To a World of Death and Taxes Christ Says Surprising New Life 

 Isaiah 9:2-7 and Luke 2 

December 24, 2012

 

In 1789 Benjamin Franklin wrote a letter to his good friend Jean-Baptist Leroy. The two became acquainted through their study of electricity, they became friends when Franklin served as Ambassador to France and they remained in touch through their lives. In 1789 Franklin was 83 years old and sensed that the end of his life was near. In 1789 the French Revolution was underway and Franklin was worried because he had not heard from his friend in over a year. In 1789 the United States had just adopted our newly designed government. Franklin wrote, “Our new Constitution is now established, everything seems to promise it will be durable; but, in this world, nothing is certain except death and taxes.”

Taxes are certainly in the news these days as we draw ever closer to the fiscal cliff. While we fight over whether the taxes paid by the rich and those paid by the poor are fair and just, and how our government will spend the revenue it collects from us, there is never a serious debate about getting rid of them all together. And even when our politicians boast of keeping “taxes” low we look around and notice that Mass Pike “tolls” have gone up, MBTA “fares” have risen, and a multitude of services we request of our government officials have new or higher “fees.” Taxes seem pretty certain.

Taxes are, after all, the reason given for Mary and Joseph who lived in Nazareth to be nearly 100 miles from home in Bethlehem while Mary was 9 months pregnant. As Luke tells it Emperor Augustus wanted to take a census so that the people could be taxed and rather than send census forms through the mail, or employ a host of temporary census takers to knock on doors, someone decided it would be best to have everyone travel to the town of their ancestors to be counted. So Joseph and Mary went to Bethlehem where their ancestor, King David, had been born.

The people in Isaiah’s time, those who lived in a land of deep darkness, knew something worse than taxes. Powerful armies had invaded their land, the kind of armies that just take whatever and whoever they want as they move through the countryside. Isaiah gives us the picture of people living under the heavy burden of oppressive government, beaten with a rod, being forced to carry heavy bars across their shoulders. They live in fear of the enemy soldiers, tyrants tramping around in their heavy boots, spilling innocent blood. Martin Luther once wrote that some “subjects have to carry these lords, magistrates, heads of families, etc., on their shoulders. And they do have to carry them, or the tyrants will be on them with blows and executioners.”

But even when we speak of good rulers, even democratically elected rulers the world is set up so that the authorities are carried on the shoulders of their subjects.

As for death, we all know the certainty of that, even the people of the world who don’t live under oppressive governments. Even in the places of the world that aren’t threatened by an over abundance of weapons designed only to kill. We know death. We try to put it off, to live healthy lives, eat a healthy diet, wear our seat belts and bicycle helmets, turn to medicine when we need to so that death can be averted, put of just a few more years. Most Americans hope that we can live a good long life and die peacefully in our sleep. Yet death is inevitable. The loss of an elderly grandparent or friend whom we love hurts no less because they are old. Every parent who has lost a child knows what it is like to walk in darkness, even when the sun is shining. The first funeral we had in this church this year was for young Allison Irving, who died in a car accident. When I pass by her grave or remember her family in prayer sorrow still wells up in me. The next funeral we had was for Allison’s great grandmother – our Grandma Tina. And though she lived more than 93 years I know so many of us who loved her and were loved by her still really miss her.

So the words of Isaiah resonate with us. Death, taxes, walking in darkness, sometimes living in a land of deep darkness.

Isaiah’s words resonate with the shepherds on the hill outside of Bethlehem too. “Society stereotyped shepherds as liars, degenerates, and thieves. The testimony of shepherds was not admissible in court, and many towns had ordinances barring shepherds from their city limits. The religious establishment took a particularly dim view of shepherds since the regular exercise of shepherds' duties kept them from observing the Sabbath and rendered them ritually unclean. The Pharisees classed shepherds with tax collectors and prostitutes, persons who were ‘sinners’ by virtue of their vocation.” One preacher states that shepherds were more than outsiders. “Spend enough time in the field, shunned by decent and religious folk, disappointed by God, or overwhelmed by grief, and we stop caring that we are outsiders. We give up trying to get inside religion, [we] even [give up] on God, to get on with life.”*

So we find ourselves this evening in the darkness, in the “fields of the isolated, the disenfranchised and the forgotten, or in our own painful places of spiritual wilderness.”

But then comes the light, a great light, blinding sunbursts of light shining on us in our darkness.! This is where God speaks the good news of Christ’s coming, not in the candle-lit sanctuary, not around the fireplaces or dinner tables of our cozy homes. Not under the Christmas tree surrounded by presents. “God brings great joy to those who need it most.” “God does not give up on us. God sends angels to people who have given up on God. How would you respond to God sending angels to you when you’d given up on God?” No wonder the shepherds were terrified.

