Christmas Eve, December 24, 2015

Angel Words

Shannon J. Kershner
Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Luke 2

As we are glad, Creator God, when the dawn reveals the world to us,
innocent and fresh, so we may discover the infant in the manger,
and in delight be ready to start anew.

New Zealand Prayer Book

“Don’t be afraid.” That is always the first thing that comes out of an angel’s mouth. Don’t be afraid. Be ye not afraid. Do not fear. Fear not. However you translate it, angel voices always issue the holy invitation to lean into courage rather than to give into fear.

“Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God,” the angel Gabriel promised that young, engaged yet unmarried, peasant girl named Mary. And after the angel tried to help her lean into courage, he immediately delivered the very odd-holy-terrifying-amazing news that, if her heart was open to it, God’s creative power was going to take place in her very body, and she would be the one who would smuggle God’s love into the world through the birth of a baby. But first, don’t be afraid.

In the Gospel of Matthew, the angel delivered that “do not be afraid” message to Joseph, as he dreamt. “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid,” the angel called out to him. And after trying to point Joseph in the direction of courage, the angel then delivered the very awkward truth about what had happened with Mary, his fiancée, and how he, the soon-to-be husband but not the father, was being called to name that baby Jesus and to adopt him as his own, loving him, raising him, then learning to give him away just as Mary would learn to do. But first, do not be afraid.

The shepherds heard those words as well. There they were, minding their own business, watching their sheep, just doing their jobs when suddenly, brightness broke out all around them and angels appeared.

Don’t be afraid, an angel called. And then the angel told the shepherds of the birth. A birth that was to be good news of great joy for all the people. And the shepherds, like Mary, like Joseph, decided to lean into courage rather than to give into fear. They immediately took off to see what they would find. But again, the first words from holy mouths: Don’t be afraid.

Don’t be afraid. Be not afraid. Fear not. These are Christmas words for sure, but they are also some of the most powerful words in all of scripture for every day of our lives, not just for Christmas Eve, for this holy call to have courage, to not be afraid, speaks in direct opposition to the growing environment of fear that permeates so much of our lives these weary days.

Fear of death, of aging, of becoming irrelevant or unimportant. Fear of violence, of others who look different or believe differently or love differently. Fear of not having enough or of losing what we have. Fear of war, of terrorism, of the unknown. Fear of feeling helpless in the face of systemic problems like racism and climate change. Fear of not being good enough, of never being good enough, and even, perhaps, fear of God. I’m not talking about the biblical “fear means reverence.” I mean “fear of God” as in afraid of, scared of, terrified of the one for whom we wait. That kind of theological fear is certainly a part of our environment, too.

As I have said before in this pulpit, so much of what gets publicly lifted up about Christianity by both non-Christians and Christians alike traffics in that kind of fear. Evangelism professor Leonard Sweet writes that religion often spreads fear so it can sell hope (Leonard Sweet, quoted in a sermon by Dr. Joseph Clifford at First Presbyterian Church in Dallas, Texas, 24 December 2010). Just this past week, I have heard and watched a man drive a van painted all over with Christian religious slogans. And each day, even today, he drives that van up and down Michigan Avenue with hell-fire and brimstone sermons blaring out of the speaker mounted on top. From what I have heard, the basic message he wants to proclaim to all the world is, You better get the rules just right; you better believe enough; you better not mess up; you better live exactly as we say the Bible says you should live; you better know the true meaning of Christmas, or else . . . Faith by fear.

And yet “Don’t be afraid” is what the angels, messengers from the Holy One, always say first. Fear not. That is the message God repeatedly gives them to proclaim to all the world: Be not afraid.

A few years ago, I overheard my retired-preacher father talking with a friend. Dad summed up his Texas ministry by saying, “I spent almost forty years trying to tell people again and again that God is not a creep or a bully.” That is my father’s very colloquial way of saying he tried his whole ministry to help people fully hear the words of the angels: Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid of failing as a disciple. Don’t be afraid that God is out to get you. Don’t be afraid you are not good enough or that the chaos will win. Don’t be afraid that hate and violence are slowly taking over. It might seem like it at times, but they are not, so don’t be afraid. Be not afraid. Fear not.

