Beartivity
Commentary
I live in a house with my wife, two cats, and about 200 teddy bears. So when I saw the Beartivity set, I could not resist.
You have to see it to believe it -- a nativity scene like no other, carved and molded in exquisite detail: Mary Bear kneeling before the manger, her hands folded in prayer, her long white headdress shimmering against her black body. Joseph Bear kneeling beside her, the look on his brown muzzle somewhere between puzzlement and awe. Baby Jesus Bear lying face up in the manger, swaddling cloths laid across his lap. Hanging above them from bronze wires are two cherubic Angel Bears, complete with bronze haloes.
My wife's daughter said, "Mom, don't you think that's a little sacrilegious?"
"No more so than bathrobe Christmas pageants," she replied.
Actually, I think it more sacrilegious to etch the Nativity in stained glass, as if Mary, Joseph, Jesus, the shepherds, and the Wise Men were not real human beings who lived in a specific place and time, but were disembodied archetypes of some imagined piety. If the Incarnation is to have any meaning, Jesus must have come as a real human child. A bathrobe Christmas pageant -- or a Beartivity scene, for that matter -- may well speak of the human Son better than a stylized portrait of a haloed infant in prayer. If God had wanted to reach bears, God would have come as a bear. Instead, God came as one of us, bathrobes and all.
Besides, stained glass takes all the fun out of Christmas. It's supposed to be a party!
Isaiah 9:2-7
The party begins in the book of Isaiah with a psalm of thanksgiving. It is a birth announcement of sorts, with elements of a royal succession oracle (the passage is often taken to be an oracle for the coronation of a king, but it is clearly addressed to God). The invitation to the party gives thanks to God while announcing the birth of a crown prince who will usher in a period of unprecedented peace.
The psalm is deeply embedded in its larger literary context. Isaiah 7:1--9:7 is a series of prophecies about a royal figure with an eschatological edge: "His authority shall grow continually, and there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom. He will establish and uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time onward and forevermore" (9:7). Clearly we are dealing with a larger-than-life king, a type of all just rulers. Even the name given the child is symbolic; it is "Immanuel," "God with us" (7:14; cf. 9:6). The exact identity of Immanuel has long been a matter of debate; while the problems of chronology will never be fully resolved, the best guess is that Isaiah's prophecy originally referred to King Hezekiah, one of the bright lights of the Davidic line. Given the eschatological and messianic idealization that Isaiah applied to the king, Christians did not move far in transferring the accolades of Immanuel to Jesus. The Messiah is not made of stained glass, however, since the reference was originally to an actual king. Jesus comes to the job of Messiah with a real earthly type and predecessor, the historical Hezekiah.
Isaiah clearly sees the birth of Immanuel as set on the border between present and eschatological time. The contrast is between "the former time" and "the latter time," the time of judgment and the time of redemption (9:1). The opening of the psalm places the cause for rejoicing in the past -- the coming of light to the people, the release from oppression, the birth of the messianic king (9:2-6). Only at the end do the verbs look to the future: "His authority shall grow continually ... there shall be endless peace ... he will establish it (peace) and uphold it ... from this time onward and forevermore" (v. 7).
Throughout, it is God who acts, while the people respond. God is responsible for the great light; the people merely look up to see it (v. 2). God has "multiplied the nation"; the people respond with joy (v. 3). God has broken the yoke of the oppressor, because God has given a child who will be named "Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace" (v. 6). These names probably reflect coronation names of Egyptian rulers; they represent the extraordinary gifts that God has given to the anointed ones. God has acted to share part of God's own nature with us; Immanuel, "God with us," is given "to us" (v. 6; cf. 7:14).
There is a note of force in God's action; the metaphors are mixed between military and agricultural. While God has tended to the people, giving them prosperity and growth despite darkness and oppression (vv. 2-3), God has done so as a general: "For all the boots of the tramping warriors and all the garments rolled in blood shall be burned as fuel for the fire" (v. 5). Like Joshua leading Israel to victory over Midian with only 300 soldiers and their trumpets, God has broken the yoke and bar of Israel's oppressor (v. 4; cf. Judges 7:15-25). The historical reference is to the Syro-Ephraimite war, with perhaps a look ahead to impending judgment on Assyria. The promise is that God will defeat all the people's enemies, in the person of a mighty warrior-king who will bring peace. "The zeal of the Lord of Hosts will do this" (v. 7).
The people's response to God's action is to throw a party. It will be like the joy of the harvest, or joy over battle plunder carted home. The language is liturgical: "They rejoice before you ..." (v. 3; cf. Psalm 13:6; 31:7). The proper response to God's action is to lift voices and sing to the Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace.
