Pope Benedict's Christmas Eve Sermon

Christmas Day has come and gone, and the Priest family Christmas (this year celebrated on New Year's Day but always delayed by our travels to visit other family members on the actual holiday) has also come and gone. But while we are still within the 12 Days of Christmas, I wanted to write again (as promised) and comment on the Pope's Christmas sermon.

I dimly recall watching some of the ceremonies when Pope Benedict was installed, and I suppose I heard thim then, but I don't recall being deeply affected by anything he may have said at the time. Then again, it was a service and a ceremony I was unfamiliar with. Christmas is another story, and this was the first time I'd watched the Christmas Eve Midnight Mass with "the new pope." There was also a new commentator--my wife and I joked that US Cardinal John P. Foley, who did the broadcast voiceover for 25 years, always sounded like he was covering a tennis match--and the poor guy had to try to make sense of the "shoving" incident early in the broadcast. Although Pope Benedict chose to do the ceremony two hours earlier, it was still broadcast the usual time, which was too late for my wife this year, so I ended up watching alone (which brought things back to the first times I'd watched it).

I've always enjoyed the international flavor of the service, and the camera work and editing (for someone who grew up watching Billy Graham Crusades as the ultimate experience in religious broadcasting, where all the cameramen could do was pan across the crowd or focus on the stadium flags flapping in the breeze, the Vatican offers a real treat to the eyes!) The Protestant part of me sometimes gets squeamish thinking of the oppulence and wondering how much of the lovely art and architecture of St. Peter's was purchased by misguided people purchasing indulgences, but for the most part I can buy the idea of trying to make a worship space look like heaven by using large dimensions, the best artists and the finest materials available. Heck, wasn't that what Solomon's temple was all about?

But I digress... As inspiring a person as John Paul II was, I don't recall ever being impressed by him as a speaker, or remembering any of his sermons I listened to. And it was the sermon that struck me the most this year.

The main point for me was the contrast Pope Benedict made between the shepherds and the wise men. While the shepherds lived close to Jesus, the wise men had to make "a long and arduous journey" to see and worship the Christ child. This physical distance he likened to spiritual distance; "there are simply and lowly souls who live very close to the Lord," but most of us "live our lives by our philosophies, amid wordly affairs and occupations that totally absorb us and are a great distance from the manger." God has already made a great journey from heaven to be born amongst us, but he still must push and prod most of us to get us to "go over to Bethlehem" and meet him where he has chose to reveal himself.

God wishes for us to come to him, but we must be receptive to his call. The shepherds were "watching"--they were awake and cognizant of the world around them. The wise men came from a pagan culture, and citing Origen (who evidently was citing John the Baptist "out of these stones God can raise children of Abraham" and the author of Psalm 135, who comments that those who make and worship gods of lifeless materials "shall become like them") he says "lacking feeling and reason, they are transformed into stones and wood." But God desires to give us hearts of flesh. He became like us in order to make us become like him. This was the "sign" given to the shepherds--God's humility expressed in the incarnation and seen in a "babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and laying in a manger."

So, we must be alive, we must be awake, and we must be attentive to the presence and calling of God. And repeatedly, Pope Benedict the liturgy (or "Liturgy") as being of prime importance, as "the work of God" and as a time when "the Lord himself is present in our midst," if only we had the grace to see.

Liturgy is something I need to explore this year--for some very practical reasons (at home I am preparing my daughter to begin receiving communion and at the church I am pulling together a Confirmation program for our yout)--but also for my own spiritual well being. So this sermon seemed especially appropriate for me as I kick off the new year.

One Holy Catholic Church at Christmas

Christmas 1984 I was surprised with a large Christmas bonus the last day of work before the holiday, which allowed me to greatly expand my Christmas shopping the last day or so before Christmas. That left me wrapping presents late on Christmas Eve, and, searching for something Christmasy on have on TV as I worked, I first ran across the Midnight Mass broadcast "live" from the Vatican ("Live" because midnight hit the Vatican quite a few hours earlier than it did Eastern Standard Time). I'd been raised largely ignorant of Roman Catholicism and Church History in general--judging from my Sunday school lessons there simply were no "real Christians" between John the Revelator and Martin Luther--and had only recently begun attending an Episcopal Church and getting comfortable with the idea of liturgy not being all "vain repetition" condemned by Jesus. So, I was surprised and intrigued to realize how much of the service sounded familiar (once translated) to what I was hearing and saying Sunday mornings.

