Sermon: "Everybody Gets a Present," December 25, 2019

John 1:1-18
Rev. Ryan Slifka

You may have realized this about the Bible: the world it was written is pretty different from the world we know. It’s hard to imagine ones’ self as a first century Jew, let alone a Jew of the tenth century B.C. Our human nature isn’t very different. But the way we think about things certainly is. 

A major difference is how we think about God. For us moderns, the double-century-plus question has been—is there a God? Are we created, or did we just end up here by lucky chance? 

For the pre-moderns of the Bible, however, the question “is there a God?” would have been unthinkable. No, they assumed a divine dimension to life. The question wasn’t “is there a God?” (or gods). The questions for them were questions like “who is God?” “what is God like?” and “which god or gods are worth pinning your hopes to?” Knowing there was a spiritual dimension to life, they wondered not whether it existed. But who or what the wizard behind the curtain was like. And how to live rightly before him. Or her. Or them. 

And, wouldn’t you know, we hear echoes of that same question in our reading from John’s gospel. We hear that in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. Clearly we have a talkative God if this God is his Word. Like a walking speech bubble. But listen to the last few verses. 

“And,” it says. “And the Word became flesh.” The Word became flesh it says “and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth. From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. The law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.” 

John of course is talking about Jesus. Jesus is the Word made flesh, God became flesh in Jesus. In him, he says, we have seen God’s glory. Nobody’s ever seen God, he says, but Jesus has disclosed the heart of the Creator.  

This is John’s answer to the question, “what is God like?” What mystery resides hidden at the heart of the universe? What’s underneath and in it all? Is it karma? Reward for good, punishment for bad? Is it fate? Where our lives are dictated from beginning to end and there’s nothing we can do? Is it antagonistic towards us, with life at the mercy of a cruel and cold divine will? Or is it cold and indifferent? Whether we live or die… no biggie either way. 

No, John says. None of those. 

 As one of my favorite writers Brian Zahnd puts it: “God is like Jesus. God has always been like Jesus. There has never been a time when God was not like Jesus. We have not always known what God is like—But now we do.” What mystery resides hidden at the heart of the universe? What’s underneath and in it all? It’s all bubbled to the surface in Bethlehem. And what’s bubbled up is “The glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.” And “From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.” The incarnation, Christmas, means not only Jesus is God. But that God is like Jesus. 

Christmas means God is like Jesus. And what’s God like, then? And you know, it’s hard for us to grasp just how revolutionary this idea is, those of us in the church who’ve heard it over and over. 

Sometimes it takes an outsider for us to hear it with fresh ears. 

Recently, my wife Cheyenne and I were watching former Saturday Night Live cast member Jenny Slate’s Netflix special. If you don’t know, Slate is a stand up comedian who is also Jewish. But in the special she relates her visit to a Catholic Church on Christmas. Here’s how she describes it: 

I recently went to a midnight Catholic Mass…  Went to this midnight mass, walked into the church, which first of all to me was like a miracle — I thought that, like, a doily that was also a spiderweb would come down and be like, Not you! and I’d be like, I know, sorry, excuse me, sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking… I went into this place, and it was like holy [cow], churches are just beautiful little castles for God, this is gorgeous. 

But everyone in there was like dressed in red and green, and then the guys came out—the priests—and they had incense and they’re like whoaa yeahh [swinging incense]. Everyone’s dressed up, and they sing the songs, and weirdly I knew some of the songs, because they’re, like, in our culture, but even when I didn’t really know the words, I could still be like oooooh [pretending] and everyone was like yeah! It was just like the best mood. The Christians are in the best moods. I was just like, aw man, this is so annoying. Like, their God got killed as a hunk, and they’re not even upset. And he’s like, no, I don’t want to stress you out, don’t worry about it. My body’s a cracker, nom nom. Drink my blood, it’s wine. This is a party… The Christmas songs, and thinking about it, they’re all just like, jingle jangle, everybody gets a present, Santa comes down but he never catches on fire, we don’t know how it happens, everything’s fine. We’re never worried, that’s not in our culture [i]

Now, obviously, not everyone’s church experience goes like this. And not every church is like this. And certainly, Christians often seem like the most worried people in our society. But I believe that—as an outsider—Slate was able to experience the truth of the gospel in ways we sometimes forget, misunderstand, or manage to mangle.  

Rather than a giant doily spider web falling on her blocking her way as the wrong sort of person she was welcomed as she was. And what she found was a whole bunch of people singing joyfully about a God of mercy and forgiveness, even to those who murdered him—“I don’t want to stress you out,” this God says. “Don’t worry about it.” This God offers up his very body and blood in a banquet of love. “The glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.” And “From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.” Jingle-jangle… everybody gets a present.  

Even if she didn’t know she was experiencing it, Slate got a glimpse of what the God who is like Jesus is like. “No one has seen God,” says John. But Slate certainly came close, because this is how God comes close. Grace upon grace upon grace. Jingle-jangle… everybody gets a present. This is a party where everyone’s invited. Saints and sinners alike. 

So, this blessed Christmas morning, I pray we each take the Words of St. John and our friend Jenny Slate to heart. 

Christmas means that there is not only is there a God, but this God is personal. This God has come in the flesh reveal, this God is personal like Jesus. And since this God is like Jesus, it means we’re not abandoned to the forces of fate or karma. Nor are we the objects of anger and hostility. But it means that we are loved truly, fully, and unconditionally without regard to our earning it. It means that all of our sins and transgressions are forgiven—truly forgiven—and we are not enslaved to our past or the powers that be. But the moral arc of the universe bends towards justice for those who suffer, transformation for those who do the hurting, and a never-ending joy for all of creation. 

A party where everyone’s invited. Grace upon grace upon grace. Jingle-jangle… everybody gets a present.  

Christmas means God is like Jesus. And that means everybody gets a present. What will you do with yours? 

AMEN.

[i] Inspired entirely by C.J. Green’s piece on Mockingbird.org J. Green’s piece here https://mbird.com/2019/12/jenny-slate-went-to-midnight-mass-and-experienced-the-gospel/