Titus 2:11-14
Debate over Pauline authorship of the letter to Titus continues, with the majority holding that it reflects the work of a posthumous "Pauline school," and a vocal minority asserting that it could be the work of an imprisoned Paul, or by disciples supervised by him. There is nothing in this passage that could not be taken either way.
At any rate, it is clear that the author is writing to Gentile Christians who are in sore need of moral instruction, and this instruction is provided in a familiar form: the "household table" of moral conduct as espoused by Hellenistic philosophers (Titus 2:2-10). The Roman household consisted of what we would now call an "extended family" that included servants and slaves as well as blood relatives, each with its proper place. Our lection provides the theological basis for household behavior; it provides the why to the what of Christian morality.
The why of Christian virtue proves to be the how as well, since 2:11-14 is one long sentence in Greek that has as its subject, "grace." Grace, God's unmerited favor or "free gift," is the teacher of morality. Grace educates and civilizes these former pagans, the Gentile residents of Crete who have come to believe in Jesus Christ. The verb paideuo, which means "train, educate" (v. 12), reflects the ideal of Hellenistic philosophy that true knowledge, true learning, actually made one a better person. The difference here is that the force to become good is not the individual human will, but the power of God. Grace is a teacher, trainer, and coach.
This grace of God has appeared in Jesus Christ, and brings salvation to all (v. 11; this could be a reference either to universal salvation, or undiscriminating salvation). Salvation is not devoid of moral content, since grace trains us in two directions (v. 12). First, it tells us to drop "impiety and worldly passions," all false conceptions of God, along with the immoral conduct that goes with them. Second, grace teaches us "to live lives that are self-controlled, upright, and godly." These three adjectives reflect three of the four cardinal virtues in Hellenistic philosophy: moderation, justice, and piety; again, pagan values are being adapted and transformed by Christian faith. Like any good sermon, the movement is from the familiar to the new. These virtues are now set in an eschatological context; Christians practice them "in the present age," implicitly looking for the "age to come" (cf. 1 Timothy 1:16).
Having made clear the ethical requirement, the letter goes on to give the theological foundation in "the blessed hope and the manifestation of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ" (v. 13). It is clear that the actions of the present are rooted in the promises of the future. Less clear is how exactly to construe this complex clause. "Blessed hope" (or "hope that brings blessings") is probably to be equated with "manifestation," which refers to the future coming of Christ (though the same language can be used of the first coming of Jesus, cf. 2:11; 3:4; 1 Timothy 6:14; 2 Timothy 1:10; 4:1, 8; 2 Thessalonians 2:8). What is manifested is "glory" (though the expression could mean, "the glorious manifestation," as KJV). The glory belongs to "our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ." This expression could also be rendered, "of the great God, and our Savior, Jesus Christ"; in favor of the first option is that nowhere else is God said to accompany Jesus in his coming, while in favor of the second is that nowhere else in the Pauline corpus is Jesus equated with God (except perhaps Romans 9:5). A third option is that "Jesus Christ" may stand in apposition to "glory," so that the point is that Jesus defines God's own glory.
The grace that is manifested in Jesus teaches us proper behavior, because that is its very nature. The twofold action of grace corresponds to its twofold effect on the believer: "He it is who gave himself for us that he might redeem us from all iniquity and purify for himself a people of his own who are zealous for good deeds" (v. 14; cf. v. 12). Christians can renounce impiety and worldly desires, because Jesus has redeemed us from iniquity (the allusion is to Psalm 130:8). They can live lives that are self-controlled, upright, and godly because Jesus has purified them (alluding to Exodus 19:5; Deuteronomy 14:2 LXX, and Ezekiel 37:23). Thus we see that grace activates the virtues required by the "household table" in verses 2-10; a purified people has the ability to live in the present age while looking forward to the age to come, to be a part of the usual structures of society, yet for God's purposes, not the world's. Thus these Gentile Christians can become "a people of his own" (1 Peter 2:9).
The end result of this theological reflection is eminently practical: grace creates a people "who are zealous for good deeds," the kind spelled out in verses 2-10 and verse 12. In true Pauline fashion, good deeds do not make for salvation, but the opposite. True salvation inevitably results in the moral life. The zeal of the Lord of hosts makes a people who are equally zealous -- for good!
