Homily for the Fourth Sunday of Advent, Year B
2 Sam. 7.1-5, 8b-12, 14a, 16 Psalm 89 Rom. 16.25-27 Luke 1.26-38
What do you want for Christmas? There are only a few days left, and I’m sure many of us have been thinking about this question for as long as the Christmas decorations have been out in the stores, or even longer. For kids of all ages, it seems like anything to do with the Nintendo Wii is right at the top of the list this year. For technology lovers, the iPhone is still hot, or the latest iPod – or maybe it’s a fancy new digital camera. Book lovers seem to be flocking to anything to do with the Twilight series, or perhaps the latest from the Harry Potter Franchise – The Tales of Beedle the Bard, or for the more serious minded, maybe a copy of The Last Lecture. But, of course, this year is a bit different than most years in recent memory. Not a few people in this country would simply like the promise of a good job this Christmas, or the stabilization of the financial markets. We want a bailout plan that works and a future that looks promising. And, of course, who wouldn’t throw in a wish for some real and lasting peace this Christmas, a peace that in many parts of the world - even in the land of Jesus’ birth - seems elusive. What do you want for Christmas?
Alas, come Thursday, most of us will find our wishes unfulfilled. Sure, we may get the latest Wii game or a new bestseller to read, we may get a restaurant gift card or some home-baked cookies. But the greater things in life – the things that would really make a difference in our daily living this Christmas – well, there’s not much time left for miracles. This Thursday will be a great diversion – it will be a chance to spend good, quality time with those we love, thankful for what we do have, grateful that Christmas comes every year, no matter what. We will sit with the poverty of our gift-giving, knowing that there is nothing that we could wrap and put under a tree that truly speaks of the depths of our love and gratitude for the people in our lives. But still, we wish there could be more. And, as Christians, we know that there can be.
For today, we sit with Mary, the young virgin of Nazareth, betrothed to a man named Joseph. Today, we sit with her as we hear the voice of an angel, announcing the impossible and heralding the coming of a gift that surpasses all others. He is the Prince of Peace, we are told – but he is much more than simply a peacemaker. He is descendant of David, but he is much more than any earthly king or ruler. Gabriel, the angel, tells us that this child is the “Son of the Most High,” and that he will rule over a kingdom that will never end. His name will be Jesus, which means the Lord saves, because he will lead us in the path to salvation, he will open for us the gates to eternity. The gift of this child is nothing less than the gift of God himself, living here among us and drawing us to him. The gift of Christmas is nothing less than the promise of heaven.
Does that change our Christmas plans? We will still gather with family and friends, we will still share the bounty of our lives around a table of good food, we will still exchange gifts as signs of our love. But because we’re Christian, because we take the message of God spoken through an angel seriously, all of that is secondary. The gift of Christmas, the promise of heaven, leads us here to pray. The gift of a little child calls us together as a people of faith to give thanks and praise, to worship as one Body of Christ, here in this place. The many gifts of our Christmas pale in comparison to the one gift that God offers. And when we come together to celebrate that gift, we really can glimpse the eternal; we can welcome a savior; we can celebrate the impossible – God made man.
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