But God’s way of bringing light and life to all is surprisingly peaceful, not scary at all. God’s way is to come to the world of darkness in the form of a baby. A baby who grew to be a peaceful man, who did not carry any weapons, and did not harm even his enemies as they put him to death. And by his resurrection we believe that even death was defeated by Christ through the power of his resurrection and his promise of eternal life.

Martin Luther would have us remember that this gift of Christ is truly for us. “[Christ’s] conception and birth, his suffering and death, his ascension and sitting at the right hand are all for our benefit. They belong to us.” “They are all about us. Christ didn’t need these works. He would have remained a lord quite well without them.” For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given.*

And Isaiah tells us that when Christ comes he brings light. The desolate nation is repopulated, the ghost towns come to life, joy is expanded. The people hold a glad festival of joy, sharing rich gifts and warm greetings. Under this new government the abuse of the oppressors is done away with. The people are released from military and political danger. No need for armed guards anywhere. The Lord has broken the yokes, destroyed all the weapons and all the battle gear and made a great bonfire with them.

Jesus Christ is this child, this new life. The angels assure the shepherds that Christ is born “to you” and make clear that he “is Christ the Lord.” Isaiah adds that, “the government shall be upon his shoulders.” Martin Luther observes that while all human governments are carried on the shoulders of the people, “the rule of [the] Son who was born to us works the other way around: he carries us! We rest on his shoulders; he is our bearer. See how Isaiah turns everything around, contrary to the customs of the world… Christ’s rule includes all believers, of whom he is Lord.” And it even includes those sitting in darkness who have given up on God. “We are his people and his land. And where is his government? On his shoulder! This is wonderful. Christ’s kingdom is not under his feet…it is on his shoulder.”

We start Christmas Eve in the darkness of death and taxes. We start with the shepherds who have not only been rejected but who have all but given up on God. I suspect we all know and love people who have been outside so long they have given up on God. We all know and love people who are so down and blue this Christmas that they could not come to worship. The startling good news is that while we sit here in worship, God is sending angles out into the fields with good news of great joy. Jesus is being born among people who have given up on him. In a sunburst of light Christ himself comes to them, not demanding any more punishment, but reaching out with loving arms, inviting them to “hop on!” as he carries them to new life.

Christ says to those in the churches and those still sitting in darkness, ‘Hop on! I will carry you well.” Rest on the shoulders of Christ. Allow yourself to be carried by him like the lost sheep. He has paid everything for us. Our sins, our death, our taxes our darkness are his cross. We are forgiven and he caries us to new life. Christ wants nothing but to serve us and to carry us and give us everything that brings life. Let us gladly and confidently run to him and hop on!

*With thanks for the thoughts from Craig A. Satterlee WorkingPreacher.org and Martin Luther “To Us a Child Is Born” December 1531

The Gift of Christ

The words of the prophet Isaiah start with darkness. He reminds us that the message of Christmas isn’t all superficial fluff and pretend goodwill. The message of Christmas is for real people who often walk in darkness. Those who know what it is like to live in a land of deep darkness. Isaiah’s good news is given to a people who have been living under a yoke of heavy burdens, with a burdensome bar across our shoulders so that sometimes we can barely move forward through life. The message is also for those who are oppressed by the rod of violence and poverty.

We are such a people who know darkness. We know what it means to loose loved ones to grave illness and death. We struggle with addictions, or we watch, feeling helpless as our loved ones struggle with addictions. Some have known the excruciating pain of the death of a child. Others find that when we interact with our children, we behave as badly as our parents did with us, no matter how strongly we vowed that we would be different. We know what it is to live with ongoing conflicts, anger that rarely subsides, or ingrown depression. We know the fear that comes when we loose our jobs, or can’t pay our bills, or loose the money invested for our old age. Some know great physical pain that never heals; others are trapped in mental or emotional illnesses and the social stigma that comes as part of the package. And when we take the time to reflect on our inner lives, many of us will find that there is darkness in our hearts, and in our thoughts that we’d rather not admit to.

As if our own darkness wasn’t enough, every day we sit in front of boxes that ironically use light to show us even more darkness. Not only in the news of wars, terrorism, tremendous greed of a few leading to tremendous suffering of many, and the inability of governments to work for the well-being of their people, but also in our dramas CSI, Survivor, and ER –even our comedies seem to depict more darkness than light these days. We know what it is to live in deep darkness.

The gift of Christ, which we have gathered to celebrate this evening is the very personal gift of God entering into our darkness. The heart of this celebration is not the birth of a baby per se, but that this particular baby named Jesus is both fully human and fully God.

Often we seem to sentimentalize the human part of Jesus. Oh, what a sweet baby, just like every other baby. Being born in a manger seems cute, fluffy lambs, funny shepherds dressed in bathrobes, and glowing young mother and beaming father and a visit from kings showering the family with gifts. All so sweet, calm and peaceful, but not very much like real life.

