The Word Became Flesh

 Jesu Juva

St. John 1:14                                                          

December 24, 2022

Christmas Eve                                        

Dear saints of our Savior~

          Were you one of those people dreaming of a white Christmas?  If so, I hope you’re happy.  That white stuff on the ground outside actually leads to

my next question: Do you know what’s the most popular Christmas song of all time?  It has nothing to do with Jesus.  The song is “White Christmas,” written by Irving Berlin.  It was released exactly eighty years ago this Christmas, in 1942, during the Second World War.  The song was recorded by Bing Crosby and became an instant hit with the troops overseas.  It made homesick men and boys long for a place where “tree tops glisten and children listen to hear sleigh bells in the snow.”

          Irving Berlin intentionally set out to write a Christmas song that had nothing to do with Christ.  Apparently, Berlin didn’t care for Christmas at all.  For starters, he was Jewish.  But there’s much more to this story.  His life was filled with tragedy.  His first wife died of typhoid only five months after they were married.  His second wife was a Roman Catholic.  Their mixed marriage was a public scandal in those days, reported in all the newspapers.  The first child of this union, Irving Jr., died—died on Christmas Day of what we today call Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.  The Berlins went on to have three girls, for whose sake they put up a tree and exchanged presents each year.  But after the girls were grown and moved out, Irving Berlin never celebrated Christmas again.  It was his famous song—White Christmas—that introduced the concept of Christmas without Christ into the popular culture.

          When Jesus Christ isn’t part of Christmas, there really isn’t much left to celebrate.  When you leave out the baby boy who is God in the flesh, what do you have left?  You might as well say, “Happy holidays.”  You might as well call these days the “Winter Solstice” or the “sparkle season,” or whatever you want.  Because without Christ, there is no Christmas. 

          When it comes to the so-called “war on Christmas,” we may have won it (in a sense), or we’ve at least settled in for a cease fire.  I don’t get upset when store clerks wish me Happy Holidays, or when schools let out for “winter break,” or when the capitol “holiday tree” gets lit.  It’s as if the culture has just given Christmas—the real Christmas—back to us—left it on the front steps of the church with a note that says, “Thanks, but no thanks.  We don’t want this anymore.  You Christians can have your Christmas, and we’ll just be content with our shopping and gluttony and nostalgia.”  The culture has given Christmas back to the church—where we don’t have to trivialize it or water it down. 

          Among us, Christmas can once again be a holy day instead of some generic yearend festival to boost the national economy.  The ball is in our court, so to speak.  So what are we going to do with it?  What do you have when you take away the shopping sprees, the piles of presents, the decorations, the expectations, office parties, eating, baking, boozing, and decorating?  What’s left after eggnog, mistletoe and dreaming of a White Christmas?

          We have one little sentence from St. John:  “The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us.”  That’s why.  That’s why angels sang and shepherds left their flocks in the fields and ran to Bethlehem to worship a baby in a manger.  The Word became flesh.  God became man.  That’s what Mary pondered in her heart.  That’s why Christians from the Third Century on made this night a holy night.  They celebrated the glorious fact that on a magnificent night in Bethlehem, when the fullness of time had come, God delivered on His promise to save the world through His Son.

          The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.  It’s nearly impossible to wrap your brain around that statement.  It means that we can never look at God—or humanity—in the same way again.  God became a man in Christ.  The Creator became a creature.  The infinite God dwells in finite flesh and blood.  This is why Christianity is different—distinct from every other religion.  All other religions have human beings reaching up to God.  Some religions even have humans becoming gods.  But the Christmas gospel declares the opposite:  God became man.  The Word became flesh, and in the flesh He dwells among us full of grace and truth.

          The good news of Christmas is so much better than “rejoice and be merry.”  It goes much deeper than all the sentimentality and nostalgia.  The good news of Christmas is what the angel declared to frightened shepherds:  To you is born this day in the city of David a Savior who is Christ the Lord.  Jesus Christ comes to save us from our sin—to redeem us, not with gold or silver, but with His holy, precious blood and His innocent suffering and death.

          We celebrate our Savior’s birth on December 25^th.  So let’s take that for all it’s worth.  Instead of saying “happy holidays” or even “merry Christmas,” here’s something different.  Try this on for size:  “Christ is born for you.”  You’ve got twelve more days to give that a try.  You can say that to any and all—believer and unbeliever—Jew or gentile.  You can say that because that’s what the angel said.  The Lord’s messenger didn’t say “merry Christmas;” and no one is saved simply because they celebrate Christmas.  “Christ is born for you” is what the angel said.  Unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. 

          It is the best of news—pure gospel.  Christ is your life, your light, your salvation.  If Irving Berlin had believed that, he wouldn’t have had to settle for a shallow, meaningless, white Christmas; his Christmases could have been blessed and joyful.  He could have trusted that his little son was safe—safe in the arms of God’s Son, born for him.  (And this is no less true for those whom you have known and loved—those who have departed this life with faith in Christ:  They are safe—safe and secure in the arms of God’s Son, the Word made flesh, who was born for them.) 

          The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us, full of grace and truth.  Jesus is full of grace—undeserved, unearned kindness for sinners.  So don’t be afraid to come to Him.  Don’t think you’re not good enough to stand before Him.  And don’t think you can bargain or earn your way into His good graces.  He comes to you as you are, to save you from your sins. 

          Jesus is also full of truth.  He is the truth.  He knows the truth.  He knows the truth of your sin—knows it far more keenly than do you.  He knows your faithlessness and your idolatry.  He knows that even as we celebrate His birth tonight, we live many days as if His birth had never happened—as if He were not dwelling among us—as if His commandments and His promises applied to other people, but not to us.  The truth of our sin is hard for us to admit.  But it was even harder for Jesus to shoulder that sin.  That’s the truth of why the Word became flesh—to shoulder your sin as your sacred substitute—to die your death and give you eternal life through His resurrection.

          Jesus is full of grace and truth.  And where meek souls will receive Him still, The dear Christ enters in.  In the water and the Word of your baptism, the dear Christ has already entered your life, and He will never leave you or forsake you.  To those who receive Him in faith—to those who believe on His Name and trust in His work of salvation, He gives us the right to be called “children of God.”  That is what you are.  He comes to us and abides with us in His Word and in His body and blood.  In Jesus alone is the thrill of hope for a world of weary sinners.

          The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us.  That is the essence of Christmas—the Christmas you have when you have Christ.  Christ is born for you!  O come, let us adore Him.  Amen.