'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.
There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.
He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.
And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth.'
--John 1: 1-14
No manger. No cattle or their shepherds. No Mary or Jospeh. Not even a star. Christmas morning greets us not with the familiar trappings and trimmings of that all-too-familiar story. What we have is the Word. In the beginning. The same three words that introduce the story way back in the Book of Genesis, announce the start of the Good News proclaimed by John, son of Zebedee. Only now, instead of the lifeless void of darkness, there is the Word. Capital W. Or Λόγος in Greek. Capital Lamda. The very Word of God that existed before existence itself. Coming into the world.
The nature of this Word is reconciliation and all-encompassing love, made known in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth. Love came down at Christmas, says the old song, manifested in the belly of a teenage girl, and was given form and flesh and feeling. In his life, death, and resurrection, Jesus showed people this way of being, the way of love, so much so that those who followed his teachings would be called the followers of his Way. And folks would know that they were part of this Way by their love, by their love; yes, folks would know that they were part of this Way by their love. If this is true, then it would stand to reason that love would describe the state of things in any place where followers of the Way, disciples of this Word, live, work, and worship, right? Right?
Back in 2011 a fight broke out at the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem on the Eve of the Orthodox celebration of Christmas in early January. This huge basilica is shared by three different Christian groups – Western Catholics, Armenian Orthodox, and Greek Orthodox – each with their own “territory.” As the story goes, monks and priests from one of the Orthodox groups – they both blamed each other – swept some debris into the territory of the other, prompting shouting and the eventual swinging of brooms at one another. I’d like you to let that image sink in: monks and priests fought one another with brooms on Christmas Eve in the church where Jesus was born. It was quite a scene, man, and if you want to be both entertained and slightly disturbed at the same time, I recommend you do a YouTube search for the video proof. How sad that is, and yet, such is the world God chose to be born into. Such is the very flesh that the Word became.
Clerics fight each other with brooms at the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem.
It is not easy to live in and by and for this Word spoken into existence on behalf of us all. We try but it can feel so daunting when we picture images like those clerics in Bethlehem, or the various kinds of in-fighting seen in houses of worship bearing Jesus’ name. And yet, that’s exactly where Jesus is, standing in the midst of that insanity, with hands of grace and mercy open wide. So what does it mean for us that the Word became flesh, one of us, all of us? Do we see him now in all his distressing disguises – rich and poor; ashamed and proud; addicted and in recovery; in prison and on the streets; inside the church and walking away; sweeping the floor and swinging at a cleric? If Christmas teaches us anything, it’s that God shows up when we don’t expect it and in ways we often cannot fully comprehend until the moment is long passed.
Writer Madeline L’Engle sums up her answer to the question – What does it mean that the Word became flesh? – in her poem First Coming. She writes:
"He did not wait until the world was ready,
Till men and nations were at peace.
He came when the Heavens were unsteady,
And prisoners cried out for release.
He did not wait for the perfect time.
He came when the need was deep and great.
He dined with sinners in all their grime,
Turned water into wine.
He did not wait till hearts were pure.
In joy he came to a tarnished world of sin and doubt.
To a world like ours, of anguished shame
He came to a world which did not mesh,
To heal its tangles, shield its scorn.
In the Mystery of the Word made Flesh
The Maker of the stars was born.
We cannot wait till the world is sane
To raise our songs with joyful voice,
For to share our grief, to touch our pain,
He came with Love: Rejoice! Rejoice!"
We can always count on Christmas to come, but every year it seems to buck our expectations. The same was true when the Word became flesh. Every expectation was shattered. Divinity was born where the world feels most unworthy, into poverty rather than splendor. So maybe ours is not to reason why, nor to have expectations of our own, but to simply meet the Infinite who has folded himself into our finite nature and love him. Love him by extending grace and forgiveness and healing to all, even the undeserving. Love him by daring to go into the darkest corners of ourselves and letting his light shine on the parts that we wish we could hide away. Love him with the love he had for us when the Word became flesh, and the flesh was not ashamed.