Luke 2:1-14 (15-20)
Luke's nativity scene is part of an introductory section that parallels and contrasts two prophets, John the Baptist and Jesus, with Jesus placed in the superior position. Luke's story is set in two historical contexts, biblical and secular. It takes place in the time and place of Emperor Augustus and governor Quirinius (unfortunately, Luke's chronology seems off the mark here, since the census of Quirinius was several years later than Luke's timeframe). Yet the language and personnel are straight out of the Greek Old Testament: angels, prophets, and biblical cadences. Again, we stand at the border of two ages.
Luke presents his pageant in three scenes. In Scene One, we find ourselves on the road with a great mass of humanity, displaced at imperial whim (Luke 2:1-5). While there are historical problems with a census that would require such a mass pilgrimage (an event otherwise unknown), Luke's theological point is clear: earthly powers, even in Rome, actually work at God's bidding. Though the era of Augustus was widely known as an era of peace, Luke presents the true bearer of peace as an infant in an out-of-the-way village, born to transients. Augustus proves to be God's agent in making the Messiah's birthplace conform to the prophets.
Joseph is clearly identified as a descendant of the royal line, and he takes with him his fiancee, the pregnant Mary (the reader has already learned the miraculous details of her pregnancy, Luke 1:26-38). Since betrothal was a binding commitment, Mary would have had to go with Joseph on such a trip; Luke avoids calling her his "wife" in order to highlight the unusual nature of her condition. Their trip from Nazareth to Bethlehem probably took place on foot; as the poor of the land, a donkey would have been beyond their means.
Scene Two takes place in the city of Bethlehem (Luke 2:6-7). The child's birth in less-than-ideal conditions is presented in unsentimental terms. Unlike many a Christmas pageant, there is no nasty innkeeper who refuses to take them in, nor cooing animals surrounding the feed trough. In fact, the "manger" may have been no more than a pile of feed on the ground, and the "inn" no more than an open area with a wall to keep the wind off the animals. Into such humility was the Prince of Peace born. His beginning foreshadows his ending; as he is wrapped in bands of cloth to stiffen his limbs, and placed in the feed trough, so he will be wrapped in a linen cloth, and placed in a tomb where no one yet had been laid (Luke 23:53).
Scene Three takes place in fields outside Bethlehem, before it moves to the manger (2:8-20). Shepherds become the first recipients of the good news of the birth of the Messiah. Like Joseph and Mary, they were among the poor in the land; sheepherding was not a lucrative trade, and shepherds were often reviled as shiftless or dishonest. Mary's prophecy has come true: God "has lifted up the lowly" (1:52). Shepherds are also appropriate witnesses to the Davidic messiah, since David himself began from such a position (cf. 1 Samuel 16:11; 17:15). The shepherds receive a visit from an angel, as did Zechariah and Mary (1:11, 26); indeed, the angel's words are the same as to Mary, "Do not be afraid" (2:10). Fear they might well have, since the angel exposes them to the "dawning from on high" (2:9; cf. 1:78). God's glory is manifested in the most unlikely of places, as the poor have good news preached to them (cf. 4:18).
The angel brings to the shepherds "good news of great joy for all the people" (2:10); it is hard not to see a hint of Lukan universalism in this proclamation, since by the end of Luke's story the Gospel will indeed have spread to "the ends of the earth" (Acts 1:8). The good news is that "to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord" (the echo of Isaiah 9:6 is certainly intentional). The rhetoric of "Savior, Messiah, Lord" stands in contrast with the reality of a babe on a pile of wheat, but the very humility of the situation is its own proof: "This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger" (v. 12; again, the allusion to Isaiah 7:14 is probably intentional). The fulfillment of this small prophecy in verse 16 provides assurance that the rest of the angel's words will come to pass. If there were any doubt that the heavens had burst the bounds of earth, one angel is joined by a multitude in chorus: "And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!' " (vv. 13-14). The "favor" in the angel's song refers to God's attitude toward humanity, not any human accomplishment (the traditional KJV reading, "goodwill toward men" is based on a faulty Greek manuscript).
The shepherds respond with immediate faith: "Let us go now to Bethlehem and see the thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us. So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger" (vv. 15-16). The shepherds become the first human witnesses of the good news first proclaimed by angels: "When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child" (v. 17). The story produces amazement and pondering (vv. 18-19), but the shepherds return to their fields convinced of what they have seen, "glorifying and praising God" (v. 20). The party has begun!
