Sermon - The Rev. Dr. Elise A. Feyerherm, Dec. 25th, 2023

2022 Christmas Day

John 1:1-14

In the beginning was the Word. I keep coming back to that one word – beginning.

From one point of view, Christmas is the end. The presents are bought and wrapped, the cookies have been baked, and soon the decorations will be taken down. We spent all this time waiting during Advent – seven whole weeks at St. Paul’s! – waiting for the culmination, the end of anticipation, the end of shopping, the end of the Christmas frenzy – Christmas is seen, in some worlds, as the goal of everything we’ve been doing these past weeks.

But in our church calendar, Christmas has just begun – in fact, the festival itself lasts for the next few weeks, until Epiphany. And if you go to Rome in January, you’ll see that the Christmas trees and decorations stay up not just till Epiphany, but until February 2, the feast of the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple. Forty days of Christmas, of dwelling in the Word that dwelt with us.

And we notice, when we look again, that John’s gospel of Incarnation focuses not on endings, but on beginnings: In the beginning was the Word. This poetic and mysterious prologue to John’s gospel is so different from the stories of the birth of the baby Jesus in Luke and Matthew (and remember that Mark’s gospel has no Christmas story at all). 

This morning, Christmas morning, John’s gospel carries us away from the manger and out into the world. Last night was about the baby, about arrival. This morning is about the Christ, and about setting out again. Luke’s nighttime nativity story of Roman emperors and a young mother and dirty shepherds and bright angels draws us in to the glorious thing that has happened in our midst. John’s clear vision of light shining in the darkness calls us to imagine what could happen now that we’ve seen that light. Christmas Eve is about the fulfillment of something long awaited; Christmas morning is about what comes next. 

On the one hand, thinking about what comes next can be quite exciting. But beginnings are hard, because beginnings always mean something has come to an end. They mean that we’re facing uncharted territory, the realization that we will probably be called to do things differently in the days ahead.

Births are beginnings, and they are hard. They are full of pain and blood and sweat and tears. And once the birth has taken place, the baby still has to be taken care of – the work is just beginning. Once Mary had given birth, her son still needed to be wrapped, and nursed, and bathed, and protected. Once the Savior who is Christ the Lord was born, he had to grow up, be baptized in the Jordan, call his disciples, teach, heal, suffer, die, and be raised from the dead. The birth is no ending at all, but the beginning of a strange and yet life-giving story. 

This parish is in a unique place to understand the particular poignancy of certain things coming to an end, and other things beginning. This parish is in transition – a rector has left, and a new rector has not yet been chosen. It would be a lot easier if this Christmas were simply another Sunday in a long line of Sundays that are basically the same, just a little more festive. It would be a lot easier if this Christmas were not a new beginning. But it is a new beginning. An ending, for sure, but also the start of new life.

The work is just beginning, and not just here at St. Paul’s where a rector is gone and a new rector has yet to be chosen. The work is just beginning across the world, because it’s Christmas, and the Word has become flesh and has pitched its tent among us. 

John’s gospel reminds us that what was incarnate in Jesus was in fact the Word of God. Our Nicene Creed, handed down to us from the ancient Church, affirms that this Word is “God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God; begotten not made; of one being with the Father.” Not just a messenger, not just a representative, an emissary, but fully and completely God. God’s Word is not just about bringing a message for us to listen to – it is about God’s own self-communication. God is not just talking to us in Jesus – God is here with us, in us, inviting us into all the possibilities which that entails.

This is the morning when it all begins – now we have the joy of setting about the business of actually pondering what we’re supposed to do with this news that God is with us in human flesh, that the Word has encamped in our midst.

The greatest joy about this beginning is that we’re not the ones who are setting it in motion. “The light shines in the darkness,” the gospel says, “and the darkness did not overcome it.” The wonderful thing about light is that all you have to do to receive it is open your eyes. Or in the case of the Word, open your ears. Open your heart.

Now it ends. Now it begins – What new thing will God Incarnate do in your life, in our lives here in this place? The Word has only just begun to echo in our ears and in our hearts; the light has only begun to sparkle in our eyes.

Blessed be the God of new beginnings.

Let us pray:

God of grace and truth, 

whose word brings light to birth 

in the heart of a darkening world 

which fears a love it cannot name: 

may flesh be blessed and born anew 

by a truth which leaves the heavens 

and walks the waiting earth; 

through Jesus Christ, the Word incarnate. 

Amen.