STAR STRUCK
The Rev. J. Donald Waring
Grace Church in New York
Christmas 2011
And the angel said unto them, “Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. (Luke 2:10-11)
Those of you who are visiting with us tonight can only imagine the scaffolding we have endured this past year. Indeed, just a few weeks ago a large, tented construction zone protruded all the way out to these movable chairs in the nave, like an abominable snowman threatening to steal Christmas. So in those days there went out a decree saying: “Enough already!” We need the chancel back” “Fear not,” said our facilities manager. “Come the Christmas pageant Mary will bring forth her first born son, wrap him in swaddling clothes, and lay him in a manger, exactly where she does every year.” And so it was that the days were accomplished that these things were delivered – on time and slightly under budget. Even the choir is back from their exile in the south transept. And the star screen – the star screen that normally serves as a backdrop for the pageant also makes a nice reredos for our makeshift altar. What is more, the star screen may help us think anew about the great mystery of the Incarnation. Put another way, let’s go out for a bit of star gazing with the Wise Men. Perhaps, by God’s grace, we will be star struck as were they.
Earlier this month, not long before we were putting up the star screen for Christmas, the National Aeronautics and Space Administration – otherwise known as NASA – issued a startling announcement. What they believe they have seen in deep space is an earth-like planet in orbit around a sun not unlike our own. They have named the planet Kepler 22b, and released an artist’s conception of it, complete with oceans, clouds, and land masses. The most noteworthy thing about this distant world is that it orbits its sun in what scientists call the habitable zone. If a planet orbits too far away from its sun, or too close to it, then liquid water, moderate temperatures, an atmosphere, and life as we understand it cannot exist. But Kepler 22b is in just the right orbit, as is our Earth. In other words, it is entirely possible that life exists there, as it does here.
What shall we do? Shall we send a probe? Shall we beam them a Merry Christmas? Don’t bother. Kepler 22b is 600 light years from here. What we see of it is long ago and far away, which are two sides of the same coin when you are looking into deep space. If you paid attention in your high school physics class, then you know that any view we have of a star 600 light years away is not how it appears today, but how it appeared 600 years ago. Why? Because it takes the light of the star 600 years to get here. Think about it this way: if life does exist on Kepler 22b, and they are looking at us right now, what they see is Earth in the year 1411. Confused? So am I. It’s not that I failed high school physics. I just failed to take it altogether.
Tonight, on Christmas Eve, we too train our sights on something that is long ago and far away. Of course, I refer to the birth of Jesus some two thousand years ago, some six thousand miles away. But what we see as we fix our gaze on that distant world causes us to rejoice, and issue our own startling announcement. What do we see? What have we discovered? John the Gospel writer called it light and life. It is the light that shines in the darkness. The darkness can’t comprehend it, and the darkness can’t put it out. It is the light and life of God. What we see in the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the King is that God became one of us. God assumed human nature. The Word which was with God from the beginning, and was God from before time and forever, became flesh and dwelt among us. The maker of all things visible and invisible became a child on Earth for you and me. This is what we call the Incarnation. Star struck should be the least of our reactions.
Understand the magnitude of what we are really talking about at Christmas. If the star screen behind the altar were to represent the whole visible universe, the great distance between Earth and Kepler 22b would not be even the width of a hair. But the star screen has its upper limits, so beyond the edges of the universe is the big blue timeless realm of heaven, where God dwells in light inaccessible. Yet God who is Spirit, steps down from the heights of his transcendent otherness, moves into the time and space he has created, finds the little speck of dust that is Earth, and looks on the world with infinite love. Thus God calls us into being for himself. God calls Israel to be his people. God speaks his Word through the prophets. And above all the Word of God becomes flesh in Jesus. Jesus walks the earth, and prepares for us a table in the wilderness, offering his perfect presence through bread and wine, and his very life on the cross. So the light and life of God that we see born into this world at Christmas is not only long ago and far away. Rather, God emerges into each and every now as a gift for you and me to receive. The Incarnation is both cosmic and personal. This week I read a popular quote making the rounds that I think says it well: “Christmas began in the heart of God. It is complete only when it reaches the heart of man.”
We could stop right there tonight. We could point to the star screen with the table and the cross emerging from it and declare that here we see the true meaning of Christmas. But many will say – and rightly so – “wait just a minute; not so fast.” How do we see the Incarnation in the birth of Jesus? What is the evidence for such a precise measurement of something that happened long ago and far away? How do theologians back up the enormous claim that God became one of us in Jesus?
If you were to ask the scientific community how they back up the claims they make about the light and life of Kepler 22b, they will tell you about the Kepler Spacecraft that NASA launched in 2009. The Kepler Spacecraft is actually a powerful telescope with a mission to survey a portion of the Milky Way for other Earth-like planets orbiting other stars. Without such a lens placed in the heavens, we would never be able to detect that anything in orbit around a star 600 light years away exists at all. Even with the lens the scientists still cannot see Kepler 22b. What they see is only a shadow – a dip in the brightness of the star Kepler 22 – indicating that an object is crossing the distant sun’s face. If the same shadow passes three times at regular intervals, the conclusion is that it’s a planet in orbit. From there the observers measure what type of orbit it is, and speculate whether or not the planet might be able to sustain life.