Application
Some preachers hold Christmas so tightly that you'd think they would be afraid of breaking it. They are rightly appalled by the commercialization of the holiday, and seek to draw clear lines between the preparation of Advent and the 12 days of Christmas: no proleptic Christmas carols, no pageants in Advent, no "Christmas" parties sponsored by the church (okay, okay, let's call them "holiday" parties instead!). When merchants begin Christmas in October and close it down on December 26, what is a church to do? It's our holiday, after all.
However, I hate to see all the fun squeezed out of Christmas. I confess I love the hullabaloo, including Santa and tinsel and trees. I love Christmas movies, Miracle on 34th Street (the original, not the remake), How the Grinch Stole Christmas (ditto), Holiday Inn -- not to mention Christmas classics like Die Hard and Lethal Weapon. And I love my Beartivity scene. If Christians can't have fun on Christmas, who can?
The Good News is news of great joy. Christmas Eve is a cause for singing. Dour faces in the pulpit simply will not do. There is no need to denounce the secular holiday (let alone those people who only show up tonight and on Easter). Rather, sing the Good News. Truly a human Prince of Peace has come to live among us. God has acted to take care of us, by sending us a king who will make us into the people we were meant to be. If anything we preach on Christmas (not to mention Easter) is true, then that Messiah is still alive and with us today.
If that isn't cause for joy, I don't know what is.
Alternative Applications
1) Luke 2:1-14 (15-20). One reason I like my Beartivity scene is that it has no Wise Men. It is Luke's nativity scene, with no attempt to harmonize it with Matthew, which warms my biblical scholar's heart. Preachers should let each biblical writer speak independently. Don't let Matthew's Wise Men stumble over the shepherds on their way out of the barn. Not only does Matthew represent a completely different tradition, but also in his chronology, the Wise Men show up two years later. At any rate, he places Jesus in a "house," not a manger (cf. Matthew 2:11, 16). Let Matthew have Christmas Eve off; he can work later. Let Luke tell his own story.
2) Titus 2:11-14. The Christian life is something that God does, before it is something we do. In Isaiah, the people respond to God's great actions. In Titus, Christian social morality is based on the teachings of grace; again, God acts, then we respond. Luke's shepherds follow the same pattern; they become the first human witnesses to the Messiah when they simply repeat what has been told them by the angels. The biblical pattern is clear: God makes us who we are to be, then we respond by being that people. It follows that the main job of the preacher is to tell Christians what God has done to make them who they are. What they are to do will follow, even without saying.
Psalm 96
Psalm 96 is an enthronement psalm. This type of psalm was employed in worship to celebrate the unique presence of God with Israel in the temple and also to celebrate God's kingship over all creation. The presence of God was most likely symbolized by means of the Ark of the Covenant. The ark was carried into the temple in a processional and placed in the Holy of Holies. Bringing the ark into the worship place was the signal to celebrate the reality of God's presence in the world. That recognition was heralded with the words "the Lord reigns" (v. 10).
The psalm can be divided into two sections: verses 1-6 and verses 7-13. Each section follows the same scheme. Verses 1-6 are a call for worshipers in community to praise God. Verses 1-3 encourage worshipers to "sing a new song." In singing a new song, worshipers bless God's name and tell of his salvation. Verses 4-6 explain why we should praise God in this way. God is great, God is to be feared, God is creator, and so on. Verses 7-13 are a call for all people to praise God. Verses 7-9 encourage "the families of the people" to worship God. Verses 10-13 describe how God rules over creation and judges all people.
Psalm 96 celebrates God's presence in the world and because of this we are encouraged to sing a new song. The old songs, while certainly filled with praise and thanksgiving, apparently are not able to capture the significance of the new reality created by God's presence. Once God enters the world, everything is different. All of our former ideas and notions have to be revisited and revised. God's arrival sparks a new beginning that must be celebrated with new praise. This psalm, of course, is intended to be such a new song. It has been made possible because God has used God's power to create security for us and provide salvation.
These themes are useful anytime in worship, of course, but they take on special significance in the celebration of Christmas. Jesus' entry into the world certainly marks the beginning of a new way of conceiving God's presence in the world. Through Jesus, God provides security and salvation. And what season of the year is filled with more music than the Christmas season?
But we should heed the call of the psalmist to sing a new song. Not that the old hymns and carols are not meaningful; they certainly are. However, confessing that God has entered our world though the miracle of incarnation must remain before us a startling assertion. We cannot afford to let the wonder of this idea, the mystery of it, become mundane. We should be filled with awe and wonder every time the topic comes up.
If we are able to sustain our wonder, then as God is carried into the world, not symbolized by the Ark of the Covenant, but incarnated in the babe of Bethlehem, it will surely be possible for there to slip from our lips a song of praise and thanksgiving that is fresh and new.
