In the City of David (Luke 2:1-10)

 Throughout Advent, we’ve been “On the way to Bethlehem.” Today, we finally made it. We’ve arrived. We’re in Bethlehem, the city of David. 

It’s not much of a city, really. It’s more of a town, or village. Not much bigger than Nazareth, at the time of Jesus’ birth. 

But there is one important difference between Bethlehem and Nazareth: Bethlehem is the city of David…

David, the most revered king in Israel’s history. David, who united Israel and Judah. David, who is remembered as establishing justice and maintaining freedom.

So unlike Nazareth, Bethlehem had a historical and symbolic significance, even if it was just a little town.

And people had heard of Bethlehem. It was small, but it was not insignificant. It was… the city of David.

Today we hear the story of Christ’s birth as presented in Luke’s gospel. It takes place in Bethlehem, the city of David. It takes place when the Israelites long for a king like David. 

Currently, they are under Roman rule. Their rights are limited. The fear and threat of Roman harassment is constant. And much of their income is taxed, and sent to Rome, for the maintenance of the empire.

You may recall that that’s what this whole census business is all about. Caesar wants to count all the people—and all the livestock, too—to know who and what he could tax, how much money he could extract. He wanted every last coin.

The Roman government is not “of the people, by the people, for the people.” The Roman government is all about using the people, and taking from them as much wealth as possible, for the sake of those at the top of the pyramid: the powerful and the wealthy.

Everyone else suffered the oppression of living in an Empire that only answered to those at the top.

Which is why the people long for a new king like David. It’s why they maintain hope that God will send a messiah, in the line of David, to restore their nation and bring peace—true peace, a peace without fear or intimidation. 

And it’s why, according to Luke, Jesus was born in Bethlehem, the city of David.

If this were a movie, and Luke the director, the camera would start with a view of the room or stable, dimly lit, with Mary and Joseph and the animals; and then the camera would slowly zoom in, until all we see is the manger, with the baby Jesus lying there, wrapped in bands of cloth.

But then the camera would zoom back out. We’d see the whole room, and then the exterior of the building. (Some think the manger was in a cave, but I think it was a room used for animals on the side of a house or across the courtyard from the house.)

The camera would zoom back further still, until we see the neighboring buildings, and then the whole village, dimly lit by a few lamps scattered about, beneath a starry sky.

Then the camera would begin zooming in again, but not on the village. The camera is now bringing us closer to something in the darkness outside the village, something we can’t quite see. 

It looks like we’re heading into the countryside out beyond the town’s edge. It’s very hard to make out what’s there, in the darkness, but finally, we’re able to discern shadowy figures. Shepherds! They’re murmuring, whispering; and a few soft, “baas” let us know that their sheep are nearby.

The shepherds are grateful for the darkness. And the quiet. It gives them cover, and helps them avoid harassment.

Shepherds often face harassment, or worse, because they don’t have land of their own. They take their sheep, and wander over land owned by others, moving from place to place, searching for good pasture for their flocks.

The landowners resent this. They often chase the shepherds off their land, or they summon Roman soldiers to chase the shepherds off their land…

They do this, even though shepherds are what we would call “essential workers.”  Even the landowners who despise the shepherds rely on them. They rely on the shepherds for sheep, for wool, for food…for so many things they need.

 But just because they depend on the shepherds doesn’t mean they respect the shepherds, or that they offer them any dignity or respect. The shepherds are looked down upon. Despised. And poorly treated.

So the shepherds like the night. They like the darkness. And, they like the quiet. It all helps them remain unnoticed, and if they can avoid notice, maybe they can avoid harassment.

But tonight… tonight, the quiet murmuring of this group of shepherds is interrupted. As this group of shepherds, just outside of Bethlehem, keeps watch over their silent flocks, at night, in the dark… suddenly, throughout the heavens, there shines a holy light. And an angel chorus rings out: a multitude of the heavenly host, singing: “Glory to God in the highest!”

Which means that, all of a sudden, there is a lot of noise, and a lot of light! Which leaves the shepherds afraid and terrified. Afraid of attracting the unwanted attention of landowners and soldiers and others who might want to harass them… but even more afraid of this awesome spectacle before them; this supernatural display of light and sound and glory and power!

