There are few things in life more joyful than the birth of a baby: ten tiny fingers, ten tiny toes, little giggles and squirms, maybe even the crying, but definitely that soft sweet smell when you hold that little one close. Tonight, we celebrate the most important birth of our faith story, and gather in the angelic glow around the manger once again, perhaps hoping to get a sense of the magic and wonder and holiness that just seems closer on this night. The story is familiar and warm, painted by Luke as new parents huddle in a stable around a baby in a manger. At the end of the gospel, we see Mary pondering all that is happening, letting the magnitude of this night sink in.
The next step for new parents is often to share the news of their little one’s arrival. Some send text messages or post on Facebook; others connect with photographers for newborn shoots and mail impressively beautiful cards to friends and family. In the case of the birth of Jesus, the angels take this role with royal proclamations sung through the hillsides. Although they didn’t mention his weight and length or exact date of birth, they give a pretty good message. This is Savior and Messiah and Lord. This is no ordinary baby.
The popular song asks “Mary, Did You Know?”, but for those of us who have read the story, we know the answer. Yes. She did. An angel came to her and explained everything that was going to happen. Similarly, one visited Joseph in a dream with a comparable message. Mary knew the significance of what was happening. And I wonder, as I hear Luke’s story again, if in these moments they were finally sinking in. If so, it makes sense that she was ushered into a stillness of contemplation and pondering as the promises of God resonated deeply within her heart. The greatness of her task was lying before her in the manger; the son of God and savior of the world, a vulnerable newborn who roots to nurse and probably doesn’t give many silent nights. What words could possibly be used to describe such juxtaposition? What could she possibly put on a birth announcement?
On a night like tonight, the words of Isaiah 9 provide richness appropriate for the coming of the Savior. Of course, these words were not written with Jesus in mind. The writer of Isaiah did not “predict” the exact circumstances of his birth in Bethlehem. But it is a powerful text, so much so that it has the power to surge beyond its original setting to illuminate and redescribe new situations[i]. It is a text reheard in the gospels and to us today as a disclosure of Jesus’ ministry, speaking of a great reversal coming to the people of God. Isaiah’s words reflect the culmination of the hope of a people in the midst of despair; the coming of a long awaited Messiah and King. One who would give God’s people a future beyond anything they have experienced or even imagined before.
The words read as a birth announcement or royal coronation speech, and make bold assertions about the very nature of God. Hearing them at the foot of the manger allows us to grab hold of the promises of old alongside the good news of the manger, and carry both with us into our present realities. This is about more than just a baby; it is about centuries of a world full of expectation. Isaiah gives four titles for the child born to help us understand the weight of the good news.
This child has been given to be Wonderful Counselor, wise and discerning. John Goldingay describes this as:
an extraordinary counselor or planner. That is, Yahweh is expert at determining what the future should bring and seeing that it does so; and Yahweh is capable of making plans that bring about events that one would never have guessed[ii].
Such a title reminds us of God’s ongoing engagement with the world in real, tangible ways. It reminds us of the promise in Isaiah 7[iii] and Matthew’s gospel of Immanuel, God-with-us.
This child is a Mighty God. These words define strength and reflect that the new king has power. It carries a particular military significance in language, and could even be translated as warrior which further highlights the surprise of the child in the manger.
Next, a reminder of the eternal nature of God – Everlasting Father. This serves as a reminder of the enduring and closeness of the relationship of the savior to us. It is meant to offer comfort and stability, “a massive antidote to anxiety when things seem to be out of control[iv].” Such a reference brings to mind a strong lineage and heritage, one marked by the house of David perhaps, but ultimately is an echo that God is Creator. Later tonight we will proclaim “in the beginning was the Word,” reminding ourselves of the ongoing presence of God in the past that is now in the present, and will continue into the future.
Finally, the child will be a Prince of Peace. An officer of well-being and shalom.
In this context shalom will then include the idea of peace, but the word commonly has the broader meaning of well-being – life as a whole going well[v].
It is not a naïve hope or wish, or some idea of utopia, but a sincere belief that the Savior has power over the world in a way that brings calm to the chaos. It proclaims reconciliation and a time when life comes back into balance yet again. Indeed it becomes a peace that passes all understanding, something that truly can only happen by the grace of God.
Can you imagine, all of these expectations put together for one new ruler? It is a vision of epic proportions, with characteristics coming together to bring about a new way of life, one that is reliable, safe, honest, and life-giving. It is an all-expansive vision, meant to usher in the coming of the kingdom of God. It is a lot to put on a birth announcement. It is a lot to say as we look at the sweet little baby Jesus in the manger. Of course, that might just be the point of it all. Because while he is front and center, this story is about more than just a baby. It is about the Savior, the light of the world, the one in whom all of our hopes and fears reside; the one who comes to us, in the most unlikely of ways, to live among us. This is good news that extends far beyond carols and crèches. Isaiah’s message points us not only to Bethlehem, but to the even bigger picture of the fullness of God’s presence in the world. It reminds us that:
Christmas morning is not a period in the story of Christianity, but a semicolon[vi].
The birth announcement of our Lord is just a punctuation mark to the bigger story of God’s love for us. It gets our attention, peaks our interest, and reminds us of the longing of God’s people to experience God’s presence long ago is our longing, too. The hopes and expectations for God to act in the world in meaningful, revolutionary ways are our desires as well. In the midst of the darkness of this night, we yearn for light to shine. And so we eagerly anticipate the coming of a wonderful counselor, mighty god, everlasting father, and prince of peace. What better place to start than the story of Jesus in the manger. So long as we remember, this is about more than just a baby. Joy to the World! The LORD is born. Amen.
Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
Christmas Eve 2017, 7:00 pm service
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[i] Walter Brueggemann, Isaiah 1-39, Westminster Bible Companion (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1998).
[ii] John Goldingay, Isaiah for Everyone (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015.
[iii] Verses 14-6, and again in 8:8 and 10.
[iv] Walter Brueggemann
[v] John Goldingay.
[vi] Beth Laneel Tanner, “Exegetical Perspective: Isaiah 52:7-10,” Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).
