**sermon art: Guatemalan Nativity by John Giuliani (1990s)
Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on December 24, 2024 at 11 a.m., 3 p.m., 5 p.m., and 7 p.m.
[sermon begins after the Bible story of Christmas – it’s 20 verses, hang in there]
Luke 2:1-20 In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2 This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3 All went to their own towns to be registered. 4 Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. 5 He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. 6 While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. 7 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 place for them in the inn.
[sermon begins]
Has it ever happened to you that someone suddenly handed you a baby and said, “Here, hold them for a second?” You and the baby stare at each other in shock and wonder what just happened. There’s a little bit of panic on both sides to see how this is going to go. As a pediatric nurse and now a pastor, these baby-holding times can be as daunting as they are precious. A startled baby can be tricky. In related news, I DO often ask if littles are willing to BE held. Just last week, a one-year-old let me hold her for a bit while her parents and I talked about her baptism. She was squishy and solid and clamped onto my shoulder and hip in the way of one-year-olds. She was also herself – wide-eyed, thoughtful, super chill, taking everything in. The four of us walked into this Sanctuary with her still in my arms, and I showed her the baptismal font. IT. WAS. AWESOME! And it made me think about holding space and being held.
There was nothing but space out in the fields where the shepherds were keeping their sheep. Wide open space for the sheep to eat and the shepherds to sleep. Until…until…awakened in terror by light shattering the certainty of the dark night, their wide-open space descended upon by the angel who woke them up, told them not to be afraid, and announced good news of great JOY for ALL the people. News SO good that they raced to Bethlehem to see this good news baby for themselves and to tell his mom and dad all about it.
Mary began her adventure as Jesus’ mom by consenting to hold space for a pregnancy of epic proportions. Orthodox Christians call Mary, Theotokos, which means God-bearer. Her body literally expanded and stretched to hold the divine. How daring and determined and fierce Mary must have been to hold space for Love to be risked and shaped and birthed. While Joseph’s mind and heart expanded and stretched to hold space for his new bride and his adopted son.
Then there was the space to be born. Room with the animals. Space in their feeding trough, the manger, to hold the newborn Jesus who embodied God’s Love. A manger made by human hands would be imperfect, a sliver here and a splintered peg there. But the manger would perfectly reveal the Love that was born on Christmas – “A baby, wrapped in bands of cloth, and lying in manger.” The manger is much like the Bible in which the story of Jesus’ birth is told. A sacred story written by human hands, imperfect but revealing the Christ perfectly. The manger and scripture holding space in and around them for human imperfection to meet the unconditional grace of divine Love. Holding space to reveal Jesus, the One who made God’s Love real in his ministry on earth. The One who leads us to love God and to love our neighbors as ourselves.
Perhaps a more immediate and literally concrete example of holding space would help us get the gist of it. Just down the street, on donated land from this congregation, Augustana Homes are being built by Habitat for Humanity and hundreds of volunteers from around the city. Affordable homes that hold space in the form of three-to-four-bedroom townhomes for working families to call home. Going from a baby born in a manger because there was no room in the inn, to families who will have a way into homeownership, may be a leap of faith, but it also makes perfect sense when told alongside the Christmas story.
On Christmas, holding space and being held happen simultaneously. We are held in this moment in time. We could be anywhere else, and yet we are here. There are many reasons to end up at church on Christmas Eve. As many reasons as there are people here. Maybe it’s your habit or annual tradition. Maybe it’s easier to be here with family than to be somewhere else without family. Maybe your family is fractured, and you wandered in wondering if community can be found. Maybe your faith calls you here in gratitude. Maybe your life has become such a hot mess that church on Christmas Eve feels like a last-ditch attempt to find a way through. Maybe the peace of candlelight is good for your heart. Or maybe you just simply love the collective effervescence of singing together in this Sanctuary.
Whatever draws you here in this moment in time, you are held in the cradle of this Sanctuary. Sacred space where thousands of people have gathered across time for baptisms, weddings, funerals, Christmases, Easters, and Sunday mornings. Sinner-saints held by a sacred space as we gather to remind each other of what’s so easy to forget in the anxiety of life, the disarray of politics, and the competition of culture. We remind each other that God’s welcome through this congregation includes everyone. At a time when the surgeon general declared an epidemic of loneliness, we are a community of hope, who support each other through suffering as we celebrate our joys and serve locally and globally. Being human is complicated. Being yourself shouldn’t be. You are welcome here.
If even that is too much to get our heads around, let’s try our hands. When you come forward for communion, your hands held together and facing up make a manger of sorts as you hold space for the bread given to you, imperfectly cradling Jesus’ presence with hands that may have a sliver here or a bent finger there, and with fragile bodies as we eat. Despite our imperfections or, just maybe, because of them, the perfect presence of Jesus dwells within us, and we are held by the One who taught us that there is nothing we can do or not do to make God love us any more or any less. This is definitely good news of great joy for all people, which also means that it is good news for you. Merry Christmas!