I'd love for you to keep that open before you (Luke
2:1-7) because we're going to make some observations about this
very familiar passage.
In the late 1970's, up until 1984, AT&T's ad campaign included
the slogan written by Marshall McCluan, "Reach out and touch
someone." Do you remember that? In fact, if you look on the Web
these days, and type in that phrase in the search engine, you will
get tens of thousands of sites named "Reach Out and Touch Someone."
This phrase has become a part of our language, whether or not we
remember that it touted the global, unifying effects of the telephone.
Since then, we have seen other expressions of solidarity and unity in
the technological world. ABC recently wrote an article
defending the value of television, and though much of it was quite
amusing to me as a Christian, they claimed that television has the
power to bring people together. And I suppose after a very
funny Carol Burnett reunion last Monday night, one might see that as possible.
In the mid-1990's to the present time, what is the latest
technological advance to come with the great promise of drawing
people together? The Internet, right? The Web.
But people today are still alone. People today are still
geographically separated from their families, more so then ever.
Folks are out of touch with the people they live closest to. I
find it tremendously ironic. We have the ability to E-mail to a
half a billion people around the world, but we get tongue-tied and
embarrassed to knock on our neighbor's door. I find that scary.
We live in an era where it is very tempting to hide behind anonymity.
If you go through the phone book, look how many people do not print
their full names or addresses. But today, and through the next
three weeks approaching Christmas, I believe the Lord is going to
call us to a different way.
Our theme this month is God's Touch: The Touch of Christmas. So
I'd like you to look with me at this brief passage of Scripture, Luke
2: 1-7, to catch the context of what we think is a familiar story. "In
those days, Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken."
Scholars are still scrambling to find evidence of that decree.
Quirinius, governor of Syria, offers a known time-frame, but there is
no archeological evidence of an actual census at that time.
There is for one in 7 AD, but because Caesar Augustus died in 4 BC,
we would be looking for evidence prior to that point, and we don't
have it.
Some scholars think this Luke census was the result of some sort of a
warm-up to the big world-wide census that must have been taken place later.
And Herod, being a crafty fellow, knew that the Jewish people would
respond to the idea of going to their tribal homelands.
Remember from the Old Testament the twelve tribes of Israel?
They each had a parcel of land they called "home" in what
we call the Holy Land today.
So Joseph and Mary, being people in the lineage of David, were going
back down to Bethlehem, which was at the center of the area of Judah.
This was a journey of about 60 or 65 miles south from Nazareth or the
Galileean area, southward towards Jerusalem and then five miles south
of that is where Bethlehem is.
Many people have come from all over the country in order to be
registered in that little town, their tribal homeland. And so
on these few days, there are lots of non-residents in a village, and
all the accommodations were apparently full. There was not a
tremendous sense of community. Strangers were in very close
proximity to one another. They were neighbors by force, if you
will, trying to make the best of a situation that was uncomfortable
for most, which isn't unlike our setting today, where we work, where
we travel, the traffic. You know, we are in close proximity
with a lot of people who don't know each other.
But what I found interesting about this story is what it doesn't say.
Look in the last couple of verses. "While they were
there, the time had come for the baby to be born." So
Mary has traveled down this 65-mile road by donkey, nine months pregnant.
I just break into hives thinking about that. The time had come.
Joseph was the only one obligated to go for the census, but he was a
smart man, and he did not leave his betrothed up in Nazareth to give
birth alone. She came with him, and something happened.
What's fascinating is just how brief and unadorned this text is. "The
time came for the baby to be born. She gave birth to her
firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a
manger because there was no room for them in the inn."
Where's the innkeeper? There is no mention of an innkeeper.
There is no mention of any person, any personal touch, any kind of
personality involved here. This is the only passage in the Scripture
that mentions the manger or the fact that there was no room in the inn.
What you have in your mind about the innkeeper going around to the
back of the house to where the animals stayed - all of that is from
the Christmas carols we'll be singing Wednesday at noon. But
those are not actually details in the Scriptures.