Even Luke leaves much to our imaginations when he conveys Jesus’ very human birth. He simply says, “While they were in Bethlehem, the time came for Mary to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him up and laid him in a manger because there was no place for them in the inn.”

Luke’s story may be understated, but it doesn’t take too much imagination and common sense to see how tough this event was for Mary and Joseph. Giving birth is a difficult undertaking at its best. There is a reason it is called labor. And giving birth 2000 years ago, away from home, or midwives, or an easy supply of hot water must have been traumatic indeed. Of all the Christmas pageants and movies I have seen about the nativity, the only time I have ever seen of a fully human birth of Christ depicted is in Langston Hughes’ Black Nativity. I saw it in downtown Boston about a decade ago. Mary and Joe Wallen went to see this year’s production just last Sunday. Here is how Mary describes the scene.

"This is not a romanticized version of the Christ child’s birth. Surrounded on both sides of the stage by a gospel choir, Joseph and Mary use modern dance to convey their terrible situation. They are on the road, Mary heavy with child, and suddenly Mary is doubled over in pain. She begs Joseph for help, for they have nowhere to go.

"Accompanied by African drums, Joseph, panicked, leaps about the stage, seeking shelter for his wife. He is turned away. He returns to cradle and comfort her. They have a very unusual dance together – Joseph the protective husband lifting his very pregnant wife in the air; Mary, the loving wife responding gracefully, then contracting in agony.

"Joseph exits the stage to keep searching. The drumming becomes louder and faster mirroring Mary’s pain and fear. Her solo is all angles and contractions. Her body extends as she longs for Joseph and then is pulled back over her belly as the baby draws near.

"Finally Joseph returns to her, the panic turned to resolve, ready to deal with the inevitable right where they are, in the middle of nowhere. The dancers turn their backs and after a few more contractions, Mary shows us her baby."

This is the beginning of the Good News that brings great joy. God doesn’t avoid our human darkness, but jumps into our lives of trouble and woe from the very beginning. God enters that darkness as the person of Jesus the Christ, becoming fully human. This is the basis for Paul’s strong claim that nothing can separate us from the love of God. For God is with us wherever we are.

Yet while Jesus Christ entered the darkness of human life with us, his purpose for coming into our world is to bring light and to make us children of the light. This is the meaning of salvation. Each human being was created in God’s image. So even though it is crucial to recognize that Christ is fully human, it is equally important to know that when we look at Christ he is also fully God. If we want to see how God intended each of us to be, we only need to look at Christ. When we decide to turn away from the darkness of our sins, and focus on the light of Christ we will be transformed and become children of the light.

Though you may not know this from what you see on tv, there are people imitating Christ and reflecting his light all the time. We just need to learn to look for it and recognize when it is happening. I found a great source on a web site called Good News Network with stories like this; the students of Dublin High School in San Francisco chose Rachel Cooperstein, a young woman with Downs syndrome as their home coming queen. An 11-year-old girl began drawing pictures of birds to raise money for the clean up of the Gulf Coast and she raised $200,000. A group of teens in Kansas found a discarded purse on the side of the road as the walked along and discovered $7,000 in it. They decided to return it to the owner, who was an elderly widow, planning to buy a memorial for her late husband. But we don’t need to turn to the news to see the light of Christ all around us. When we wake in the morning to a new day that is a gift from Christ. When someone says “thank you” that is the light of Christ. When a driver stops to let you cross the street, that is the light of Christ. When someone invites you for dinner, or a cup of coffee, that is the light of Christ. When you are invited to join with others in studying the word of God, or serve the hungry and lonely at Breaking Bread that is the light of Christ. When we gather to remember other children of the light who have passed from this world to the next, that is the light of Christ.

And we can participate in creating more light in the world. Every time we choose to forgive someone, every time we act with self-giving love, every time we exercise patience, kindness, gentleness or self-control we are walking as God’s children of light. Every time we sit with someone who is grieving, tend to someone who is sick, try to find the peaceful solution to the problem we are walking as God’s children of light.

The story of Christ’s birth in Luke is filled with light. This light is signified by the word glory – the angle of the Lord stood before the shepherds and the glory of the Lord shone around them. The heavenly choir of angles sang glory to God in the highest heaven! And after seeing the newborn Christ the shepherds returned with glory in their hearts and on their tongues as they told everyone of what they had seen. The mood of the story is filled with light too. The news of the angles was good news, of great joy, for everybody. I don’t know about you, but when I hear good news and am filled with great joy I feel like my feet are off the ground – I feel light.

In the season of Advent we focused on of hope, peace, joy and love as gifts from God. On this Christmas eve we can be sure that as we unwrap the gift of Christ in our lives we will also find the hope, peace, joy and love that life in Christ promises us. May we all walk together as children of the light so that our lives glorify God with every step we take.