BORN IN THE NIGHT, MARY’S CHILD

Rev. Karen Pidcock-Lester

First Presbyterian Church, Pottstown, Pa.

Advent , 2007

Micah 5:2-5a

Matthew 12:1-12

Read Matthew 12:1-12

Introduction

Most of the Christmas carols we love were written 100 or more years ago. But one carol which I love was written relatively recently, in 1964. It was written by a pastor who ministered in the industrial areas of England. It is a simple, quiet, yet lovely song, much like the birth of which it sings.

We will sing the carol at the close of the sermon, but let us listen to just one verse of it here at the beginning, so that it might linger in the background as we listen to the Word.

(Lee and Abby )

Pray.

“In the time of King Herod…,” so the scripture begins.

The time of King Herod the Great was a tumultuous time, when politics and religion were both at odds and entangled with one another. It was a time of rebellion, royal rivalries, holy wars. When the wise men made their way to Jerusalem ‘in the time of King Herod,” they traveled during a time of upheaval and unrest.

But the palace they came to in Jerusalem was magnificent. During his reign, Herod had accomplished many extravagant building projects. The palace where the wise men met with Herod was fortified and protected by three great towers, one of which was massive in itself. The palace had running water, supplied by an aqueduct. In the palace, there were indoor pools with inlaid tile, and beds inlaid with ivory. Multitudes of servants assisted Herod’s wives with baths, perfumes, jewels, and lavish feasts.

In the shadow of the palace, 6 miles away, lay the town of Bethlehem. Bethlehem was a little town, from ‘the least of the clans,’ with little or nothing to commend itself. It was, both literally and figuratively, overshadowed by Jerusalem.

In that town was a stable. Now, the region surrounding Bethlehem was hilly, rocky terrain, so the places where animals were housed probably would have been not barns as we think of them, but caves in the hillside. Picture that. The room where Jesus was born would have been dark, except for the light of a lantern, if there was one. The entrance to the cave would have been low – anyone entering it would have had to stoop. The air would have been warmed by the breath and bodies of the animals. As in any barn, the odors of fodder and hay and feces would have hung in the air, the sounds of shuffling, lowing, bleating, the feel of thick fleece, the sight of bright peering creature eyes and pointed ears would have met anyone who entered (adapted, Wendy Wright, The Vigil, p.91)

In the time when King Herod ruled from a palace throne room in Jerusalem,

Jesus was born in Bethlehem in a borrowed room.

Two rulers. Two realms. Two rooms.

Before which ruler, in which room, would you have chosen to kneel?

We modern people, especially Protestants, do not do a lot of kneeling these days. We do not kneel to our rulers, or our clergy. I doubt many of us kneel in prayer. But whether or not we are conscious of it, we all submit before someone or something. Perhaps if we were to physically kneel, we would be more mindful of what we are doing. (kneel)

Something happens when we kneel before someone. We put ourselves lower than the one to whom we kneel. We put ourselves in their hands, at their mercy. We submit to them, give ourselves to them – either out of respect, honor, or love – as a lover kneels before his beloved to pledge himself for life. (stand)

When we kneel before someone, we express with our bodies what we feel in our souls and choose with our minds: that we are theirs.

Two rulers. Two realms. Two rooms.

Before which ruler, in which room, would you have chosen to kneel?

Be careful. Consider closely. There are consequences to your decision.

And there is more here than meets the eye. The scripture tells us that in the palace, alongside the grandeur, there was also fear – “everyone was frightened,” records Matthew. History tells us that in that palace there was deceit, treachery, competition, and cruelty. Herod pursued power ruthlessly: he executed one of his wives, imprisoned two of his sons who were tried and executed for treason, and he slaughtered leading citizens of the city for his own advantage. If you did not bow to him, you risked your life.

In contrast, in that borrowed room, there was joy. Overwhelming joy, say the scriptures. “The wise men were overwhelmed with joy.” If you did bow to this ruler, you risked your life.

But you also found life.

Two rulers. Two realms. Two rooms.

The choice is still ours today.

Deciding the wise answer is easy. We all know the answer. That is why we are here.

Now, 2000 years later, after all we know about the One born into that borrowed room, that he would with his strange, paradoxical power, conquer every enemy, including Death, now it seems clear that he would be better choice for our allegiance and obeisance.

It is easy to know which ruler to give our lives to.

But it is harder to do it.

The truth is that the pull of Herod’s palace is strong. Mighty strong.

It was strong then. It is strong today.

Who among us does not want something of what the Herods of the world have got?

Oh, not to his extreme – he was a megalomaniac, after all.

But who among us would not welcome a little more security,

a little less vulnerability,

a little more control over the way things turn out,

a little more comfort, ease

a little more recognition…

what citizen would not want his nation to be a little more powerful, her army a little stronger,

and wouldn’t any means justify that end?

Those scribes and priests who counseled Herod were not bad men –

they didn’t want to hurt anyone.

They just didn’t want to get hurt themselves.

So they bowed down to their Herod.

The pull of the palace is mighty.

It takes a wise person to resist the bright lure, the color, the glitter of the palace that is right in front of your eyes, and instead go out into the night to search for a hidden stable in an unknown land.

