1999/2000
Andrea Harrison
Gospel Readings: Luke 2:1-20, Matthew 1:18-25
Can you imagine what it would be like to have no stories about Jesus’ conception and birth? Imagine if the Gospel of Matthew had no story about an angel visiting Joseph, or wise men coming to see the holy family; or if the gospel of Luke did not contain the stories we heard this morning, or the story of the journey to Bethlehem, or of angels appearing to shepherds. Wouldn’t it be awful if these two gospels just began like the Gospel of Mark, with Jesus, as an adult already, meeting John the Baptist; or if they began like the Gospel of John, with theology about Jesus being in the beginning with God, but with no actual birth story?
I’m so glad that Matthew and Luke put these stories in their gospels, and that the editors of the Bible included these two gospels. The infancy narratives are delightful stories that bring enchantment into our everyday lives. They also tell us something about God, in terms of how God chose to reveal Godself.
In interreligious dialogue, the Buddha and the Christ are often compared, both being founders of world religions, and being revelations of God. (Thich Nhat Hanh, Living Buddha, Living Christ, Riverhead Books, 1995) The Buddha began his life as a person of the world. His name was Siddhartha Gautama, and he was born around 560 B.C. in northern India, near the border with Nepal. "His father was a king, but as India was not then united, it would be more accurate to think of him as a feudal lord with the environment he provided for his son not unlike that of a Scottish castle in the Middle Ages. … By the standards of his day his upbringing was luxurious. [He] wore garments of silk and [his] attendants held a white umbrella over [him].
"When Siddhartha was born, so the story runs, his father summoned fortunetellers to find out what the future held for his heir. All agreed that this was no usual child. His career, however, was crossed with one basic ambiguity. If he remained with the world he would unify India and become her greatest conqueror … a Universal King. If, on the other hand, he forsook the world he would become not a king but a world redeemer." (Huston Smith, The Religions of Man, Harper & Row 1986)
Siddhartha walked away from his wealth and status, in spite of his father’s efforts to direct him towards kingship. Siddhartha’s journey in search of enlightenment, contained some peril, but did bring him to a point of Great Awakening, where he became the Buddha. He spent the rest of his life teaching and guiding others, helping them to glimpse and live out something of the profound reality into which his own life had become immersed. I see God as choosing to reveal Godself through the Buddha.
Now, I tell the Buddha story as a contrast to the infancy stories of Jesus. The Buddha was born in a palace, amidst wealth, and a healthy, safe environment. Jesus was born in a stable, a hillside cave to shelter animals, at the end of a precarious journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem.
Now that I’ve given birth to a baby myself, I have a whole different perspective on this birth story. I was 34 when Samuel was born. Mary would have been no more than half my age. I had the support of Bill, to whom I had been married for 7½ years. Mary had the support of Joseph, a man to whom she was betrothed, but with whom she had only lived for a very short while.
I had excellent pre-natal care by midwives. Mary would also have been helped by midwives. Perhaps there were midwives in that group that travelled to Bethlehem, or perhaps the innkeeper’s wife found her a midwife. Maybe Joseph’s mother was their to help, but perhaps not, as life expectancy was short, and women often died in childbirth.
Like Mary, I was hoping to give birth to my baby at home. After 24 hours of labour, however, I chose to go to the Riverside Hospital in Ottawa, and was driven there in the comfort of a car.
Mary had no choice about making a journey. There was a census to be taken, by order of the Emperor, and she had to make that journey to Bethlehem. When did the contractions start? It’s one thing to have contractions while on a car journey, but another thing to have them while riding on a donkey, or walking from inn to inn looking for a place to stay.
When I arrived at my destination in Ottawa, I was wheeled into a private, sanitary room. I was given an IV to replenish my fluids, and an epidural that did a wonderful job in eliminating the pain. I asked for a face cloth, so that I could wash up a bit, and the nurse who was caring for me gave me a bed bath.
When Mary arrived at her destination, she had to give birth in a stable – an unsanitary place in an unfamiliar town. Who was there to bring her fresh water? To help make her comfortable? To reassure her?
When I gave birth to Samuel, Bill was with me, helping me, as he had been since the first contraction. We also had the services of nurses, a resident, and an obstetrician. When Samuel was born, he was in distress, and needed chest compression to get his heart going, and ventilation to get him breathing. The resident did the chest compression to the count of my nurse, and under the supervision of the obstetrician. Another nurse, who was an instructor in infant ventilation, got him breathing. He rallied quickly, but spent the night in an isolet in the nursery.
What was it like when Jesus was born? Both Mary and Jesus would have been at high risk of dying that night in the stable. Why would God choose to come into the world in such a precarious way?
After we got home with Samuel, what struck me was how totally dependent and vulnerable he was. Without us caring for him, he could not survive.
Why would God choose this course of entry into our world? How could God take on a role of being so totally vulnerable and dependent on humans? Why not skip the baby stage, and burst through in revelation to a healthy, grown adult, as God did with Siddhartha Gautama? Or why not at least choose a family who was living in safe and comfortable conditions, with ready means to care for a baby?
Perhaps God had a point, or even many points, to make.
The world then, not unlike the world now, was full of problems, and the people wanted big solutions – perhaps a saviour king who would make everything right, a superman to save the day.
What was God’s response? – No superman, no king, just a tiny, vulnerable baby, who, given the odds, could easily have died before term, at birth or in infancy. God came into the world in a way that required the care of people. God needed Mary and Joseph, a donkey, an innkeeper, a midwife, people to get food, water, blankets. God needed to nurse at Mary’s breast, or God, in the form of the baby Jesus, would die. God needed a family and a caring community.
Perhaps partnership and interdependency is what God is all about. Perhaps God is telling us that God will only work with and through we ordinary people, that there will be no divine conquests, or big solutions.
God was born into humanity in a stable, in a shelter for animals. Now we know what substances one finds in a barn – a little messy, a little smelly. So when we think our lives aren’t holy enough for God to live in us, or we think our lives are too messy for God to get involved, we just have to remember, that God, in Christ was born in a stable, in the presence of animals, feed, hay, and excrement. No situation is too messy for God!
Whether we live in mansions, slum housing, or on the streets; whether we are alcoholic, or wearing diapers in a nursing home; whether our families are intact or falling apart; God will willingly be born in the midst of our lives.
As you spend time this Christmas with people that you love, and the people of your community, take time to look into each other’s eyes and see the presence of God that is born into each one of us. Amen.
