CHRISTMAS MASS AT MIDNIGHT December 24-25, 2009 Reflections on Isaiah 62:11-12 Psalm 97:1,6,11-12 Titus 3:4-7 Luke 2:15-20 by Patricia Coughlin, O.S.B, D.Min.

How many of us really listened to the story we just heard, really listened to it? It’s not an easy thing to do because it’s so filtered in our minds and imagination by the creches we’ve seen, the pageants we’ve attended, the TV specials we’ve seen, the paintings we’ve studied. All of this enriches the story for us, adds warmth and color and meaning and, perhaps, sentimentality.

This story is not sentimental; it is powerful, challenging. It’s political. Scholars point out its inaccuracies: a stable is not mentioned by either Luke or Matthew; the manger is a reference to a verse in Isaiah which speaks of an ox, an ass, and a manger. There never was a worldwide census ordered by Caesar Augustus and, during the ones he did order, people who traveled away from their current place of residence were punished. People like the New Atheists take these things as proof that the story is not true, but others like Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan claim that the infancy stories about Jesus are parables; they reveal a truth deeper than fact and have a reversal that upsets expectations.

Our first reading, from Isaiah, is actually an oracle from a liturgy celebrating the coronation of a new king. A new regime brings hope and promise of better things to come, a new era (similar to what happened last year in November) and what better symbol of that than a newborn child. Isaiah is describing the ideal king who has the wisdom of Solomon and the power of David who brings freedom and peace to the people. He hearkens back to a time when Gideon crushed the army of the Midianites who threatened his people, bringing peace and freedom to them.

Crossan says that if you asked most people in the Mediterranean world at the time of Jesus’ birth who the Lord, Savior, and Bringer of Peace was, it was a no-brainer. Augustus Caesar, of course. Caesar had brought peace and order to the known world through conquest of just about everyone in that world and kept the peace through good administration of the conquered territory. And in that ancient time, a person who made a huge contribution to the world was regarded as a god. That person was supplied with a mythology that went along with divinity, including a miraculous birth story. And so it was with Augustus Caesar.

Luke (and Matthew too) wanted to proclaim that Jesus had come into the world to bring a new era of peace that was much more profound than the era brought about by Caesar. And what better way to get through to the people of his time than a birth story even more spectacular than Caesar’s because the birth of Jesus inaugurates a stunning new era of peace in human history, an era greater than Caesar’s. It is the hinge between B.C. and A.D. And who understands the great news first? Dangerous strangers, outsiders. Shepherds in Luke’s account and Persian magicians in Matthew’s. We know that shepherds were not among society’s elite. In Jesus time they were dirty; they slept in the fields with their animals; they were uncouth and uncivilized; often they were criminals. But, like King David the shepherd, they were brave and strong in defending their animals and themselves. The Magi were astrologers from Iran, expert in reading the stars deeply and in manipulating the fate they saw there. Their pagan ideas about the forces that rule the world were, of course, against the Jewish belief in an all-powerful God, but the Magi would have had the wisdom of Solomon which enabled them to recognize and give homage to Jesus.

As the rest of Luke’s gospel attests, Jesus has come into the world to embody the Peaceable Kingdom, the Kingdom of God. Unlike Caesar’s peace which was achieved through violent force, the reign of Jesus is one in which peace is brought about by non-violent justice.

As Borg and Crossan note, peace achieved through violence is not really peace. It’s only a lull in the hostilities. Sooner or later the shame and rage of the defeated will bring about another round of violence worse than the first as current history reminds us every day.

We all know this in our own lives as well as watching it on the world stage. When we oppress and banish sides of ourselves as too contemptible or strange they have a way of making trouble in our lives that banishes our peace and the peace of those around us. When we treat others as weird or worthless, we sow the seeds of further violence.

The celebration of Christmas gives us an opportunity to remember that we need to make a choice: Do we believe that peace on earth comes from the way of Caesar or the way of Christ? Do we think that it comes through violent victory or non-violent justice? It is a choice about how to live personally, nationally and internationally. Do we choose the Kingdom of God even though we will backslide and get sucked back into the Kingdom of Caesar from time to time. But then we’ll have next Advent and Christmas and Lent and Easter to call us back.

The English Poet, Ursula Askham Fanthorpe wrote a poem called BC/AD which expresses a bit of the significance of the Birth of Jesus Christ by calling it the moment when Before Turned into After. I’m not sure how relevant to these reflections it is, but I like it.

This was the moment when Before
Turned into After, and the future’s
Uninvented timekeepers presented arms.

This was the moment when nothing
Happened. Only dull peace
Sprawled boringly over the earth.

This was the moment when even energetic Romans
Could find nothing better to do
Than counting heads in remote provinces.

And this was the moment
When a few farm workers and three
Members of an obscure Persian sect
Walked haphazardly by starlight straight
Into the Kingdom of God.

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