Christmas Sign

Christmas Eve, 7pm Service

Rev. Monte Marshall

 Luke 2:1-20

Take a look around.  Take a good look.  What do we see tonight?  The brilliant red of poinsettias, garlands of greenery, tiny lights on a big tree, Chrismons of white and gold, flickering candle light, exquisite figurines on the altar depicting the birth of Jesus, a table set for communion, the furnishings of a sanctuary, the trappings of worship, the faces of family and friends, and yes, even the faces of many we may not know at all. 

These are the visuals of Christmas, sights to be seen with our physical eyes.  For me, at least, the sights are beautiful and very familiar.  I’m 62 years old.  I’ve been celebrating Christmas every year for as long as I can remember.  So I’ve seen Christmas sights like these many, many times before.

But a question comes to mind:  Is there more here than meets the eye?  Now granted, for some of us, what we see is what we get.  We’ll just take the sights of this evening at face value.  We’ll appreciate the aesthetics, the warm feelings, the sentimentality, and leave it at that. 

But is there something more here than meets the eye?  Could it be that the sights surrounding us tonight are signs that point us to a deeper reality—a reality that we have to learn to see with the eyes of our hearts—with the eyes of faith—and not just with our physical eyes alone?

Consider the shepherds in Luke’s story of the birth of Jesus.  Imagine the scene.  The shepherds are living in the fields in the region around Bethlehem, keeping watch over their flock by night.  Their eyes are occupied, straining in the darkness to keep track of each and every sheep.  This, after all, is their job.

But then, the unexpected happens!  An angel of God appears to them, and the glory of God shines around them, and they are terrified:  “What’s happening here?  We’ve not seen this before!”  In their fear, I imagine them trying to hide their eyes so as not to see.   

The angel says to them: “You have nothing to fear!  I come to proclaim good news to you—news of a great joy to be shared by the whole people.  Today in David’s city, a savior—the Messiah—has been born to you.  Let this be a sign to you:  you’ll find an infant wrapped in a simple cloth, lying in a manger.” 

And then a heavenly chorus erupts in praise:  “Glory to God in high heaven, and on earth, peace to those on whom God’s favor rests!”  Now that’s a birth announcement!

Can we see what’s happening here?  In this story, the angel is teaching the shepherds how to see!  With their physical eyes the shepherds would only be able to see a baby “wrapped in a simple cloth, lying in a manger.”  Anyone passing by would see the same thing—just another baby—like any other baby.  Granted, it would be a little strange to see a newborn infant lying in a feeding trough—but other than that, it’s just another baby.  What you see is what you get.

But thanks to the angel, the shepherds are able to see something more.  The angel invites them to see the child as a sign pointing to a deeper reality.  The angel invites them to see more deeply—to look beyond that which meets the eye—to see the good news—the joy that has come for all people—a savior, the Messiah.  They’re invited to see with the eyes of faith—with the eyes of the heart.

And how do the shepherds respond?  “’Let’s go straight to Bethlehem and see this event that God has made known to us.’”  They don’t stop to think about it.  They don’t question what they’ve been told.  They just go—they hurry—to find the child. 

And they’re on their own.  The angels don’t go with them to show them the way.  The angels don’t give them a map or a GPS device.  Luke doesn’t even include a guiding star to help them!  All the shepherds have to go on is the sign:  “an infant wrapped in a simple cloth, lying in a manger.” 

So imagine the shepherds searching the crowded streets of Bethlehem with the eyes in their heads, and the eyes of their hearts, open wide.  They seek and then they find—“Mary and Joseph and the child lying in a manger.”  And they see, not just a baby, but a sign—a Savior—God’s Messiah. 

And so they tell their story.  All who hear it are amazed.  Even Mary treasures their words and ponders them in her heart.  And then the shepherds return to the fields and their flock “glorifying and praising God for all they [have] heard and seen, just as they had been told.”  These shepherds become like angels in their praise because they have learned to see—and to see deeply. 

So how is it with us?  Have we learned to see deeply?  Have we learned to read the Christmas signs?  When we place ourselves in the story and the angels appear to us, what do we see?  When the angels speak to us, what do we hear?  Do we see and hear enough for us to find the Christ child for ourselves?  And when we find him and look into his face, what do we see—a Savior—God’s Messiah—or just another baby? 

Well, if we see a Savior—then we’re learning to read the signs and to see deeply.  And it’s then that amazing things begin to happen.  To borrow a phrase from Meister Eckhart, we discover our capacity to “seize God in all things.”[1]  We start looking for signs of the holy, not just in a manger in Bethlehem, but in a sanctuary on Christmas Eve, and in every other place where we find ourselves in life, and in the most simple and ordinary things of life.

An example:  In 1994, I was unemployed for 3 ½ months.  I had taken a leave of absence from my pastoral responsibilities and was looking for work.  We were living in Austin.  There were four of us in our family:  my wife, Laura Jean, and I, and our two boys.  Brian was 13 years old, and James was 6.  Thankfully, Laura Jean was bringing in a modest income from her job at a Hallmark Gift Shop in north Austin, but money was tight.  It was an anxious time.

At the end of the second month, we found ourselves about $200 short of being able to pay our rent.  A day or two before the rent was due, an envelope arrived in the mail from two friends, Joe and Anne Ader.  Joe was a retired United Methodist pastor.  When I opened the envelope, I found a handwritten note from Anne.  She said in the note that she had been thinking about us and that she had a strong sense that we had a financial need.  So along with the note, she included in the envelope, a check made payable to Laura Jean and Monte Marshall in the amount of $200.

As I looked at what I held in my hands, I saw a note on a piece of paper, and a check.  But for me, there was so much more there than met the eye.  Both the note and the check were to me, signs of a deeper reality, pointing not only to Joe and Anne Ader’s love and care for us, but to God’s love and care for us. 

Through such experiences, I’m learning to see differently and more deeply so that now, every time I see a baby, I see a sign of God’s love and presence with us.  Every time I see an act of love, or kindness, or compassion, or I see someone extend forgiveness to another, or I see someone act for justice and peace, I know that I’m seeing a sign that points to God’s presence and God’s work among us.  In other words, there is more going on in each of these circumstances than that which meets the eye. 

On this Christmas Eve, I thank God for the stories of our faith—and especially for the signs of Christmas—that have taught me over the past 62 years, to see more deeply.        

            So take another look around tonight.  Take a good look.  What do we see?  There are beautiful sights to behold, no doubt.  But is there more here than meets the eye?  Can we see the Savior?  Look deeply.  See the signs.  God is with us.  Thanks be to God!    Amen.