You have to see it to believe it -- a nativity scene like no other, carved and molded in exquisite detail: Mary Bear kneeling before the manger, her hands folded in prayer, her long white headdress shimmering against her black body. Joseph Bear kneeling beside her, the look on his brown muzzle somewhere between puzzlement and awe. Baby Jesus Bear lying face up in the manger, swaddling cloths laid across his lap. Hanging above them from bronze wires are two cherubic Angel Bears, complete with bronze haloes.
My wife's daughter said, "Mom, don't you think that's a little sacrilegious?"
"No more so than bathrobe Christmas pageants," she replied.
Actually, I think it more sacrilegious to etch the Nativity in stained glass, as if Mary, Joseph, Jesus, the shepherds, and the Wise Men were not real human beings who lived in a specific place and time, but were disembodied archetypes of some imagined piety. If the Incarnation is to have any meaning, Jesus must have come as a real human child. A bathrobe Christmas pageant -- or a Beartivity scene, for that matter -- may well speak of the human Son better than a stylized portrait of a haloed infant in prayer. If God had wanted to reach bears, God would have come as a bear. Instead, God came as one of us, bathrobes and all.
Besides, stained glass takes all the fun out of Christmas. It's supposed to be a party!
Isaiah 9:2-7
The party begins in the book of Isaiah with a psalm of thanksgiving. It is a birth announcement of sorts, with elements of a royal succession oracle (the passage is often taken to be an oracle for the coronation of a king, but it is clearly addressed to God). The invitation to the party gives thanks to God while announcing the birth of a crown prince who will usher in a period of unprecedented peace.
The psalm is deeply embedded in its larger literary context. Isaiah 7:1--9:7 is a series of prophecies about a royal figure with an eschatological edge: "His authority shall grow continually, and there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom. He will establish and uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time onward and forevermore" (9:7). Clearly we are dealing with a larger-than-life king, a type of all just rulers. Even the name given the child is symbolic; it is "Immanuel," "God with us" (7:14; cf. 9:6). The exact identity of Immanuel has long been a matter of debate; while the problems of chronology will never be fully resolved, the best guess is that Isaiah's prophecy originally referred to King Hezekiah, one of the bright lights of the Davidic line. Given the eschatological and messianic idealization that Isaiah applied to the king, Christians did not move far in transferring the accolades of Immanuel to Jesus. The Messiah is not made of stained glass, however, since the reference was originally to an actual king. Jesus comes to the job of Messiah with a real earthly type and predecessor, the historical Hezekiah.
Isaiah clearly sees the birth of Immanuel as set on the border between present and eschatological time. The contrast is between "the former time" and "the latter time," the time of judgment and the time of redemption (9:1). The opening of the psalm places the cause for rejoicing in the past -- the coming of light to the people, the release from oppression, the birth of the messianic king (9:2-6). Only at the end do the verbs look to the future: "His authority shall grow continually ... there shall be endless peace ... he will establish it (peace) and uphold it ... from this time onward and forevermore" (v. 7).
Throughout, it is God who acts, while the people respond. God is responsible for the great light; the people merely look up to see it (v. 2). God has "multiplied the nation"; the people respond with joy (v. 3). God has broken the yoke of the oppressor, because God has given a child who will be named "Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace" (v. 6). These names probably reflect coronation names of Egyptian rulers; they represent the extraordinary gifts that God has given to the anointed ones. God has acted to share part of God's own nature with us; Immanuel, "God with us," is given "to us" (v. 6; cf. 7:14).
There is a note of force in God's action; the metaphors are mixed between military and agricultural. While God has tended to the people, giving them prosperity and growth despite darkness and oppression (vv. 2-3), God has done so as a general: "For all the boots of the tramping warriors and all the garments rolled in blood shall be burned as fuel for the fire" (v. 5). Like Joshua leading Israel to victory over Midian with only 300 soldiers and their trumpets, God has broken the yoke and bar of Israel's oppressor (v. 4; cf. Judges 7:15-25). The historical reference is to the Syro-Ephraimite war, with perhaps a look ahead to impending judgment on Assyria. The promise is that God will defeat all the people's enemies, in the person of a mighty warrior-king who will bring peace. "The zeal of the Lord of Hosts will do this" (v. 7).
The people's response to God's action is to throw a party. It will be like the joy of the harvest, or joy over battle plunder carted home. The language is liturgical: "They rejoice before you ..." (v. 3; cf. Psalm 13:6; 31:7). The proper response to God's action is to lift voices and sing to the Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace.