But the angel—the first one they see—says to them: “Do not be afraid… Do not be afraid! for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. 

“This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.”

And before they leave, the angels also proclaim a message of “peace on earth; peace to those on whom God’s favor rests.”

And the shepherds know that the peace the angels talk about is real peace, not the uneasy peace of Rome. Even with the peace of Rome, one is always afraid of hearing the sound of soldiers’ footsteps, heading your way. You’d hear a sound in the night, and wake with a start, your heart racing, until you were sure that it was just an animal, and not soldiers marching.

But this peace, the peace the angels are talking about—this is real peace; and this is good news. 

It means no more fearing the sounds at night. It means no more harassment during the day. It’s a peace that allows you to sleep undisturbed at night and laugh with joy during the day.

That peace washes over the shepherds. That peace washes over them when the angels appear and proclaim their message, and that peace fills them when they go and see the newborn baby with their own eyes; when they see him, wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger, just as the angels said.

And when they return to their sheep, they rejoice, and they praise and glorify God as they go. They’re not so worried about being quiet and hidden in the shadows now. 

Yes, the soldiers are still out there, and yes, the soldiers still have the power to harass them, but now the shepherds know that God is on their side, that God is on the side of all those who are oppressed, despised, looked down upon; God is on the side of all those who have been abused, forgotten, or exploited; God is on the side of all those who grieve or who are in despair.

As the prophet wrote: “There is no gloom for those who were in anguish. The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined.”

We are not afraid of the light. And we’re not afraid of the dark, either. Because God is on our side. 

When we are faithful, when we live according to what Jesus taught…

When we proclaim good news to the poor, release to the captives, sight to the blind, freedom to the oppressed…

When we love all people, without exception…when we refuse to commit acts of violence, or speak words of violence…

When we give food to those who are hungry, and water to those who are thirsty; when we welcome strangers; when we clothe the naked, care for the sick, and visit those in need of companionship…

Basically, when we love and care for all those who are vulnerable in our world, just as Jesus was vulnerable when he was born to Mary and Joseph…

Then we need not fear, for God is on our side, and we are on God’s side.

We will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea; though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble with its tumult…

We will not fear.

When the nations are in an uproar, and kingdoms totter…

We will not fear

For God is with us. God is with the vulnerable. God is with those who are poor. God is with those who mourn. God is with the meek. God is with those who hunger and thirst for what is right. God is with those who show mercy. God is with those who are pure in heart. God is with those who work on behalf of peace in this world.

God is with those who fear the darkness, or who fear the light, or who fear armies and empires.

And this, we know, because God came to earth not with the power to oppress or cause harm, but with all the vulnerability and weakness and innocence of a newborn child. 

If we weren’t so familiar with this story, it would blow our minds. A baby, weak and vulnerable and defenseless, is God’s secret weapon, God’s secret power.

Because in God’s kingdom, power is found in weakness. Greatness is found in humility. And the strength to overcome is found in love.

Nothing in this world is greater, or more powerful, than love. Nothing outlasts love.

Love is with us. Always has been. Always will be.

And that is why we light our candles at this darkest time of year, and why we sing angel choruses on silent nights: 

Because in this world of darkness, there is light. And in this world of sadness, there is joy. In this world of ugliness, there is beauty. In this world of hate, there is love.

And it’s all because of Jesus, the savior, who is the messiah, born this day in the city of David.

A Place No One's Heard Of (Luke 1:26-38)

 If you were to tell me that you were going to Chicago, that’s all you’d need to say. Everyone knows about Chicago. 

You don’t need to clarify that Chicago is a city in Illinois. You don’t need to say, “I’m going to a city in Illinois called Chicago.” Everyone knows that Chicago is a city in Illinois. You just say, “Chicago,” and that’s enough. It’s even on the freeway signs.

On the other hand, if you were going to Dieterich…

Some of you know that Walter Scott Camp and Learning Center—the camp that we at First Christian Church, along with the other congregations of our region, own and operate—is located in Dieterich, at least according to its official mailing address.

But if you told someone you were going to Dieterich, they might wonder: “Dieterich? Where is Dieterich? I’ve never heard of Dieterich.” 

