Both my brother and I enjoy sci-fi in multiple formats. A couple years back he sent me season 1 of Star Trek: Voyager; who knows what’ll be under the tree this year. As TV series go, my favorite is undoubtedly Dr. Who, particularly as played by Tom Baker. Dr. Who is a Time Lord, who travels through time in contraption called the TARDIS, which, due to a long-standing malfunction, has the outward appearance of a blue English police box.
Time travel has been particularly relevant in 2023. Who hasn’t instinctively reached for the fast forward button at multiple points—or perhaps the reverse button. But life doesn’t seem to come with that sort of remote. So 2023 has had more than its fair share of moments in which we might feel stuck.
And, at first, glance, our readings, particularly the first, are not of much help. “…endless peace…He will establish and uphold it / with justice and righteousness / from this time onward and forevermore.” And Isaiah fills out the vision: “they shall beat their swords into plowshares, / and their spears into pruning hooks;” “the wolf shall live with the lamb, / the leopard shall lie down with the kid.” But that’s then and we’re here. Add the devastation that forms the immediate backdrop to Isaiah’s words (“the yoke of their burden, / and the bar across their shoulders, / the rod of their oppressor”) and we have plenty of material for a “Blue Christmas” observance right here.
And yet, Jesus’ birth has something to tell us about this experience of feeling stuck, trapped in the present. For that, we might start with Santa Claus, who started out as St. Nicholas, bishop of Myra (now in Turkey) at the beginning of the 4th century. Nicholas did some of his most important work at night, anonymously distributing food, clothing, and—sometimes—small bags of gold down chimneys to those in need. During the day, he periodically used the full weight of his office to defend the innocent. Eventually the anonymity collapsed and he was honored also in the multiplication of stories about him.
If we wonder what was at the heart of what Nicholas was about, perhaps we could put it like this: he recognized that God invites us to open ourselves so that we become a sort of conduit through which God’s future—the sort of future Isaiah was describing—can flow into the present. He may have been distributing blankets in ad 320, but more than ad 320 was in play.
In this Nicholas was somewhat like Mary, part of whose story we heard in the Gospel. Nine months earlier an angel had appeared to her: would she be the conduit—in a quite literal sense—through which God’s future might arrive? She replied: “Here am I, the servant of the Lord, let it be with me according to your word.” That was one of the high points; it doesn’t take much reading between the lines to recognize the likelihood of low points in the story from the Gospel we just heard: tired after a multi-day journey, giving birth for the first time, far apart from most of the folk she would have liked around her, making do in the manger. The year was—scholars guess—about 4 bc, but much more than 4 bc was in play.
That invitation to open oneself as a conduit through whom God’s future can flow into the present: that’s an invitation extended not just to Nicholas and Mary, but to each one of us. The birth we celebrate today: unique. The divine invitation to cooperate with God in bringing God’s future into our present: that’s a standing invitation. And God nurtures places like St Peter’s where we can learn together how to do that together.
This opening oneself as a conduit through whom God’s future can flow: what more can we say about what it looks like? Well, that’s the question that drives most of what shows up in the “Sermon” slot throughout the year, isn’t it. For now, it’s enough to say that if we’ve gathered together to celebrate Jesus’ birth, just wait till he starts talking, starts acting. May we—please God—keep paying attention, keep learning.
So, time-traveling that leaves our present mostly untouched—that’s probably not in the cards. Opening ourselves as conduits for God’s future to flow into our present: God’s all over that one. Experiencing ourselves as stuck is not the only option. And so we say: Merry Christmas.
With Jacob at Bethel 