Looking back on that now I think of my earlier self as laughably naive. Shortly afterwards one of my best friends (and the only one I can claim in any way to have had an influence on his conversion to Christianity) decided to return to the Catholic Church he'd been raised in (and had pretty fully rejected when I'd first met him in high school), and that--along with my own rediscovery of liturgy--caused me to begin a serious investigation of Catholicism. Some time later I was prompted to do some reading on the Orthodox church, and eventually at seminary I had to take a few courses in Church History (which my wife now teaches). Despite various frustrations with the Episcopal Church and Anglicanism in general, and despite seeing many of my friends from seminary depart for either Rome or Constantinople, I've never felt the need to move any further up the ecclesial family tree (or down towards the roots?) than Anglicanism, but I appreciate what I have and can learn from other traditions and their followers. As former Archbishop of Canterbury Michael Ramsey said (in a quote I read a couple days ago):

From the deeds of Jesus in the flesh, there springs a society which is one in its continuous life. Many kinds of fellowship in diverse places and manners are created by the Spirit of Jesus, but they all depend upon the one life. Thus each group of Christians will learn its utter dependence upon the whole Body. It will indeed be aware of its own immediate union with Christ, but it will see this experience as a part of the one life of the one family in every age and place.

--quoted from The Gospel and the Catholic Church (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock (1936/1990), 43-44.

All of that to say, I watched the Pope's sermon on Christmas Eve, and found it quite moving. Though, with an introduction this long, I now will have to wait for a future post to comment on what he had to say.

The Browniest Christmas

Charlie Brown: I think there must be something wrong with me, Linus. Christmas is coming, but I'm not happy. I don't feel the way I'm supposed to feel. I just don't understand Christmas, I guess. I like getting presents and sending Christmas cards and decorating trees and all that, but I'm still not happy. I always end up feeling depressed.

Linus Van Pelt: Charlie Brown, you're the only person I know who can take a wonderful season like Christmas and turn it into a problem. Maybe Lucy's right. Of all the Charlie Browns in the world, you're the Charlie Browniest.

The opening scene to A Charlie Brown Christmas keeps running through my head, and not only because my daughter watched it in a constantly-alternating pattern with greatly inferior sequel, It's Christmastime Again, Charlie Brown, for several weeks leading up to the holiday. I had a rather Charlie Brown-y Christmas this year, the Charlie Browniest in quite awhile.

From an early age I have identified with Charlie Brown, and the first TV specials are a touchstone to my childhood (though I admit I started losing interest somewhere between A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving and It's the Easter Beagle, Charlie Brown). The first portion of scripture I memorized was Linus' quotation in the Christmas special from Luke 2 (for one of my earliest attempts at being a director and staging a Christmas play), and much of my own artwork, and some of my sense of characters and dialog, were developed from copying Peanuts comics as a child.

But my problems with this Christmas are not Charlie Brown's. I'm not suffering from "pantophobia", and I certainly DON'T need more "involvement"! The commercialism of the season is not particularly vexing (any more than it has been since Charlie Brown first declared, "I won't let this commercial dog spoil MY Christmas"), and I don't need Linus to "tell me what Christmas is all about." I know all of that, at least in my head...

Charlie Brown's disappointment at not receiving Christmas cards gets more to my own feeling. I am missing people, and the human connection that I associate with the holiday season. In particular, I am missing my grandparents, around whom the holiday always revolved prior to their passing in 2003, one month apart, when my daughter was less than a year old. I don't think my family has yet figured out how to celebrate the day without them. John Irving writes in A Prayer for Owen Meany, "Christmas is our time to be aware of what we lack, of who's not home," and that rings very true.