Titus 2:11-14
Debate over Pauline authorship of the letter to Titus continues, with the majority holding that it reflects the work of a posthumous "Pauline school," and a vocal minority asserting that it could be the work of an imprisoned Paul, or by disciples supervised by him. There is nothing in this passage that could not be taken either way.
At any rate, it is clear that the author is writing to Gentile Christians who are in sore need of moral instruction, and this instruction is provided in a familiar form: the "household table" of moral conduct as espoused by Hellenistic philosophers (Titus 2:2-10). The Roman household consisted of what we would now call an "extended family" that included servants and slaves as well as blood relatives, each with its proper place. Our lection provides the theological basis for household behavior; it provides the why to the what of Christian morality.
The why of Christian virtue proves to be the how as well, since 2:11-14 is one long sentence in Greek that has as its subject, "grace." Grace, God's unmerited favor or "free gift," is the teacher of morality. Grace educates and civilizes these former pagans, the Gentile residents of Crete who have come to believe in Jesus Christ. The verb paideuo, which means "train, educate" (v. 12), reflects the ideal of Hellenistic philosophy that true knowledge, true learning, actually made one a better person. The difference here is that the force to become good is not the individual human will, but the power of God. Grace is a teacher, trainer, and coach.
This grace of God has appeared in Jesus Christ, and brings salvation to all (v. 11; this could be a reference either to universal salvation, or undiscriminating salvation). Salvation is not devoid of moral content, since grace trains us in two directions (v. 12). First, it tells us to drop "impiety and worldly passions," all false conceptions of God, along with the immoral conduct that goes with them. Second, grace teaches us "to live lives that are self-controlled, upright, and godly." These three adjectives reflect three of the four cardinal virtues in Hellenistic philosophy: moderation, justice, and piety; again, pagan values are being adapted and transformed by Christian faith. Like any good sermon, the movement is from the familiar to the new. These virtues are now set in an eschatological context; Christians practice them "in the present age," implicitly looking for the "age to come" (cf. 1 Timothy 1:16).
Having made clear the ethical requirement, the letter goes on to give the theological foundation in "the blessed hope and the manifestation of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ" (v. 13). It is clear that the actions of the present are rooted in the promises of the future. Less clear is how exactly to construe this complex clause. "Blessed hope" (or "hope that brings blessings") is probably to be equated with "manifestation," which refers to the future coming of Christ (though the same language can be used of the first coming of Jesus, cf. 2:11; 3:4; 1 Timothy 6:14; 2 Timothy 1:10; 4:1, 8; 2 Thessalonians 2:8). What is manifested is "glory" (though the expression could mean, "the glorious manifestation," as KJV). The glory belongs to "our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ." This expression could also be rendered, "of the great God, and our Savior, Jesus Christ"; in favor of the first option is that nowhere else is God said to accompany Jesus in his coming, while in favor of the second is that nowhere else in the Pauline corpus is Jesus equated with God (except perhaps Romans 9:5). A third option is that "Jesus Christ" may stand in apposition to "glory," so that the point is that Jesus defines God's own glory.
The grace that is manifested in Jesus teaches us proper behavior, because that is its very nature. The twofold action of grace corresponds to its twofold effect on the believer: "He it is who gave himself for us that he might redeem us from all iniquity and purify for himself a people of his own who are zealous for good deeds" (v. 14; cf. v. 12). Christians can renounce impiety and worldly desires, because Jesus has redeemed us from iniquity (the allusion is to Psalm 130:8). They can live lives that are self-controlled, upright, and godly because Jesus has purified them (alluding to Exodus 19:5; Deuteronomy 14:2 LXX, and Ezekiel 37:23). Thus we see that grace activates the virtues required by the "household table" in verses 2-10; a purified people has the ability to live in the present age while looking forward to the age to come, to be a part of the usual structures of society, yet for God's purposes, not the world's. Thus these Gentile Christians can become "a people of his own" (1 Peter 2:9).
The end result of this theological reflection is eminently practical: grace creates a people "who are zealous for good deeds," the kind spelled out in verses 2-10 and verse 12. In true Pauline fashion, good deeds do not make for salvation, but the opposite. True salvation inevitably results in the moral life. The zeal of the Lord of hosts makes a people who are equally zealous -- for good!