We know that a manger is a feeding trough. It probably wasn't
made out of wood. It was probably carved out of stone, so it
was cold. "No room in the inn" means that no
accommodations for human beings were available. And all that
was left was some out-of-the-way, obscure, probably cold place that
was set aside for animals, and hence the concept of a stable.
In 1987 Andy and I spent some time in the Holy Land and were looking
around in the area surrounding Bethlehem for the sort of setting that
would have been commonplace. And in fact, there are lots of
limestone and sandstone caves in and around Bethlehem. It's
highly unlikely that the stable was a structure that had been built,
but rather, someone had uses a natural cave as a place for animals to
gather during the cold winter. And those caves often were very
large, but two stories. So when you walk in, there's a loft
area, and there is a kind of a basement area. And the loft area
was where the animals stayed because it was warmer. You know,
heat rises. So the animals would be herded up to the top and then
their food would be stored down below. What seems likely is
that Mary and Joseph took space down below where it was colder, where
there was hay, where there was the feeding trough, and that was their
place for the night.
The brevity of this account suggests that sentiment or sacrifice are
not the focus. We don't have any sense that anyone went out of
their way. We don't know how this happened. All we know
is that they found a place to stay where no one else wanted to stay.
They were given access to the last remaining unoccupied space in Bethlehem.
There was no place anywhere else. The end result of someone's
hospitality was not spectacular. It possibly wasn't even that
comfortable, but it was enough to meet a desperate need. Anyone
who has been in labor and given birth knows that the necessities of
such a moment become very basic, and that was what was provided that night.
I wish there was an innkeeper we could quote. I wish there was
a warm man, a proprietor of a business we could get to know and
interview and ask, "What went through your mind?"
But lacking such recorded dialogue, our imaginations now are given
permission to read between the lines.
They were in a situation of forced community. Joseph and Mary
were in a crowded, overworked, chaotic environment. This was a
recognition here of a particular need within that unusual,
high-pressure context. The last-resort hospitality offered only
the basics: shelter and privacy. But nobody could have guessed
where that hospitality would lead.
I don't know what it's like in your neighborhood. I grew up on
a cul-de-sac where six families and twenty children grew up together.
And that was a real community.
Nowadays people move away. The streets of our neighborhoods are
merely boulevards for many. We don't get particularly close to
our neighbors. But who lives around us are givens. We
didn't choose our neighbors. They didn't choose us. We
somehow, by the providence of God, ended up in close proximity with
one another. These are grand opportunities for God to work.
But for many of us, the communication with our neighbors never gets
beyond issues related to trees or shared fences. And the
subject, "How are the kids?" never comes up. But
things are going on in people's lives right around us. They are hurting.
They are celebrating. They are gathering their loved ones for
various reasons. We might not even be aware that they are
caring for an aging parent, or that they are experiencing job stress
or loss. We might not know about the wayward children or
illness developing. Neighbors often don't share those things.
Neighbors often close the door to such realities with one another.
This passage invites us to establish relationships amid the
high-pressured, chaotic lives many of us lead. It invites us to
expand our concept of neighbor to be one who is interested, who
cares, who is involved, who is willing to open heart and home to others.
In order to do that, the Scripture suggests that the basics are all
that are needed.
And I love this. This was my point of liberation in this passage.
I'm preaching a sermon on Christian hospitality. I don't know
about you, but that conjures up some images in my mind. The tree's
got to be up by December 1st, the cookies baked, the wreath on the
door, the centerpiece on the table. Am I right? And we
think unless our house is perfect, or it looks like Sunset Magazine
or Martha Stewart that we are not fit to give hospitality. But
this passage let's us off that hook! Right? Open the door.
Let 'em in. A greeting. A hug. A conversation.
Okay, a little hot cider would help. Do you know what I'm saying?
This passage invites us to expand our concept of neighbor to the ones
who are really around us in close proximity, but also to diminish the
sense of expectation about what we would have to give in order for it
to be considered hospitality. You never know what a genuine,
authentic encounter with your neighbor will accomplish.