Because Dieterich is a very small town. It has less than 1,000 people. So, instead of just saying “Dieterich,” it would be helpful if you gave that a little context. For example, instead of just saying, “I’m going to Dieterich,” It might be better to say, “I’m going to a small town in southern Illinois called Dieterich.”

And that helps the person you’re talking to have a little better idea of just where Dieterich is.

That’s how Luke introduces the town of Nazareth. Luke doesn’t expect anyone to have heard of Nazareth, or know where it is. 

So, Luke says that the angel Gabriel was sent to a town in Galilee called Nazareth.

Luke doesn’t just say Nazareth, because that would lead to blank stares and a shrugging of shoulders. Nazareth was not a place many had heard of.

Luke doesn’t do this for Jerusalem; when Luke mentions Jerusalem, he just says, Jerusalem. Everybody knows about Jerusalem. Luke doesn’t need to say “a city in Judea called Jerusalem.”

But Nazareth? Not many people knew about Nazareth.

And for those who were waiting for the arrival of God’s messiah, few would have looked to Nazareth as the place from which he would come.

For the people who lived in Jerusalem and the area around Jerusalem, even if they had heard of Nazareth, there’s no way they would have expected Nazareth to be the hometown of the messiah. 

Jews in Judea, the region where Jerusalem is located, thought of Jews in Galilee as not quite as good. Galilean Jews were lower-class, 2nd rate Jews.

Those Galilean Jews—they didn’t follow all the right customs that Jews were supposed to follow. They intermarried with non-Jews. Some of them weren’t even circumcised, for cryin’ out loud!

And they were always stirring up trouble. Like those zealots in Sepphoris, a city just a few miles away from Nazareth. They started a little rebellion a few years before Jesus was born, but Roman troops not only destroyed that resistance movement; those troops destroyed the city itself. Just leveled it to the ground.

Which may actually be why Joseph was living in Nazareth. Joseph was a carpenter, and I can only assume that carpenters were in demand as Sepphoris began rebuilding itself after its destruction.

Had Joseph always lived in Nazareth? I don’t know. We know from today’s Bible story that his family’s roots were in Bethlehem, so at some point, Joseph, or one of his ancestors, made the move from Bethlehem to Nazareth. 

Which isn’t a move that many people would want to make, because, well, it’s Nazareth. 

My guess is that the opportunity for employment is what caused Joseph or someone in a previous generation of Joseph’s family to make that move. 

But, you know, in this season of Hallmark Christmas specials, I do sometimes imagine that maybe it happened a little differently. Maybe Joseph is still living in Bethlehem when, one day, he goes to the temple in Jerusalem during a festival. There, he bumps into this beautiful girl from Nazareth, and their coins spill on the ground, and as they both bend down to pick them up, their eyes meet…

And the next day, Joseph says to his friends and family, “I’m moving to Nazareth!”

And his friends say, “Where?”

And Joseph says, “Nazareth… it’s a town in Galilee.” 

And they say: “Why?”

And Joseph says: “I know… Galilee… but what can I say? Love makes you do crazy things…”

And off he goes.

OK. That’s probably not how it happened. I don’t know how or why or when Joseph’s family made the move to Nazareth. (It could have been many generations before Joseph.) I just know that Nazareth was a town that few people took notice of, and if they did take notice of it, it was neither positive nor favorable.

The same could be said about Joseph and Mary. Few people took notice of them. They were a poor couple, insignificant in so many ways. Outside of Nazareth, no one knew who they were, and if they did, they wouldn’t think much of them.

They were Galileans, after all. Poor Galieans. Even if there was plenty of work for a carpenter like Joseph, carpenters made miniscule wages. 

And if Mary’s family agreed to let her marry him, she must have been just as low, if not lower. Maybe she was “damaged goods,” as some would say; as some scholars I’ve read have suggested. Maybe she was victimized by Roman soldiers, as so many young women were in those days. Maybe, among the people at least, there was some question as to her “virtue.” Why else would she—or her family—choose a low-life like Joseph for her future husband, no matter how good or decent a man he was?

Or maybe Mary didn’t even have a family. They aren’t mentioned, other than her distant relative Elizabeth.