Luke 2:1-14 (15-20)
Luke's nativity scene is part of an introductory section that parallels and contrasts two prophets, John the Baptist and Jesus, with Jesus placed in the superior position. Luke's story is set in two historical contexts, biblical and secular. It takes place in the time and place of Emperor Augustus and governor Quirinius (unfortunately, Luke's chronology seems off the mark here, since the census of Quirinius was several years later than Luke's timeframe). Yet the language and personnel are straight out of the Greek Old Testament: angels, prophets, and biblical cadences. Again, we stand at the border of two ages.
Luke presents his pageant in three scenes. In Scene One, we find ourselves on the road with a great mass of humanity, displaced at imperial whim (Luke 2:1-5). While there are historical problems with a census that would require such a mass pilgrimage (an event otherwise unknown), Luke's theological point is clear: earthly powers, even in Rome, actually work at God's bidding. Though the era of Augustus was widely known as an era of peace, Luke presents the true bearer of peace as an infant in an out-of-the-way village, born to transients. Augustus proves to be God's agent in making the Messiah's birthplace conform to the prophets.
Joseph is clearly identified as a descendant of the royal line, and he takes with him his fiancee, the pregnant Mary (the reader has already learned the miraculous details of her pregnancy, Luke 1:26-38). Since betrothal was a binding commitment, Mary would have had to go with Joseph on such a trip; Luke avoids calling her his "wife" in order to highlight the unusual nature of her condition. Their trip from Nazareth to Bethlehem probably took place on foot; as the poor of the land, a donkey would have been beyond their means.
Scene Two takes place in the city of Bethlehem (Luke 2:6-7). The child's birth in less-than-ideal conditions is presented in unsentimental terms. Unlike many a Christmas pageant, there is no nasty innkeeper who refuses to take them in, nor cooing animals surrounding the feed trough. In fact, the "manger" may have been no more than a pile of feed on the ground, and the "inn" no more than an open area with a wall to keep the wind off the animals. Into such humility was the Prince of Peace born. His beginning foreshadows his ending; as he is wrapped in bands of cloth to stiffen his limbs, and placed in the feed trough, so he will be wrapped in a linen cloth, and placed in a tomb where no one yet had been laid (Luke 23:53).
Scene Three takes place in fields outside Bethlehem, before it moves to the manger (2:8-20). Shepherds become the first recipients of the good news of the birth of the Messiah. Like Joseph and Mary, they were among the poor in the land; sheepherding was not a lucrative trade, and shepherds were often reviled as shiftless or dishonest. Mary's prophecy has come true: God "has lifted up the lowly" (1:52). Shepherds are also appropriate witnesses to the Davidic messiah, since David himself began from such a position (cf. 1 Samuel 16:11; 17:15). The shepherds receive a visit from an angel, as did Zechariah and Mary (1:11, 26); indeed, the angel's words are the same as to Mary, "Do not be afraid" (2:10). Fear they might well have, since the angel exposes them to the "dawning from on high" (2:9; cf. 1:78). God's glory is manifested in the most unlikely of places, as the poor have good news preached to them (cf. 4:18).
The angel brings to the shepherds "good news of great joy for all the people" (2:10); it is hard not to see a hint of Lukan universalism in this proclamation, since by the end of Luke's story the Gospel will indeed have spread to "the ends of the earth" (Acts 1:8). The good news is that "to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord" (the echo of Isaiah 9:6 is certainly intentional). The rhetoric of "Savior, Messiah, Lord" stands in contrast with the reality of a babe on a pile of wheat, but the very humility of the situation is its own proof: "This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger" (v. 12; again, the allusion to Isaiah 7:14 is probably intentional). The fulfillment of this small prophecy in verse 16 provides assurance that the rest of the angel's words will come to pass. If there were any doubt that the heavens had burst the bounds of earth, one angel is joined by a multitude in chorus: "And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!' " (vv. 13-14). The "favor" in the angel's song refers to God's attitude toward humanity, not any human accomplishment (the traditional KJV reading, "goodwill toward men" is based on a faulty Greek manuscript).
The shepherds respond with immediate faith: "Let us go now to Bethlehem and see the thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us. So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger" (vv. 15-16). The shepherds become the first human witnesses of the good news first proclaimed by angels: "When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child" (v. 17). The story produces amazement and pondering (vv. 18-19), but the shepherds return to their fields convinced of what they have seen, "glorifying and praising God" (v. 20). The party has begun!
Application
Some preachers hold Christmas so tightly that you'd think they would be afraid of breaking it. They are rightly appalled by the commercialization of the holiday, and seek to draw clear lines between the preparation of Advent and the 12 days of Christmas: no proleptic Christmas carols, no pageants in Advent, no "Christmas" parties sponsored by the church (okay, okay, let's call them "holiday" parties instead!). When merchants begin Christmas in October and close it down on December 26, what is a church to do? It's our holiday, after all.
