Homily given by Rev. Frank on Christmas Eve, December 24, 2023.

On this blessed night, when the overriding expectation is joy, can we also acknowledge that, some years, Christmas is hard? If you’re young, the waiting can be hard; as a child told me this morning, “I’m trying to not be naughty.” And tonight, waiting for the moment when the talking stops and the lights are turned down and you get to hold your lit candle, and we sing. We’re almost there!

As you get older, Christmas can be hard because it evokes memories of what has been lost. We remember our loved ones who have died; the rituals of this season remind us of what has changed, that our time on this earth is not as long as we once thought. Christmas tenderizes our hearts, which is a good thing, but it’s not easy.

There are a number of you who have recently lost beloved family members or friends to death. Many of us are carrying sorrow and pain in these days. To say nothing of the trouble and suffering in our world. 

The challenge of Christmas is that it cracks us open to the pain and messiness of life. Which can feel magnified in this season. And as hard as this can be, this is also a gift, and an invitation.

Here we come, to light our candles and sing our songs of joy and peace. I love this night, and this place, and that you have come here; and together we hear the old story of Emmanuel, God with us. We open ourselves to the mystery of the incarnation, the faith claim that the Holy is not out there somewhere, but right here, in these messy and out of the way places that we inhabit. 

We recently started a twice a month grief support circle here, and the other night we were talking about how the loss of a loved one can shatter the illusion that many of us walk around with, that we are in control of our lives. Until we aren’t.

Think about Mary—a young woman, with eyes for this guy Joseph; she’s minding her own business when an angel appears, uninvited, to tell her that everything is about to change, in a big way. What about poor Joseph, who loves Mary and stays by her side, though we can only imagine what he’s thinking. And the shepherds, just out there abiding in the fields like they do, when again angels stop by and cause them to be sore afraid. That’s really afraid. 

It’s human to be afraid. There are plenty of people in our world who are afraid right now, and fear can make us do unwise and unhelpful things. But the message of Christmas, right there in the gospels, is “fear not.” It’s what Jesus kept saying in his ministry. “What are you afraid,” he’d ask. “Do you still have no faith?”

Rainer Maria Rille says this is where we humans need to grow up. To have the courage to face the mystery and the uncertainties of life. And to the extent we have been unwilling to do so, our ability to enter and face and enjoy the depth of human experience has shriveled and been diminished. Our fear of the challenge has caused us to miss the gift.

“This is in the end the only kind of courage that is required of us: the courage to face the…  (mysterious) experiences that meet us. The fact that people have in this sense been cowardly has done infinite harm to life… all these Things that are so closely related to us, have through our daily defensiveness been so entirely pushed out of life that the senses with which we might have been able to grasp them have atrophied. To say nothing of God.”

This my simple Christmas message: in these days, to take courage; to drop your defenses and open your arms and welcome the world into your embrace. To be open to the wonder of these days. So we can apprehend the mystery and the blessing of these lives we have been given. So we can be open to one another, and the ways that God is moving in our midst. Calling us to join the dance of life. Facing these challenges and receiving these gifts.

On this holy night, let us dare to hear the angels singing, and feel the holy Presence moving, to wake up to our place in this wondrous mystery, and know it all as blessing.

Now and forever, Amen.