So that’s how the scientists do it. What about the theologians? How do we see the Incarnation? We too have a lens through which we look at the birth of Jesus. What I am about to say next might sound a bit out of place on Christmas Eve, but here goes: the lens is Easter. We look at Christmas through the lens of Easter. Let me put it this way: trying to see the Incarnation without looking through the lens of Easter is like trying to see Kepler 22b without a telescope. You can’t do it. You wouldn’t even bother to try. No Gospel writer would have bothered writing about the life of Christ had Jesus not been fully and substantially alive again just a few days after he was dead. None of Jesus’ disciples or contemporaries would have remembered him with the intensity they did had has life story ended with his death. Paul the Apostle would have remained Saul of Tarsus, and never would have written the letters he did had he not encountered the risen Jesus alive and giving him power to become a child of God. But once the lens of resurrection was in place, Paul would write of Jesus: Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father (Philippians 2:9-11). The risen Jesus was no passing shadow. They beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father.
Matthew and Luke, with the lens of resurrection in place, would then attempt to give artistic rendering to what the birth of such a One must have been like. Enter the shepherds keeping watch over their flocks, and seeing a multitude of heavenly angels singing Glory to God in the Highest. Cue up the three Wise Men following a star. Of course they were following a star! Go ahead and add some camels and friendly beasts. Bring on the little drummer boy. Bring your torches Jeanette, Isabella. Make it a cold winter night. Let the whole pageant cast give color to the great mystery of the Incarnation. We don’t stake any truth claims on who, exactly, peered into the crib of the infant Jesus. Rather, what we mean to say through them is that it was no ordinary day when Jesus was born. Heaven and earth were joined in him. God became one of us.
Why? Why did God become one of us? Even with the lens of resurrection in place Christians have found many different ways to articulate the meaning of the Incarnation. Most often we hear Jesus described as the Savior. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord, declared the angel. Christmas carols also sing of salvation: Christ was born to save; Christ the Savior is born; Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas Day. All of this speaks the truth. But the star screen again is giving me a different slant this year on what it means to be saved. To be in need of salvation is to be lost. It is to be unknown, unloved, unrecognized. For the human race, it is to be alone in all the vast times and spaces of the universe. Conversely, to be saved is to be found. It is to be known and loved. It is to be seen, and spoken to, and acknowledged by the other – not by an echo of our own voice, not by a reflection in the mirror – but someone truly other.
When I was 14 my family moved from the New York metropolitan area to Sioux Falls, SD. Sioux Falls turned out to be great place to live with many wonderful people, but I could never quite shake the fear that no one knew we were out there. The notion was illogical, it was east coast elitist, but there it was. One day soon after moving my parents took us to see the movie Ice Castles, which was playing in the theaters at the time. At one point in the film the main character mentioned Sioux Falls. I will never forget what happened next. The whole crowded public theater spontaneously burst into sustained rejoicing. They clapped, they shouted, they stomped their feet, they missed the next several minutes of the movie. The name of our city spoken unexpectedly on the silver screen shot life through the crowd. It was as if we were all receiving confirmation from beyond ourselves that we did indeed exist. They know we are out here! On a grand scale the human race is in no less need of such salvation. We are marooned in exile in a universe that is more vast and mysterious than we can possibly imagine. And we have an enormous existential hunger that only a voice from outside ourselves can satisfy. The Incarnation is God’s Word – God’s voice saying, “I not only know you are there, but I am with you until the end of time.”
Many of you know the saying, “You can’t get there from here.” The phrase originates from a comedy skit called “Which Way to Millinockett?” by the rural Maine storytelling duo, Bert and I. The gist of the skit is simple. The narrator is standing outside a store when a man in a car calls to him from the road, “Which way to Millinocket?” The narrator tries to talk through several sets of directions, but stops in the middle of each one because he realizes it won’t work. He finally concludes, “Millinocket. Come to think of it, you can’t get there from here.”
The folk wisdom speaks a truth larger than getting to Millinockett. From where we sit in time and space, it is simply not possible to get to some places – if we can call them places at all. We certainly can’t get to Kepler 22b, and even more so, we cannot get to heaven. But the message of Christmas is this: God gets to Earth from where he dwells. God gets here from there, and has joined heaven to Earth (and joined heaven to who knows what other worlds?) from this henceforth, even forever. The zeal of the Lord of Hosts performs this.
Remember, Christmas began in the heart of God. It is complete only when it reaches the heart of humankind – yours and mine. And that is why the angel said unto them, “Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.
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