However, I hate to see all the fun squeezed out of Christmas. I confess I love the hullabaloo, including Santa and tinsel and trees. I love Christmas movies, Miracle on 34th Street (the original, not the remake), How the Grinch Stole Christmas (ditto), Holiday Inn -- not to mention Christmas classics like Die Hard and Lethal Weapon. And I love my Beartivity scene. If Christians can't have fun on Christmas, who can?
The Good News is news of great joy. Christmas Eve is a cause for singing. Dour faces in the pulpit simply will not do. There is no need to denounce the secular holiday (let alone those people who only show up tonight and on Easter). Rather, sing the Good News. Truly a human Prince of Peace has come to live among us. God has acted to take care of us, by sending us a king who will make us into the people we were meant to be. If anything we preach on Christmas (not to mention Easter) is true, then that Messiah is still alive and with us today.
If that isn't cause for joy, I don't know what is.
Alternative Applications
1) Luke 2:1-14 (15-20). One reason I like my Beartivity scene is that it has no Wise Men. It is Luke's nativity scene, with no attempt to harmonize it with Matthew, which warms my biblical scholar's heart. Preachers should let each biblical writer speak independently. Don't let Matthew's Wise Men stumble over the shepherds on their way out of the barn. Not only does Matthew represent a completely different tradition, but also in his chronology, the Wise Men show up two years later. At any rate, he places Jesus in a "house," not a manger (cf. Matthew 2:11, 16). Let Matthew have Christmas Eve off; he can work later. Let Luke tell his own story.
2) Titus 2:11-14. The Christian life is something that God does, before it is something we do. In Isaiah, the people respond to God's great actions. In Titus, Christian social morality is based on the teachings of grace; again, God acts, then we respond. Luke's shepherds follow the same pattern; they become the first human witnesses to the Messiah when they simply repeat what has been told them by the angels. The biblical pattern is clear: God makes us who we are to be, then we respond by being that people. It follows that the main job of the preacher is to tell Christians what God has done to make them who they are. What they are to do will follow, even without saying.
Psalm 96
Psalm 96 is an enthronement psalm. This type of psalm was employed in worship to celebrate the unique presence of God with Israel in the temple and also to celebrate God's kingship over all creation. The presence of God was most likely symbolized by means of the Ark of the Covenant. The ark was carried into the temple in a processional and placed in the Holy of Holies. Bringing the ark into the worship place was the signal to celebrate the reality of God's presence in the world. That recognition was heralded with the words "the Lord reigns" (v. 10).
The psalm can be divided into two sections: verses 1-6 and verses 7-13. Each section follows the same scheme. Verses 1-6 are a call for worshipers in community to praise God. Verses 1-3 encourage worshipers to "sing a new song." In singing a new song, worshipers bless God's name and tell of his salvation. Verses 4-6 explain why we should praise God in this way. God is great, God is to be feared, God is creator, and so on. Verses 7-13 are a call for all people to praise God. Verses 7-9 encourage "the families of the people" to worship God. Verses 10-13 describe how God rules over creation and judges all people.
Psalm 96 celebrates God's presence in the world and because of this we are encouraged to sing a new song. The old songs, while certainly filled with praise and thanksgiving, apparently are not able to capture the significance of the new reality created by God's presence. Once God enters the world, everything is different. All of our former ideas and notions have to be revisited and revised. God's arrival sparks a new beginning that must be celebrated with new praise. This psalm, of course, is intended to be such a new song. It has been made possible because God has used God's power to create security for us and provide salvation.
These themes are useful anytime in worship, of course, but they take on special significance in the celebration of Christmas. Jesus' entry into the world certainly marks the beginning of a new way of conceiving God's presence in the world. Through Jesus, God provides security and salvation. And what season of the year is filled with more music than the Christmas season?
But we should heed the call of the psalmist to sing a new song. Not that the old hymns and carols are not meaningful; they certainly are. However, confessing that God has entered our world though the miracle of incarnation must remain before us a startling assertion. We cannot afford to let the wonder of this idea, the mystery of it, become mundane. We should be filled with awe and wonder every time the topic comes up.
If we are able to sustain our wonder, then as God is carried into the world, not symbolized by the Ark of the Covenant, but incarnated in the babe of Bethlehem, it will surely be possible for there to slip from our lips a song of praise and thanksgiving that is fresh and new.
