shed, and to be first recognised by some rough shepherds. We
remember how he was a problem to the established authorities, and his life
was always on the line - no wonder the evil King Herod was out to get him
from the beginning. Again, we've seen that Jesus is good news for every
nation, not just his own people- how significant that foreigners came from
afar to bring him gifts. And we experience for ourselves that Jesus connects
us to God, brings Heaven right here among us - no surprise, then, that angels
appear with messages of hope, joy, peace and love. Everything we've come to
believe about Jesus has its beginnings in these images of the baby in
Bethlehem.

But that's not all. Our joy at Christmas isn't just about remembering a long-
ago birth. The stories still matter to us because Jesus still matters to
us. During Advent, the Church talks about the coming of Jesus in three ways:
in the past at Bethlehem, in the present in our own day-to-day experience,
and in the future fulfilment of God's purposes for the world. Do we have an
expectation now, in our own lives, of knowing God through Jesus? If the baby
of Bethlehem moves us, warms our hearts and stirs us with longing and hope
(and that's presumably why we're here tonight), then that shows something.
It shows we recognise Jesus as somehow a part of our lives, still present and
important, still revealing God's love and God's ways to us, still leading us
into the future God prepares for us.

How can the Christmas story help us to recognise his coming to us now? Those
same clues and themes are what we look for whenever Jesus comes, in the past,
present or future:

- when Jesus comes, it's hidden, surprising, unpredictable. Mary's baby was
nothing like the accepted image of God's Chosen who would save the nation.
In Bethlehem most people snored through the great, long-awaited moment. But
for people who are tuned into God's ways, who hope and expect signs of God's
presence, any ordinary thing could be a glimpse of God among us - a new baby,
an offer of shelter to some tired travellers, a starry sky, a moment of
simple kindness, the pleasure of giving pleasure to someone else. Look for
Jesus among us wherever there is hope, contentment, gratitude, generosity,
wherever people are caring for one another, living peacefully, quietly doing
good.

- when Jesus comes, there's likely to be conflict and danger. The scandal of
Mary's pregnancy, Joseph's anger and confusion, Herod's attempt to destroy
him - that's just the beginning of it. Welcoming Jesus may not be all
sweetness and light. It can be a costly commitment. The way of Jesus is
demanding and difficult, just as it was for Jesus himself. Look for Jesus
wherever people suffer for their beliefs, wherever there is tension and
sorrow, wherever people are wrestling with their doubts and fears.

- when Jesus comes, it's to comfort the afflicted and afflict the
comfortable. The people who eagerly welcomed Jesus were those with little to
lose: the poor, the people on the edge, like the shepherds, like Mary and
Joseph themselves. The way of Jesus is a threat to the people like Herod who
do very nicely out of an unjust system. Look for Jesus wherever people stand
up for what's right, challenge evil, speak on behalf of the oppressed, refuse
to be part of the problem.

-when Jesus comes, it's like a breath of fresh air from Heaven. Because of
Jesus we've come to know God as loving, compassionate, deeply involved with
us and totally on our side. The angels may have said it first, but countless
millions have discovered it for themselves - look for Jesus wherever people
come to believe that they are truly accepted and loved, when they are set
free to be themselves and to care for others.

On this Christmas Day, may Jesus meet you everywhere you turn - in the
hospitality and gifts you offer and receive, in the pleasure of being with
those you love, in remembering the beloved dead and absent friends, in the
praise and thanksgiving of the Church as we delight in the wonderful story of
Jesus born of Mary, Emmanuel, God-with-us.