Phillip Fackler Christmas 1 Homily December 29, 2013 Holy Trinity Episcopal Church, Philadelphia

In the beginning was the Word. The Word became flesh and lived among us. With words such as these, the Christmas story continues. The shepherds have returned to the pasture; the angel hosts rest once again in their heavenly home. Joseph and Mary, in their exhaustion and joy, have exited stage left cradling their newborn child. Gone are the animal smells and the sounds of sheep and cattle in the stables. No more scratchy straw or winter wind buffeting creaky wooden walls. Just as it seems that the pageant of Jesus birth has come to an end, just as we begin to put away our programs and gather our coats, just as we ready ourselves to return to the routines of our lives, an old storyteller shambles onto the empty stage, a single spotlight illuminates his lined face. He speaks. In the beginning Just when we thought the story was done, it starts again. This time from the beginning. Not the beginning of Joseph and Marys difficult engagement, not the beginning of Marys scandalous pregnancy, but the Beginning. Before the beginning in fact. Before earth, before the universe, before space and time, the Word already was. God had already been speaking that Word which knits the world together, and in time that Word became flesh. The Word became a human being: bones, muscles, and sinews. Eyes and ears, fingers and toes. The Word became a human being, with heart beating, lungs swelling, and mind soaking up sensations. The Word became a newborn child gasping for its first breath, squeezing shut his eyes to fend off the harsh light of the waking world. As I watch my three-year-old daughter struggle with a particularly difficult zipper or button, refusing to ask for help or even accept it when offered, I am struck again by what a strange story this really is when the Word of God, the creative power of God, becomes human. At bedtime when every last ounce of independence seems to evaporate and she claims complete inability to even lay her head down without parental assistance, I wonder that God would go through this. As my wife and I prepare to welcome a second child, I think back to my daughters own first months and years in the world, the complete dependence of those early moments where she relied on us for her every need. For food, for clothing, for warmth, for everything necessary to keep her body going and growing, she depended on us. But it was for more than that too. She depended on us and others ! "#$%&'(!)!

for all the kinds of stimulation and sensation that helped her learn who she isshe looked into our faces and learned to smile; she rested snuggled in our arms, close to our chest and learned to feel safe; she listened intently as we spoke and sang and thus began the stumbling road to speech and language. In countless ways, she learned from us and others how to become humanin all its variety and complexity and strange familiarity. Certainly in Jesus day and age, the idea of a God becoming human would not have been all that strange. Taverns and town squares were full of stories about the gods taking human form to manage some mischief or to reward some pious soul. But, in those stories, they put on human form like a costume and cast it off just as easily. In the Christian story, when the Word becomes human in Jesus, it does so fully. Taking on our every vulnerability, our inability to control the world no matter how hard we try, our constant dependence on the work and thought and presence of others in order to become who we are. In Jesus, God learns our language in the most literal way possibleby going through the process of human birth and life in which a person learns to speak.1 God doesnt just assume human costume and play-act among us. God becomes truly and fully human, opening herself to learn through human relationship, human need, and human emotion, through all of human experience. Gods creative Word sets aside the trappings of power and knowledge, to become Jesus born of Mary. Birthed, like us, into a world filled with the uncertainty, insecurity, and danger, he opened himself to the world as it is: a place of love between friends and neighbors, a place of fear between ourselves and strangers; a place in which a person will risk their own life to protect someone they dont know, a place where violence is an all too convenient solution to our problems; a place in which human minds cooperate to construct technological wonders, a place in which human competition and scarcity lead us to the brink of self-destruction. In Jesus, God became vulnerable, became open to all this and more. God became vulnerable to all the best and worst of human life, so that we might embrace our vulnerability and open ourselves to the world God wants to give us; so that we might embrace our vulnerability and open ourselves to the world God wants to give us. A world in which strangers are only friends yet to be met, a world in which human difference provokes wonder and delight rather than fear and disgust, a world in which we follow the rough roads of reconciliation rather than perpetuate violence, a world in which we know we have and are enough. How do we embrace our vulnerability? It begins, I think, by being honest and open with ourselves. Christian tradition typically calls this confession, but it is more than some kind of laundry list broken rules. It is an attempt to honestly !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Credit to The Rt. Rev. Jeff Lees 2013 Christmas message to the Diocese of Chicago for this turn of imagery. See http://youtu.be/S5cs0E_1yLI for his brief, beautiful reflection on the Incarnation.

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engage with who and what we are: to recognize our gifts and faults, to begin to be aware of when we let our prejudices or habits lead us into harmful behaviors, to notice all the ways in which we depend on others whether for food or financial support or love. We cultivate vulnerability when we practice being honest with each other as well, with our lovers and our children, with our friends and our parents. By sharing with one another the things that bring us joy, the things that scare us, by voicing our anxiety and the dreams that keep us moving, we share more of ourselves with each other and begin to catch glimpses of that new world God wants to give us. We cultivate vulnerability when we risk rejection in hope of finding new relationships with strangers who cross our path, when we take the time to hear anothers story and to share our own. Such vulnerability most likely wont remake us or our world in a single moment, but it will help us grow each day into that new world God is giving us where we will find union with God and one another in Christ. So take a risk this week be open and honest with yourself or someone else. Listen as someone speaks vulnerably to you. You may just find the beginnings of the Kingdom of Heaven growing inside you. You may just catch a glimpse of Word made Flesh.

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