Sermon: "Keep the Swaddling Clothes in Christmas," Christmas Eve, December 24, 2024
Depictions of the Christ child in swaddling clothes, various artists
Scripture: Isaiah 9:2-7, Luke 2:1-20
Preacher: Rev. Ryan Slifka
O holy child of Bethlehem,
descend to us, we pray;
cast out our sin, and enter in;
be born in us today.
We hear the Christmas angels
the great glad tidings tell;
O come to us, abide with us,
our Lord Emmanuel. Amen.[i]
Maybe you’ve heard the phrase, or seen a bumper sticker that reads something like “Keep the Christ in Christmas.” Meaning something like “make sure you don’t forget the Christian meaning of the holiday.” Keep Christ in it.
Today’s sermon title is a little variation on that them. This year’s title is “Keep the Swaddling Clothes in Christmas.” Keep the swaddling clothes in Christmas.
We’re told that when Jesus is born, his Mother Mary wraps him in “swaddling clothes” and lays him in a manger. Some other version might say something like “cloth bands,” or a my favourite from a modern translation “snugly strips of cloth.” And really what better image is there than the image is of a newborn? One wrapped nice and cozy in a warm, toasty blanket? One of my favourite things when our kids were that age was the swaddle itself. I loved pinning their little flailing baby hands in a benevolent little straightjacket and just watch them calm down and drift off into sleep. No matter how hard they fought against it. Add a roaring fireplace, Christmas tree and Bing Crosby through the speakers and you have yourself one Merry. Little. Christmas.
The swaddling clothes are symbol of the warmth, and the joy, of the Christmas season. One of the reasons why it’s so appealing.
And yet, for many of us, Christmas can feel like anything but joy and warmth. It can be a time of stress. Trying to create the perfect Christmas for our children, but failing miserably. Disappointing our spouse with a thoughtless, last minute gift yet again. Anticipating our unpayable credit card bills with chewed fingernails and sleepless nights. Then there are those of us who don’t have a roof to sleep under. Those of us who’ve lost someone near and dear, or are disheartened by rising oceans or bombs dropping on the other side of the world. Those of us who are lonely, or are terrorized by the prospect of loneliness, living on the edge of divorce. And those of us who simply aren’t feeling the season. Simply due to the chemicals in our brain.
As lovely as this image is, for a lot of us, Christmas can be anything but swaddling clothes. Anything but a tight, cozy blanket. Anything but a very Merry. Little. Christmas.
Now, if that doesn’t describe you… then great! Christmas is already for you. And I hope and pray this service affirms and strengthens your spirit.
But if it does describe you. Then I’ve got some good news. Christmas is for you, too.
Let’s go back to the swaddling clothes. As lovely as this image is, it’s not all there is to it. Like so many other symbols, the swaddling clothes have other meanings. Ones beyond the literal.
One of these meanings is found in a lot of art. From medieval Christmas paintings to modern Christian icons.
We’ve got a few of these pieces up on the screen for you.[ii]
Now, I like a good, tight swaddle as much as the next guy. But some of these are, I don’t know, more constrictive than I’m comfortable with. And what’s with the skinny cloth? Makes baby Jesus look like he belongs more in an archaeological exhibition on ancient Egypt than a manger in Bethlehem. What’s the deal?
Well, the truth is that it’s not just a poor clothing choice on the part of the artists. There’s a point, and a purpose to painting baby Jesus like this. And it’s based on the idea that the swaddling clothes point us forward in the life of Jesus. All the way to the climax of the story. To his crucifixion, and death on Good Friday.[iii] After Jesus is taken from the cross, he’s wrapped in cloth, and laid in a tomb. In the one on the left you even see the manger is stone.
The great 17th century poet and preacher, John Donne made a similar point when he said that Jesus’ “birth and his death were but one continual act, and his Christmas-day and his Good Friday are but the evening and morning of one and the same day.”[iv] In the swaddling clothes we hear echoes, receive a foreshadowing of his betrayal. His incredible suffering. And his death.
Now, why would these artists go and ruin such a lovely pastoral image like this with something so dark and dreary as this? It’s like Anne Geddes taking her famous pastel photos of bubbly, smiling children with a graveyard in the background. Why?
The reason is us, actually. These artists and poets want us to know that the manger isn’t a self-contained story, but part of a bigger one. And the story is that the Creator of the universe came to us in space and time as one of us. Not just as a beautiful child, but in our full humanity from cradle to the grave. He came not only for the happy and the good, but he especially came for all who lack happiness and goodness. The meek, the poor, the poor in spirit. The beat up, kicked down, and depressed. For those who suffer, and those who others have had to suffer.
Not to say “suck it up,” or “turn that frown upside down,” or give us a lecture. But he came to give us himself. To give us himself.
To give us strength in our weakness. To give us comfort in our loss. To give us hope in our hopelessness, and forgiveness in our sin. To give light in every darkness. Until all darkness is dispelled forever. In him the creator came bundled in our whole broken humanity, so our broken humanity could be wrapped in divine mercy. Forever.
In swaddling Jesus in a death shroud, these artists want us all to know that Christmas isn’t just for the strong, the happy and the holy, but Christmas—indeed, Jesus Christ—is for all of us. Especially those of us who come to the manger with empty hands and broken hearts. The swaddling clothes mean that Christmas is for everyone. Meaning that Christmas is for me. And it’s for you. Not how you oughta be. But as you are. To draw you closer to himself.
I’ll leave you with the words of one last artist.
A contemporary one, the Canadian singer-songwriter Bruce Cockburn. Whose Christmas album is great, by the way. But these words are from a retelling of the Christmas story. “Cry of a Tiny Baby.”
There are others who know about this miracle birth
The humblest of people catch a glimpse of their worth
For it isn't to the palace that the Christ child comes
But to shepherds and street people, hookers and bums
And the message is clear if you've got ears to hear
That forgiveness is given for your guilt and your fear
It's a Christmas gift that you don't have to buy
There's a future shining in a baby's eyes.[v]
May you be given ears to hear. And may this precious gift be yours. May that future shine in your eyes, and beat loud within you, and casting a light in all your darkness.
May you keep the swaddling clothes in Christmas. And every day of the year.
In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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[i] Phillips Brooks, “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” Voices United #64.
[ii] A couple of the images shared were from Giotto: https://www.worldhistory.org/image/12682/the-nativity-by-giotto/ and the Menalogon of Basil: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Menologion_of_Basil_053.jpg
[iii] Though these images make a profound theological point it’s not clear if this is the original intention of the Biblical authors. See Raymond E. Brown, The Birth of the Messiah: A Commentary on the Infancy Narratives in Matthew and Luke (New York: Doubleday, 1979), 399.
[iv] John Donne, Sermon IV, preached at St. Paul’s Cathedral on Christmas Day, 1626. https://www.biblestudytools.com/classics/the-works-of-john-donne-vol-1/sermon-iv/
[v] Bruce Cockburn, “Cry of a Tiny Baby,” Nothing But a Burning Light. Golden Mountain Music Corp., 1991.