Missing Grandma and Grandad as people is understandable, and even I suppose admirable in some ways, but the fact of the matter is I also miss their gifts. I never figured out exactly where they got their money from, but every Christmas (at least while they were able-bodied and capable of shopping) my grandparents would go all-out, and we could count on there being a mountain of presents beneath their tree. Being together as a family was good, but most of my youth and for periods of my adulthood we lived close enough that we did that pretty much on a weekly basis. The Christmas dinner was always good and a major part of the day, but really it was just a repeat of the Thanksgiving meal a month later. No, what made Christmas unique, as far as our family gathering was concerned, was the exchange of presents, the majority of them coming from my grandparents. Without them, and with the rest of us on fixed incomes or being underemployed, no one can afford to be Santa anymore, and when Christmas is mostly about presents, the death of Santa leaves a serious hole in the holiday.

I don't want or believe Christmas to be all about presents. There is much that I do by myself, with my wife and daughter, and with my church in worship and service that are clearly more focused on the spiritual reality of Christ's birth and the day that celebrates it. But getting together with my mother, sister and aunt, it is hard not to lapse into those expectations of Christmas Past when we could see how much we were loved by how much money someone spent on us. And it's hard not to want to do for my daughter what was done for me (wrapped in the haze of happy nostalgia as it is), even though I can now see the folly of it.

So, this is an area where my character needs development...

"I Just Want to Be a Sheep"

Tomorrow is our Christmas pageant, and once again I have been asked to direct (after the upper-level Sunday School class decided on a script and casting). And once again we have integrated the younger classes' performance of a traditional pageant into the larger production. Last year we had an odd detective/time travel piece, which involved the main character actually interviewing Mary and Joseph, but this year the older kids are doing an adaptation of Leo Tolstoy's story of the shoemaker who is told Jesus will visit him, only to have the Lord show up in the poor people he helps throughout the day. The pageant only happens in his mind as he reads the Gospel story, so there is no need for any of the biblical characters to speak.

One five-year-old girl in our church we knew had been pining for the role of Mary, and this situation made it possible for us to offer it to her. We were excited about it, her parents were excited about it, and we were certain she would be excited about it, but when her Dad told her she could be the mother of Jesus, she surprised him by saying, "I think I'd rather just be a sheep." She's since changed her mind and will be appearing as Mary tomorrow (if all goes well and stage-fright doesn't strike again), but it got me and my wife thinking, "What if Gabriel had gotten that response?"

"Hail, highly favored one! The Spirit of the Lord will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you, and the holy one to be born of you will be called the Son of God!"

"Nah, thanks anyways, but I think I'd rather just be a sheep!"

Since God knows the end from the beginning, and knows our response before he makes an offer, it seems unlikely he sent Gabriel to other girls, but if he had, how many would have turned him down? How many would have turned down the role of Theotokos just to keep their ordinary lives and forgo the attention, the notoriety, the misunderstanding and the sorrow of being the mother of Jesus.

She must have been a very special girl!

Milestone 7

Last night was the Christmas party and closing program for KidzLife, the elementary-aged children's outreach program I am in charge of at our church. This was the seventh semester we had run the program (and our fourth Christmas party), and things went incredibly smoothly, from the opening meal through the distribution of gift bags as the end. Praise be to God!

I was asked yesterday morning what lesson God had been teaching me in 2008, and without giving the question much thought I said, "Something to do with the fact that I'm not infinite; dealing with limits and allowing others to do what God has called them to do." Last night was a confirmation of that. I actually had little to do last night, other than act as M.C. and introduce various people who offered prayers, led the singing, reviewed the lessons and memory verses, and so forth. The biggest blessing to me, and I think to everyone there, was a presentation of the Christmas story using Godly Play, done by a young girl who is part of our leadership team. While some of the kids were acting up and some of the adults were talking during other parts of the night, she had the room's undivided attention as she introduced cut-out characters and placed them on the road to Bethlehem, and led us to "wonder" what it was like to be there the night that Christ was born.

On the down side, when we lined up the children to receive their gifts at the end, it was abundantly clear that our male attendance has dropped dramatically in this academic year. I know that we are now in competition with a Boy Scout troop that meets the same night, but I'm not sure what to do about that.

We start again on Shrove Tuesday, which is the last Tuesday in February this year. On the one hand, I don't like having that big of a gap between semesters, but on the other hand, we don't seem to be able to keep interest in the program beyond 15 weeks at a stretch, and I think we may need all of that time to prepare for the next session. I am feeling led to explore Daniel and Revelation with the kids (in very broad strokes), and to do the weekly dramas with puppets (which all need to be created from scratch!).