This is all speculation. However it came about, it’s clear that Joseph and Mary were poor nobodies living in a poor town no one cared about or had ever heard of or expected anything good from. 

When I moved here to Bloomington a year ago, a lot of people here in Illinois said to me things like: “Why would you move here from California, especially at the start of winter?” 

But I think also implied in that question was the idea that California is an important place, a place where things happen. Especially southern California. 

Celebrities live in southern California, and yes, I’ve seen a few, at restaurants, at amusement parks, even in the pews of my church. 

Such encounters are less likely, now that I live here in central Illinois. 

Maybe that’s why some of the people I’ve met, who live here in Bloomington, rank this area as less important, less desirable, than a place like southern California.

Maybe they even think that God pays more attention to a place like Los Angeles than to a place like Bloomington; or that God pays more attention to a place like Washington, or a place like Rome, than to a place like Bloomington. 

I think if you were to ask people where Jesus would be born if he were to be born today, I think a lot of people would choose someplace more important. Someplace like Washington. Or Rome. Or Jerusalem.

“Jesus would appear where the powerful are located. If he’s going to change the world, he’s got to be where the powerful people are.”

But if that’s true, then why wasn’t he just born in Jerusalem to begin with? Why Bethlehem as the place of his birth? Why Nazareth as his hometown?

Of all the places God could have picked for Jesus to grow up… God picked Nazareth. Maybe God saw something in Nazareth no one else saw. What, I don’t know. Maybe a combination of goodness and humility. Maybe God liked the diversity of people there, a unique blend of Jewish, Greek, and Roman. Maybe it was something else, something God alone could see.

It makes me wonder how much better we’d feel about the places we come from, if we could see those places through God’s eyes.

It makes me wonder how much better we’d feel about ourselves, if we could see ourselves through God’s eyes.

We tend to be hard on ourselves. We doubt our own abilities. We think of ourselves, and wonder: “what good could I do?”

Not too long ago a congregation that I think very highly of called a friend of mine who I think very highly of to be their new pastor, and I thought: what a perfect match!

I was so happy, both for him and the church. This friend of mine, who I admire, who inspires me, who makes me want to be a better pastor myself.

But as he was about to begin his ministry there, he told me that he was dealing with imposter syndrome. He was doubting whether he was really up to the task, or whether he was the right person.

And I was shocked, because I couldn’t think of anyone who was better suited for that congregation than him!

How often do we doubt ourselves and our abilities… even when others see what we’re capable of, and see the beauty in us, and tell us… Even then, we still have doubts.

I wonder if Mary felt that same sense of self-doubt. It seems she did at first. The scripture says she was perplexed, and that she then asked, “How can this be?” As in, “I think you might have the wrong person.”

It’s so hard to imagine that God would take notice of us. God, who created the earth and the heavens, who set the stars in place… takes notice of a girl from a town in Galilee called—what was it again?---oh, Nazareth.

God, ruler of the nations, takes notice of us, the people of First Christian Church in Bloomington, Illinois… a long way from more places like Washington, or Rome, or Jerusalem.

Can that possibly be true?

God, the one who was and is and is to come, takes notice of you.

Yes, you.

God has given you unique talents and gifts and abilities in a combination that doesn’t exist in any other human. 

In Isaiah 43, God says: “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name…” Whether you are well-known, like Jerusalem or Chicago, or mostly unknown, like Dieterich or Nazareth, God knows your name. “I have called you by name [God says]; you are mine…you are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you.”

That’s why God came to be with us, at Christmas, in the form of Jesus: to let us know how much God loves us.

And maybe the reason Jesus was born in Bethlehem, to a couple from Nazareth, is to show that no place—and no person—is too insignificant for God to notice. 

In scripture, so many of those called by God to do big, important things, come from the most humble of beginnings. Many of them doubt their own abilities, and some even insist that God chose the wrong person. And none of them is perfect; they all have flaws. 

Yet God called them anyway.

And God calls you. 

This world needs you. This world needs what you and only you have to offer. There are holes in this world only you can fill. There is sadness in this world that only you can comfort. There is joy in this world that only you can celebrate.