Or, as my father said, trust that God is not a creep or a bully. But how do we know? How do we know we really don’t need to be afraid? There is plenty of fear to go around, and it gets louder all the time. Some of our public leaders are counting on our fear increasing in the hope that might translate to votes for one party or the other.

Much of our public life is dominated by fear. So how do we know we don’t need to give into that fear? Our Christian faith’s response to that question is the whole reason we are here tonight. We don’t need to be afraid—either afraid of our world or of God—because we have seen God’s face. Yet not only have we seen God’s face, we have seen it in a totally unanticipated way.
In one of her sermons, Barbara Brown Taylor reflects on what must have happened in the heavens when God first told the angels of God’s plan to come among us as a baby. In response, Taylor surmises, the angels asked God,

Could you at least create yourself as a magical baby with special powers? . . . It wouldn’t take much—just the power to become invisible, maybe the power to hurl bolts of lightning if the need arose. [The angels all felt] God’s baby idea was a stroke of genius, but it lack[ed] adequate safety features. God thanked the angels for their concern but said, no, God thought God would just be a regular baby. How else could God gain the trust of God’s creatures? . . . There was a risk . . . a high risk . . . but that was part of what God wanted us to know—that God was willing to risk everything to get close to us in hopes that we might love God again. (Barbara Brown Taylor, “God’s Daring Plan).

Poet Madeline L’Engle reflected on the mystery of God’s choice when she wrote, “Cribb’d, cabined, and confined within the contours of a human infant. The infinite defined by the finite? The Creator of all life thirsty and abandoned? Why would he do such a thing? Aren’t there easier and better ways for God to redeem his fallen creatures?” (Madeline L’Engle, “The Irrational Season,” The Crosswicks Journal, Book Three, p. 18).

Indeed, as Taylor’s sermon and L’Engle’s poem indicate, God did not have to show us God’s love by becoming totally helpless and defenseless as a newborn baby. The Word who was in the beginning with God did not have to reconcile the world in part by trusting that a young peasant girl named Mary and a carpenter named Joseph would lean more into courage than give into fear. God could have shown up the way some still expect God to return—on a human throne, with fire and brimstone, flames for eyes, and a lion’s roar.

But on this Christmas Eve, living in a culture steeped in fear, we proclaim that is not what God did. That is not the choice God made. God came into this world through Mary’s body, with Joseph’s care, surrounded by animals and hay and shepherds. God came into this world wailing at the disruption of birth, hungry for his mother’s milk, wanting, needing to be held and cradled and soothed.

That is how our God has chosen to be known by us. In God’s holy wisdom, God knew that in order for us to not be afraid, we needed a savior who would get down into the messiness and complexity of life with us. God knew that in order for us to not be afraid, we needed a savior for whom flesh and blood, joy and suffering, courage and fear, life and death were good enough to take on first hand, thereby absorbing it all into the heart of the Holy.

On this Christmas Eve, we proclaim God knew in order for us to not be afraid we needed a Savior who would willingly be confined within the contours of an infant in order to show us how God feels about us and all creation. The face of the baby Jesus is the face of our be-not-afraid God who means us no harm. And it is the face of a God who makes sure that all angelic messages begin with the call to fear not, to be not afraid. This is the God whose birth and whose promised return we celebrate tonight.

So friends, despite whatever else we hear out there, as followers of Jesus, we are invited, called, challenged to be not afraid. To fear not. For we have seen the face of our God and know the incomprehensible depth of God’s love. May we all go from this time of worship tonight deciding to lean into courage rather than to give into fear, trusting that God is still at work in this world and even at work in and through us.

Just imagine what could happen in our lives and in this world if we all decided to heed the angels’ voices and to not be afraid anymore. Amen.