Sermon for Year B, Christmas Eve
By The Rev. Torey
Lightcap
Saint Thomas
Episcopal Church
December 24, 2011
“Loved”
Welcome, each and all.
Tonight, I wish to make the following
proposition:
Let’s be real, and honest, and as close to the bone as we can get.
Let’s let the words of our liturgy
speak for themselves,
And let the music be as beautiful and as moving and as true it’s meant
to be.
And in this moment, let’s try to go all the way down, and touch bottom.
All the way down to the truth of the
human condition,
Where there is no room for equivocation or falsehood,
No time for self-deception.
Because,
I suspect that out of deference to family obligation or plain-old
tradition, …
Or because we live in a culture that just expects it, …
Or because maybe you have a hole in your heart that you can’t close
And you’re so blue you don’t know how you’re going to get out of bed
tomorrow,
And the idea of Christmas is
just making it worse –
For any of these reasons, you may have found yourself here tonight.
You’ve come tired or doubtful or
broke or depressed.
You’ve come wondering what the point
of it all is.
Or you’ve come whistling, with your
hands in your pockets
And the expectations of the joys of the season ahead.
You must know that all of that is okay. All of that is
welcome.
I pray you get what you need in any
case,
And that you get hungry later and want to come back here for more.
All well and good.
Whether you believe the narrative we
preach and sing tonight is virtually inconsequential.
There’s something much deeper than
that.
And it’s really the only thing that
matters right now,
And it’s this:
Can you allow yourself to be loved?
I’m not asking a psychological
question;
I’m not even asking a terribly theological question;
I’m asking a practical question.
Can you allow yourself to know that
in spite of everything,
You are deeply and radically and unconditionally loved
By a Force that is both not
you,
And that, at the same time, richly indwells itself in you?
Let’s not get hung up on what to call
this Force for just this moment.
“God” is a simply shorthand term, and
it means different things to different people.
The matter is this, what’s at stake
is this:
Can you, practically speaking, let yourself be loved
By this One who comes and lives in you all the time?
Selected you from before you were
born,
And said, Ah, now this one. Here’s
one I really really love …
Can you let yourself be loved?
Can you, in spite of your sins –
Both how you get it wrong and
how you get it right (for those are sins, too) –
Can you allow yourself to be loved?
Because the simple fact is … you are,
already.
You can’t change that, and why would
you?
The child in the stable is, quite
simply, the incarnation of that fact –
The confirmation of that fact
–
Of the truth of your being loved already so radically and so beautifully
For precisely who you are at
this very moment:
Scars, flaws, and all.
There is nothing else to know or to say
Until this fact is known and proclaimed in every quarter of the world,
And until it is seen for what it is in every human heart.
Religion will be nothing more than a
set of performative statistics
And the appeasing of rituals without it.
It seems we spend the whole of our
lives beating our breasts and pounding on altars,
Staring into space and pleading: God,
love me; I can do better; love me!
… When that’s senseless.
Karl Barth was a world-renown
theologian who wrote millions of
words for 82 years.
Towards the end of his life, when so
many people were seeking his wisdom,
Someone asked him how he would summarize all of his work in just a few words.
He is said to have replied, very
simply,
“Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.”
I’m begging you, then, to take this
truth into you;
And if you can’t quite believe it coming from me,
Then take the learned teacher at his word.
You are loved.
Radically, completely, utterly,
deeply.
No reasoning can undo that fact.
How that speaks to you in your life?
Maybe the answer isn’t known.
Maybe you don’t even need to know right now.
Maybe it’s enough just to get the big
message.
So there, now.
It’s all out; it’s all on the table;
I don’t have a single card left unplayed in my hand;
There is no other shoe waiting to drop.
Hear the message. Sing the songs.
Take the holy supper.
They all mean the same thing.
You are loved. Amen.
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