In fact, when it comes to Christmas gifts, YOU are the best gift that you can give. Give of yourself, give love, give kindness—even a small act of kindness can make a big impact in someone’s life.

It may seem unlikely to you, that God would notice you, choose you; but if God looked with favor on Mary and Joseph, a poor, young, not-yet-married couple from an obscure town in Galilee called Nazareth, then surely God can, and does, look with favor upon you. God has blessed you, and God has made you a blessing to others.

Noise and Silence (Luke 1:5-25)

 In the sanctuary of the Lord, it was relatively quiet, but Zechariah could still hear noise from the courtyard outside, echoing around him: the clamor of the crowds; the squawking and baaing of the animals; the soldiers’ footsteps, marching; and the musicians’ instruments.

Suddenly, right there inside the sanctuary of the Lord, Zechariah heard a loud and present noise. It was the angel of the Lord, and its voice overpowered all the sounds from outside.

We think of angels as being soft-spoken, but angels were God’s warriors and messengers. When they spoke, they spoke with POWER—enough power, that those to whom the angels spoke often shook in terror.

So I’m not surprised that, when the angel appeared to Zechariah, it was enough to make Zechariah forget all the stories that he had studied all his life: the story of Abraham and Sarah, for example; and the story of Jacob and Rachel; and the story of Elkanah and Hannah. 

All those couples who, like him and Elizabeth, were childless well into their old age, yet who did eventually bear children through the miraculous power of God. 

When the angel told Zechariah that he and Elizabeth would become parents, just like those other couples, Zechariah couldn’t believe it. “How will I know that this is so?” he asked. In other words: “Prove it.”

How quickly he forgot what God is capable of!

So the angel silenced Zechariah. The angel decided that it was time for a little less noise, at least from Zechariah. At least for a while.

And when Zechariah came out of the temple, he could not speak.

I don’t blame Zechariah. When there’s too much going on, too much noise, too much commotion, and too many thoughts for my brain to keep track of, I also forget things that I should have remembered. Sometimes there’s just too much input. Sometimes, I just need a little peace and quiet, to sort things out.

So I don’t blame Zechariah; and I don’t really think of Zechariah’s forced silence as a punishment. I think of it as an opportunity—an invitation—to dwell in the silence, to ponder, to wonder, to become aware.

It could be that I’m reading too much of my own situation into the gospel story. The Advent and Christmas season is a noisy time of year. There’s more noise, more activity, more commotion… and moments of peace and quiet can be hard to come by.

I wouldn’t want things to be quiet all the time. To everything there is a season; a time for laughter and a time for crying, a time for singing and a time for dancing, a time for speaking, and a time for keeping silent.

…At this time of year, it’s the times of silence that are in too short of supply.

Zechariah’s silence allowed him—and it allows us—to hear more clearly the voices of Elizabeth and Mary. With that male voice silenced, we get to better hear the voices of the women. 

This happens a lot in Luke. Women are prominent among Jesus’ followers. Women are the first to proclaim the good news of Christ’s resurrection. Women are disciples and apostles. 

Luke presents the gospel in such a way that women—and other marginalized voices—can be heard.

Even if it means silencing the male voice for a while.

I hope you can find some silence amidst all the noise of Christmas. Put on a coat and go for a walk, look at your neighbors’ Christmas decorations... Or, grab your favorite hot beverage and sip it in quiet contemplation—or while listening to some soft, instrumental music. 

And maybe read the first few chapters of Luke’s gospel, pausing over each scene, each verse, because there’s far more there than we’ll get to hear in worship.

And in those quiet moments, think back to Zechariah, and Elizabeth; and the noise of Jerusalem; and the relative quiet of their home in the hill country just outside of the city… 

Imagine their joy when Elizabeth confirms that she is, indeed, pregnant, just as the angel said.

Imagine their excitement when they see Elizabeth’s relative Mary making her way on the road toward their home in the Judean hills, and behold Elizabeth’s surprise when the baby in her womb leaps in greeting to the baby in Mary’s womb.

In your moments of quiet, think on these things. Think on the despair and the gloom and the hope and the anticipation that existed 2,000 years ago, and which exists today, as we look toward the coming birth of Christ, who brings peace to the world, peace to the hearts of all those who look to him.