Mi 5

I understand that we had a visit from the Grinch last week. I had left the premises to use the restroom and to go outside for some fresh air. However, I noticed what seemed to be a green blur rushing from here which I presume was, indeed, Mr. Grinch!

There is a lesson to be learned from the Grinch. If you recall, he hated Christmas, and he hated the Whos in Who-ville, with their noise and their feasting and their singing. So he planned a pre-emptive strike. He would prevent Christmas from coming by stealing all their presents, all their decorations, all their festive food. However, as you know, he failed in his mission. Christmas still came.

“And the Grinch, with his grinch-feet ice-cold in the snow, / Stood puzzling and puzzling: ‘How could it be so? / ‘It came without ribbons! It came without tags! / ‘It came without packages, boxes or bags!’ / And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore. / Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before! / ‘Maybe Christmas,’ he thought, ‘doesn’t come from a store. / ‘Maybe Christmas…perhaps…means a little bit more!’” A little bit more indeed!

As I was thinking about this business with the Grinch, I was struck by something done by Dwight Friesen, who’s a Christian poet and artist. (By the way, we have poets and artists here! We just need to share our gifts!) He did something called “Food Court Christmas.”[2] The poem and painting are in our worship programs. I want to read his poem:

It’s not terribly surprising if we don’t know “how” or “what” or “who to celebrate.” It’s not terribly surprising—given that our quite noisy culture continually bombards us, saying, “Here’s the perfect gift!” You know, I think the Grinch is on to something with his dislike of noise!

Still, the story about the Grinch is not so much a rant about consumerism. I honestly don’t think he could care less about the commercialization of Christmas. Instead, the Grinch is the embodiment of anti-community. What he hates about Christmas is the spirit of fellowship it engenders among the Whos. It’s been gnawing at him for fifty-three years!

After all, what is it that changes in the story? What happens to bring him around after he has the epiphany I mentioned earlier? “And what happened then…? / Well…in Who-ville they say / That the Grinch’s small heart / Grew three sizes that day!”

It’s only when the Grinch allows his heart to expand that he’s able to participate in the communion of his neighbors. It’s only then that he can experience something of true peace in his life. He demonstrates the fruit of peace in his life by restoring all that he has stolen. I should say: by joyfully restoring all that he’s stolen! From that point on, behaving like the Grinch is a good thing!

The words of the prophet Micah are chosen for this day because they give a picture of that type of reversal. He’s from the eighth century B.C., when the Assyrian Empire is taking over the northern kingdom of Israel. Micah lives in the south, in Judah. It manages to survive the assault by the Assyrians, as we see in the book of Micah’s contemporary, Isaiah.

What’s especially relevant for us right now is his prediction that from Bethlehem (which is in Judah) will come a divinely-ordained ruler. There are clear messianic overtones.

Our scripture reading begins, “But you, O Bethlehem” (v. 2). There’s a contrast to what has gone before. Micah has been lambasting the political and religious leaders for their corruption. And then he pauses for a word of encouragement, like a calm moment in the storm.

From Bethlehem, “one of the little clans of Judah…shall come forth for [the Lord] one who is to rule in Israel” (v. 2). And not only will he rule in Israel, “he shall be great to the ends of the earth” (v. 4). Once before, tiny insignificant Bethlehem was the origin of a great king—David. Once again, in one of those dramatic reversals so frequently proclaimed by the prophets, Bethlehem will be the origin of another great king.

But this is no ordinary king. The Hebrew word in verse 2 for “one who is to rule” (lvewmo, moshel) comes from a word meaning “parable” or “proverb” (lv'm;, mashal). The idea is that this one will rule, not by imposing control—not with an iron fist—but with wisdom. The first line of verse 5 proclaims, “he shall be the one of peace.” Again, Micah joins with his contemporary, Isaiah, who speaks of the “Prince of Peace” (9:6).

This ruler’s power is found in powerlessness. There’s another of those divine, dramatic reversals. But it doesn’t even make sense! What good are you if you don’t crack the whip? Force people to get in line! As Patricia McCarthy says in The Scent of Jasmine, “The Incarnation is all about the impossible becoming possible.”[3]

When we subject the Christmas event to cold, sober analysis, it seems completely absurd. Imagine, if you will, the God beyond all imagining—beyond all conceiving—willing to be conceived! That’s just nuts!

She goes on, “Jesus was a scandal in his time by trying to redeem the world by love alone, without force or violence, without political, economic, or social power. Jesus lived what Micah prophesied. He came as a shepherd to care for his flock. He came to lift up the lowly by being one of them. He came to put down the mighty from their high places by refusing to be one of them.”[4]

In our gospel reading from Luke 1, Mary goes to visit her elderly relative Elizabeth. Both of them have become pregnant under…we’ll say, unusual circumstances. Then we have the Song of Mary, traditionally called the Magnificat.

And Luke places Mary in the best tradition of the prophets, with some of those words of divine reversals. Though she is a lowly servant, “from now on all generations will call [her] blessed” (v. 48). God “has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty” (vv. 52-53).

Keeping all that in mind, there’s a question I need to ask. How long will we in the church believe the lies about Christmas? Maybe I should elaborate.

How long will we believe that Christmas is something that we can, or should, falsify? We market the Prince of Peace. Peace sells. I can’t help but believe that that contributes to the fake sense of community that gets created. There’s a pretend peace, a sham shalom, that emerges. That’s surely one reason why tomorrow will be a “blue Christmas” for a large part of the population.

For those already depressed, contrived images of how happy everyone else is only heightens the contrast. At last Thursday night’s prayer meeting, I mentioned that Banu and I were out somewhere when I heard being funneled through the speakers the Andy Williams song, “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.” The expressions on the people’s faces looked like animals trying to avoid a predator.

Here’s another angle on the lies about Christmas. Do we really believe that we honor our Lord with excess? Many of our brothers and sisters in Christ, here and around the world, haven’t been obsessing over the latest video game or the diamonds with the greatest luster. They would be overjoyed by sturdy shelter or a safe place to sleep.

Mary, the mother of our Lord, knows that kind of concern—as does Joseph. This past week, at the Sacred Space website, this was one of the comments:[5]

“Pictures of the Holy Family look peaceful. Let us remember the heart-breaking crisis they faced in this incident. Quiet, loving Joseph faces the awful questions: Has Mary been unfaithful? Who is the father? Should I divorce her? What will happen to the child? How can I save her from notoriety? He does not panic, but prays, and moves in some bewilderment into a life he had never expected.”

God comes to us in the turmoil of life. Sometimes God’s arrival creates turmoil. To simply dismiss the turmoil that Mary and Joseph experience is to dehumanize them. But as we see, they wouldn’t have it any other way.

The same is true for us. Christmas opens up for us an adventure filled with turmoil and sorrow and joy all wrapped up together. May I—may we all—have the courage and the love and the craziness to say “yes” to all of that. May we say, “Come, Lord Jesus.”

[1] Theodor Seuss Geisel (Dr. Seuss), How the Grinch Stole Christmas (New York: Random House, 1957).

[2] www.dwightfriesen.com/ArtBody-poetry.htm

[3] Patricia McCarthy, The Scent of Jasmine (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1996), 178.

[4] McCarthy, 179.

[5] www.sacredspace.ie