I bet around this room are stories, your stories, of times when
someone has opened their life to you, and it has been a major turning
point for you. Or perhaps you know that under strange
circumstances, you opened the door to someone else, and their life
was changed as a result of your hospitality. Think about those times,
and the ministry that occurred, and that is the opportunity available
to you.
I just want to give you an example of what could be done this month,
and I'm giving you a challenge today to open your heart and open your
home to the people who live closest to you. These are people I
hope you will be praying for.
We had a great experience. There's this neighbor next door to us.
In anticipation of the sermon series, I've been praying for an
opportunity to spend a little more time with this particular neighbor.
And do you know that a week after I started praying about that, they
invited us to go to the Big Game with them, which means all day, and
it also means sitting in the Cal section. We really had to open
our hearts to that one. But I trust that it becomes a building
block in our relationship. And they did that for us!
Now here's what we're going to do for them. Yesterday in the
blustery rain I took an invitation around to just the neighbors
within two houses of us on all directions. Okay? So
that's eight or nine households. Two of the households, I'm
ashamed to admit, I didn't even know their names. And so I took
this invitation to each house, and in most cases I was able to hand
it to someone and said, "Our family just wants to invite you
over for an informal come-as-you-are Saturday morning Christmas
get-together two weeks from today. So from 9:30 to 11:00, on
December 15th, our family is opening our home, and we're going to
sing Christmas carols, (the good ones); we're going to have cider and
a few cookies; we're going to share the Christmas story."
And here's the kicker: we made an offer they might not be able to refuse.
You know how it is, you want to give something to your neighbors, or
you want to show some kind of effort for your neighbors. We
don't have snow to shovel here, right? So here in the Bay Area,
what is it that people hate to do this time of year? [from
congregation, " Rake leaves!"] Oh, rake leaves.
I forgot about that. That's a good one. But there's another one.
Stand in line at the post office, right? So on the 15th
of December, if they still have any Christmas packages that haven't
been mailed, if they're all ready for us, we will take them to the
post office that day and stand in line for them. That's what
we've offered.
Now, let's see what happens. I have no idea. This is a
way of simply opening the door and giving something to our neighbors
that we think has some practical value. What we offer comes
from our heart. This is to be genuine, authentic, caring love
to the people God has placed right close to us.
And so please, would you pray for your neighbors? Every day,
pray for God's blessing upon them. Pray for opportunities to
get together with them. Reach out and touch someone with the
love of Jesus Christ. Invite them into your home. You do
not have to be Martha Stewart to do this. You need to be Susan
Koester, Phyllis over here, Hoyt. You just need to be yourself, your
best self, your reaching-out self, to someone who's going to hang
onto you like a lifeline during this season.
Now we have a great model for us today. I was just so tickled
that this topic fell on Communion Sunday because, look at what we
have here. We have the example of our Lord, who has opened his
heart and his home to us and invited us to a sacred meal. This
is Christ's meal and you're all invited. At this Table we share fellowship.
At this Table our spirits are nurtured. At this Table our
heartaches are calmed and other fears addressed. At this Table,
we can be our real selves because Jesus has invited us as we are.
He's invited us to come and eat that which will really satisfy.
It is his offer of salvation.
This hospitality is given so that we might be touched by the love and
grace of our Heavenly father, who sent his only Son Jesus Christ the
Lord to be born of a woman under extraordinarily humble
circumstances, to live, to die, and to be raised again to eternal
life for us. Now if he can give his very life for us, surely by
the strength we gather at this Table, we can open our lives to those
who live closest to us. Let us pray.
Oh Lord God, as we come to you, we offer ourselves to be used as
servants and loving ones in the lives of those who are hurting or
just open or just unknown to us. Give us, Lord, what we need to
open our homes to them. Today we open our hearts to you for the
transforming work of your Spirit through this Sacrament. In
Jesus' name we pray. Amen.