Isaiah 52: 7-10

Grace to you and peace from God the Father, and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Merry Christmas! Believe it or not, I think that it is truly good to be here on this Christmas morning—despite the move of many mega churches to omit worship on this high holy day.

As Christians, we believe that the revelation of God begun with the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem is without equal in the whole of human history. The incarnation, we hold, is the pivotal event, the single-most-significant moment since the very beginning of time. Such is the event that we celebrate today.

The writer of the letter to the Hebrews takes great pains to establish in beautiful language the absolute superiority of this Jesus Christ. He (or perhaps even she) begins the epistle with an argument that Jesus stands far beyond the prophets:

Long ago God spoke to our ancestors in many and various ways by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, through whom he also created the worlds.

Each of the prophets was attuned to God's voice and both heard and spoke a special word for his day. "Amos is 'a cry for social justice.' Isaiah had grasped the holiness of God. Hosea, because of his own bitter home experience, had realized the wonder of the forgiving love of God. Each prophet, out of his own experience of life and out of the experience of Israel, had grasped and expressed a fragment of the truth of God. None had grasped the whole round orb of truth; but with Jesus it was different. He was not a fragment of the truth; he was the whole truth." (Barclay, p. 13)

So great is the revelation of God in Jesus that this letter asserts his equality with God:

He is the reflection of God's glory and the exact imprint of God's very being, and he sustains all things by his powerful word. When he had made purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high,...

In fact, there is no comparison between Jesus and the prophets. Not only is Jesus reflective of God's glory, as were the prophets; he is in possession of the very imprint of God's being. And more than this, he is the one who works on behalf of the Father to sustain all of creation. In this day of environmental disaster, I really like this implied call for us to be caretakers of the earth.

This expression of God's glory on the part of one who came as a helpless child brings to mind this story:

In Edinburgh, Scotland, there is a Museum of Childhood. It's filled with childhood treasures—teddy bears, puppets, rocking horses, model trains, books, games, and doll houses. And cases and cases of dolls. Baby dolls, porcelain dolls, costumed dolls, walking-talking dolls, dolls that can turn somersaults, expensive dolls. The dolls of privileged children.

Off in one corner is another case. Behind its glass pane, another doll sits alone. It's an old, raggedy doll, much the worse for wear. But then, it began its life raggedy.

That this doll was loved, there is no doubt. Nor that it was born of love. For all its shabbiness—and it was shabby the day it was made—it had, and has, a value untold. A sign on it says, "Doll belonging to London slum child, circa 1905." The doll is unnamed. The child is unnamed.

The doll's body is made of tattered brown socks, stuffed with rags. Its arms are two thin sticks of wood, covered in wool. Its hair is a sock. It wears a plain gingham and a rough linen apron. For all its simplicity, it was made with painstaking effort.

The head is the heel of a man's shoe. Only that. A worn-down, battered heel with the nail heads visible around the edges. For a face, the doll has small bits of paper pasted on. Paper eyes, paper nose, paper mouth. The mouth does not smile.

Some might call it ugly. That would be wrong—very wrong. It is possible the slum child made it for herself. Perhaps it was a gift—created by a mother or a father who was poor in possessions. All they could give was love beyond measure.

One doesn't need to have wealth to create something valuable. One need only reach deep within, where "value" is defined. One need not have wealth to give a gift. One need only have the desire to give—to use whatever poor things are at hand and to make of them the best gift possible.

In that bleak slum of London at the turn of the century, a sorry excuse for a doll was born. A doll that is pitiful—and also very beautiful.

There is in the story of that doll something of the Christmas story. In Jesus, a tiny human child reveals the limitless love of God. In each of us, a pitiful doll is loved into beauty. Who are we, asks the Psalmist, that God should be mindful of us and care for us (8:4)? There is nothing to recommend us. Nothing but God's love, the love that is revealed at Christmas.

God's manifold revelations through the prophets were preliminary to, and are completed by, the final revelation in the Son. With him begins the last stage of history. In Christ, the world encounters its creator.

And this Christ is not only incomparably superior to the prophets. He is also more glorious even than the angels. As this first chapter of Hebrews asserts:

...he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high, having become as much superior to angels as the name he has inherited is more excellent than theirs. For to which of the angels did God ever say, "You are my Son; today I have begotten you"? Or again, "I will be his Father, and he will be my Son"? And again, when he brings the firstborn into the world, he says, "Let all God's angels worship him." Of the angels he says, "He makes his angels winds, and his servants flames of fire." But of the Son he says, "Your throne, O God, is forever and ever, and the righteous scepter is the scepter of your kingdom. You have loved righteousness and hated wickedness; therefore God, your God, has anointed you with the oil of gladness beyond your companions."

Angels have been popular for a long time. They are becoming collectors items even for Protestants these days. And here we have the letter to the Hebrews arguing about how far above the angels is Jesus. The concern, most probably, was that with all of the discussion of angels, even in ancient Palestine, their place in God's plan for salvation would be over-estimated and exaggerated in popular piety. Indeed, that is a subject of some concern even today.

"The writer to the Hebrews lays down the great truth that we need no supernatural being to bring us into the presence of God. Jesus Christ has broken every barrier down and opened a direct way for us to God." (Barclay, p. 20)

Praise God. We have access to God through the birth of this holy child in Bethlehem. The oil of gladness is ours, for we know the one who is greater than all of the prophets and more glorious than the heavenly host who joined in proclaiming his birth. "Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom God favors!"

I close with a poem. It sums up beautifully the incredible act—this revelation of God in human history that we celebrate this morning. It is entitled "Poverty of words."

How is a year of spent love

emptied into Christmas letters

for distant friends?

Can nerves and sinew,

tears and laughter,

be pressed between wet pages?

How is friendship—love—ever shared

through the aching insufficiency of words?

These are questions that

rent God's heart for centuries,

in his own breakage of language.

Until, at last, God tore from his side

the son of his anguished old age

and sent him,

bloody, squalling, and alive

to Bethlehem,

where language and love

and even God

became new.  —  Amen.