Isaiah 52:7-10
Hebrews 1:1-4, (5-12)
John 1:1-14
Psalm 98
The
opening of John’s Gospel may at first seem like an odd reading for Christmas
morning. There is no star in the east, no manger in Bethlehem, no angels, and
no shepherds. There isn’t even a mention of Mary, the virgin mother of our Lord
or her husband Joseph. John takes us back further. He takes us back before even
the foundation of the world was laid, back before time itself. He takes us
to a beginning before the beginning, into the depths of eternity, and into the
very heart of God himself.
It
is fitting that John’s gospel is traditionally represented by an eagle. No
other gospel soars to quite the dizzying heights that John’s does, nor does any
gospel speak so openly of Jesus’ divinity. Among all of God’s creatures, none
is able to gaze into the dazzling brilliance of the sun’s light like the eagle.
John pierces deep into the eternal mysteries of God and shares with us what he
sees. Many readers find themselves closer to God when reading the gospel of
John than any other book in scripture. Tradition tells us that the author of
the fourth gospel was the beloved disciple, John, whom we are told would rest
his head in the Lord’s breast, close to his heart. These are the words of the
one who was so near to the One who was in the bosom of the Father from all
eternity.
If
we want to understand the miraculous birth of that first Christmas morning,
John tells us that we need to understand another birth. Jesus Christ is the only begotten Son of the
Father. As the Nicene Creed tells us, “the only Son of God, eternally begotten
of the Father.” Before Jesus was born of the Blessed Virgin Mary, he was born
from the heart of the Father in Eternity. He was the Word spoken by God before
all worlds through whom all things were made.
Words
fail us here, however, because as soon as we say “begotten” or “spoken” we
immediately imply that there was a time when he was not. Bound as we are by
time, we cannot conceive of eternity which is beyond time.
You
may have noticed our beautiful Christmas wreath hanging on top of the rood
screen. Such wreaths have become synonymous with the Christmas season. They
were used by many pre-Christian people as symbols of victory, peace, hope, and
renewal. Christians embraced them as a profound symbol of their own faith. The
wreath is round; it has so beginning and no end. Moreover, it is traditionally
made with the branches of evergreens which persist throughout the changing
seasons. In this way, they are powerful reminders of the eternal life of God.
Like the wreath, Christ has no beginning and no end, but is always and
continuously begotten of the Father in one eternal generation.
John
writes “in the beginning was the Word.” Before there was a beginning there was
the Word. “The Word was with God,” he says, implying a distinction between God
the Father and the Son. Yet he continues, “the Word was God.” Again we are soaring
with John above the limits of human perception or understanding, and we must be
content to simply gaze at the mystery with awe. What we can say is this: what
is begotten of God is of the same kind as God. What is spoken by God is an
expression and extension of God’s own being. The Nicene Creed calls him “God
from God, Light from Light.”
The
image used is one of one candle being lit from another. If you were here at our
midnight service last night, you got to experience this in a tangible way. From
one light, many lights were lit. They were all of the same kind, though
distinct. The first light was not diminished by lighting the second. In the
same way the Son is an expression of the fullness of the Father’s deity, distinct
while being the same in kind and undiminished.
John
says, “What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of
all people.” The same flame that was lit in Christ from the fire of the
Father’s own heart has been lit also on the earth to give light to all of us
who live in darkness.
This
is the promise of eternal life which is to know the only True God and Jesus
Christ who he has sent. This is the light that enlightens all who come into the
world but which in our sinful rebellion we choose to suppress and deny. Here in
the bleak midwinter, in the darkest time of year, Christmas day shines with the
brightness of that light, and for however briefly and fleetingly the world sees
it and rejoices.
God
came down to Earth that first Christmas day. John writes, “The Word became
flesh and dwelt among us.” The creator of all things who was begotten before
time humbled himself and consented to be born of a mortal woman in a cave in a
remote place in the world. In this simple birth, a birth like countless others
in the history of the world, God visits his people with his redeeming love.
This is a revelation too lofty for human beings to attain. Because we could not
rise to him, God stooped to us.
Dorothy
Sayers has compared the incarnation to the moment when the author of a play
steps out on stage to take a bow. Some have suggested an even better analogy
for the Incarnation comes from Sayer’s own mystery novels. Sayers wrote about
an aristocratic sleuth named Lord Peter Wimsey.
Throughout
much of her novels Lord Wimsey is a bachelor, but eventually he meets Harriet
Vane. This heroine bears a remarkable similarity to the author Sayers herself.
She too is a mystery novelist and like Sayers one of the first women to
graduate from Oxford. Eventually Wimsey and Vane fall in love and marry.
Isn’t
that interesting? Sayers loved her creation so much that she chose to become a
character in her own novel and wrote herself into his story. Perhaps this was
always her intention from the beginning. How could Lord Wimsey know unless she
chose to reveal it to him?
This
is precisely what God did for us. He became part of our story in the
incarnation. He entered into our world to rescue us and knit himself to us
forever. He chose to reveal himself to
us. Jesus’ birth is a declaration of love and reconciliation to mankind. These
are the tidings of the Christmas angels; the song of peace and good will
towards mankind on whom God’s favor rest.
Much
has been said about the degradation and commercialization of the Christmas
season, but for all that seeks to obscure it, the true glory still manages to
shines through. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not
overcome it. During what other time of the year can you hear these words sung
so earnestly and passionately over the radio in a department store:
Son of God, love's
pure light
Radiant beams from
thy holy face
With the dawn of
redeeming grace,
Jesus, Lord at thy
birth
The Christmas story still
captivates people, because it taps into their deepest longing. It is the dear
desire of every nation, the truth that they know deep down and which in those
special moments of grace they allow to penetrate their heart. We all long to
see it because it is the announcement of reconciliation to guilty sinners, the
undying grace of God, that is ever green and always in season. We who worship
now at the manger in Bethlehem have seen his glory, the glory as of the
Father's only son, full of grace and truth.
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