It takes a wise person to wrench herself free of the seductive voices of the ruling powers who call “Come back! ...” and instead find another way to walk through the world, a way that defies the influence and power of Herod;

it takes a wise person to know when to take a stand, and when to kneel, and to whom.

And the truth is…

very few of us are always entirely wise.

When we are wise, we know what we will find in the borrowed room with this Christ: we will find a shepherd, guide, ruler like no other. We know that if we enter and kneel, if we give everything to him, we like the wise men will be overwhelmed with joy.

But there is a fool in each of us.

A fool that is lured by the appeal and charms of Herod’s realm.

The pull of the palace is strong.

So most of us, being both wise and foolish, spend our lives shuttling between the castle and the cave, between the palace and the borrowed room,

bobbing before Herod one minute and Jesus Christ the next.

I can tell when I have drifted out of the stable and wandered back into Herod’s realm. If I stop to pay attention, I can tell. Can you?

When I am resentful of other’s good fortune and miserly with my own, I have fallen under the shadow of the palace;

when I am irritated with people who disappoint and somehow don’t ‘measure up’ to my expectations, when I ‘keep score,’ I am in Herod’s territory;

when I dish out judgment instead of grace, and it feels good;

when I have eyes only for the budget and not the people around me;

when I think my worth is determined by the invitations I receive or the recognition I get or the house I live in;

when I am frenzied because the ‘world is too much with us,’ and I miss the signs of the heavens;

when I cannot settle in the Lord’s presence;

when I despair for my children and my children’s children

when there is more anxiety in me than joy,

more anger in me than peace,

more grumbling than gratitude,

more confusion than clarity,

more fear in me than hope,

then I know that I have drifted away from the dominion of the stable and returned to Herod’s realm of competition and control and chaos...

and I need to find the child again.

“Where is the child? Where will I find the Holy One?”, the wise people ask.

Where he has always been found: as a babe or as a man, he has always been found among life’s weak and hurting ones, among the shunned, dismissed or forgotten ones -- shepherds, fishermen, lepers, blind men, women, children…

or he has been found with the Marys and Josephs, the men and women who listen to the voice of God and say “Yes, Lord, let it be with me according to your Word. I am your servant.”

If I can be wise once again, when I have drifted away from the stable, I will realize that I must return to these people if I want to find Christ again …return to the servants of the Lord and be one myself, return to the company of the weak and the outcast and the forgotten ones and keep my eyes open…

because I am more likely to find Christ when I am sleeping in a borrowed room in Mississippi than when I am sleeping in a palatial suite at a resort hotel;

I am more likely to know his presence when I am struggling to forgive someone who has hurt me than when I am devising plans to hurt another;

I am more likely to meet Christ in the kitchen of a Community meal or a Seeker cookie bake than in the dining room of Le Bec Fin

I am more likely to hear him speak through the troubled person who sits in the lamplight of the Maryann Yost room than through the self-assured expert who stands in the spotlight on the staget;

I am more likely to know Christ’s peace by keeping watch in the night

than by being admired by thousands in the light of day;

I am more likely to behold his glory in a thatched-roof chapel than in a televised stadium cathedral.

If I can be wise once again, I will remember that I am more likely to find him if I leave the familiarity and security of my life -- as Mary and Joseph left Nazareth, the shepherds left the hillside, the wise men left the East, the disciples left their homes – and step out in faith into the dark.

He was born in the night, in a borrowed room…

that is his way. It has always been his way.

And that is where he will be found.

Those who are wise enough to diligently search for him there

will find what they seek:

a shepherd to provide and protect,

a clear, shining light to show the path through a dark world

hope, even in tumultuous times, especially in tumultuous times,

and joy, overwhelming joy.

Every year, on at least one Christmas card, a poem arrives in the mail. It was written a few years after the bloodiest war known to humanity, World War I. “One Solitary Life”. It begins:

“He was born in an obscure village

The child of a peasant woman

He grew up in another obscure village

Where he worked in a carpenter shop

Until he was thirty

He never wrote a book

H never held an office

He never went to college

He never visited a big city

He never traveled more than two hundred miles

From the place where he was born

He did none of the things usually associated with greatness

He had no credentials but himself…

When he was dead

He was laid in a borrowed grave

Through the pity of a friend.”

But Napoleon Bonaparte said of him,

“I know men. And I tell you that Jesus Christ is no mere man. Between him and every other person in the world there is no possible term of comparison. Alexander, Caesar, Charlemagne, and I founded empires. But on what did we rest the creations of our genius? Upon force. Jesus Christ founded His empire upon love; and at this hour millions of people would die for him.”

In New York City, at this time of year, in the lobby of the Metropolitan Museum of Art you can see a beautiful, and very large nativity scene. It is made in the baroque style, with 50 figures clothed in silk arranged on a high hillside. The figures are familiar: angels, shepherds, wise men, animals, and of course, Mary, Joseph and Jesus. But there is something different about this nativity scene. Where there is normally a stable or a cave, here the baby Jesus is housed beneath tall Roman columns. Even more striking is the fact that the Roman columns are in ruins. Picture that, for it tells the truth.

Empires and emperors pass away, Herods and ceasars and palaces come to ruin,

but the baby born in the night in a borrowed room

reigns forever.

Two rulers, two realms, two rooms.

This day, before which ruler, in which room, will you kneel?