December 1998 Issue

John 1:1-14

We are most familiar with Christmas from Luke and Matthew, who give us the birth of Jesus by telling a narrative story of events. Luke shows us the inn, the stable, the manger, the shepherds. Matthew tells about the wise men and Herod.

John is different. John goes behind the events. He's interested, not so much in what happened, but in what it all meant. Here's how he put it:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God; all things were made through him, and without him was not anything made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world knew him not. He came to his own home, and his own people received him not. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God; who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God. And the Word became flesh comes flesh.

From the beginning, God's been saying "I love you." " But in Christ, don't you see, that statement is more than mere words. The word becomes flesh. A child. A person. God's "I love you" is so powerfully and completely spoken that it's alive in human form. Real. Visible. Tangible. The Word is now a life. God's Word "I love you" will become flesh as Jesus lives and acts. It will become flesh as Jesus heals a leper—gives sight to a blind man—preaches good news to all the people—eats dinner with a lonely tax collector—talks to a Samaritan woman at the well—and on and on and on.

And, of course, you know that God's "I love you", and our human response to God —"I love you, too"—gets stressed and strained by ugly weather. There's infidelity on our part. There's coldness on our part, and separation, while we go off and seek our joy somewhere else. God's "I love you" becomes flesh in the Jesus who knows rejection—who knows unrequited love—yet keeps on loving. "Father forgive them. They know not what they do." Above all, God's "I love you" becomes flesh when hope seems dead and love seems buried —becomes flesh on the third day when the Lover we had rejected and killed is risen and present in our midst—eternally alive, eternally loving, eternally giving of himself to be our food and drink and life.

In this Feast of the Incarnation, God marries the world, and us. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. And not just once, 2000 years ago. If there's living joy in our celebration tonight, and not just mere nostalgia, it's because the Word becomes flesh and dwells among us. In the present. A reality here and now. Lives among us intimately, the way a husband and wife of many years, who love each other deeply, live intimately together.

In the normal course of things, a loving marriage produces children, new life, offspring of the love between wife and husband. How might God's marrying of us be fruitful, how might it bring forth new life? How might that new life be "fleshed out"? In what way can I—you—we—be a manger for this child of new grace and possibility?

Let me suggest, as one way of answering that question, that we pay particular attention to the prayers that we will offer to God in just a few minutes.

We will pray for the well being of all people everywhere: people who are close to us, people we don't know at all, people we don't like.

"The Word became flesh," John says. What does that mean? How in the world are we to understand it? I mean, understand it not just as a kind of formula that enshrines religious truth, like an axiom in geometry. I mean, understand it as living, life giving good news.

Let me suggest this analogy. A young man says to a young woman, "I love you." She says to him, " I love you, too." They get married, and they start to live their lives together.

"I love you" is the word. "I Harold take you Margaret"; "I Margaret take you Harold." That's the word.

But it takes a while for the word to become flesh. That doesn't happen in the wedding ceremony. The word "I love you" becomes flesh as wife and husband live together over time—as they accumulate happy milestones. The birth of a child. The gradual development of traditions for important days. Shared memories. Private jokes. The birth of a second child. Vacations together. Favorite meals. The years go by and the word "I love you" is becoming flesh by way of such things.

And just as important, by way of the crisis times. Every marriage has seasons of ugly weather. The word "I love you" becomes flesh as the relationship is stressed and strained by storms. When a wife and a husband struggle to overcome their division —when they struggle to forgive the hurt they've received from the other—when they swallow their self righteousness and ask forgiveness of the hurt they've inflicted on the other...the word "I love you" is becoming flesh.

That is, it's becoming more than a word. It's becoming a lived reality. Actions speak louder than words, as the old adage has it. Life — lived life — is more real than speech. The word becomes flesh in a marriage through living intimately together for years.

Back when they were young—when they first said "I love you, let's get married" —they didn't know what they meant by those words. They didn't know each other not very well. If you're married, how well did you know your spouse on your wedding day? As compared to now? You come to know each other. And with God's grace, you come to know what "I love you" means — as you live out the marriage. The word be

We'll pray that our communities—our country—this world ... may live in peace— respecting one another, helping one another, renouncing selfishness and exploitation.

We'll ask God to help us use the goodness and the riches of creation in ways that make possible a life of dignity and freedom for everyone.

We'll ask God not only to forgive our sins, but to so guide and direct and correct us in the future that we may serve Him rather than ourselves.

The word becomes flesh through our fidelity to those prayers — our efforts to convert them from words into concrete actions. The word becomes flesh through our faithful desire to see God's will be done. That is how this Child is born in us and through us. That is how the Word becomes flesh, and dwells among us, full of grace and truth. May that birth indeed happen: today, tomorrow, next week, in January, and on and on. May we, through such ongoing birth, indeed behold his glory—in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

Bruce Birdsey
Episcopal Church of the Mediator
Allentown, Pennsylvania