Isaiah 9:2-7
Luke
2:1-20
"Born in A Barn"
A question that I used to
hear when I was a child, was, “were you born in a barn?” This question was asked when one of my
brothers or I left the door open after entering the house. I never really understood the question. As I child, I did not have a lot of
experience about barns, growing up as I did on Florence Blvd. But I did know what the adult asking the
question meant. It meant get up and close the door, idiot.
I looked up the phrase
online recently and learned the ordinary explanation; that barns were left open
so that cows could leave in the morning and come home at night.
There is also a more
historical explanation, that the phrase originally was, "were you born in
Bardney?" Bardney a town in Lincolnshire, England was the site of an
important monastery, Tupholme Abbey. When the king Saint Oswald was killed his
followers tried to bring his bones into the abbey but the monks kept the doors
shut. Afterwards, because the monks had
denied Oswald’s sainthood their penance was to keep their doors open, all the
time. Like a Bucky’s or a Kwik
Shop.
Then there is the ugly
explanation. One dictionary said “Often
phrased as a question when used to characterize a person who is rude, or
displays ignorance and stupidity.” Or as one commentator I looked at wrote, “It
means "corn fed and backseat bred."
After weeks of
preparations, we’ve arrived. Millions
and millions of dollars spent, millions and millions of songs sung, millions
and millions of cookies baked, plans made, gifts wrapped and here were are face
to face with the day itself, the Eve of Christmas, the day we pause to
celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Savior of the World,
born in a barn.
You and I could think of
much better places for the savior of the world to be born. In a palace, in a nice clean hospital, in a
nice clean modest home for that matter!
But according to Luke, great powers had spoken and poor folk like Mary
and Joseph had to make do where they could, even sleeping in a stable, their
little son, born in a barn, corn fed, using a manger for a crib.
We do well to remember
that this night there are poor folk around the world displaced from their
home. In Syria alone, seven million
have been displaced by war. All over
this world and all over this country, men and women and their children are
sleeping in make do places, shelters, too small apartments and homes with
relatives and friends or much worse places.
But this is Christmas
friends; God is born in a barn. Beyond
all the trappings and decorations, the gifts, the traditions, the music, that
is what Christmas is: God becomes one of us, in the least likely place in the
world, in a backwards town in the middle of nowhere; God is born one of us. God
does not just arrive in our midst as a conqueror with an army; God is born to a
simple carpenter and his young wife. In a barn.
In a housing project. In a
shelter. In a transient hotel.
Born in a barn. Just as dirty and disgusting, just as
precious, just as needy and fragile and noisy, as any human baby ever
born. No more or less beautiful than any
child in a young mother’s arms. God
Almighty, born for us. Born as one of us. Emmanuel.
God is with us forever. We are
not alone.
Someone online joked this
week, “What happens in Bethlehem doesn't stay in Bethlehem.” The baby born in the barn, doesn’t stay in
that tiny place, but is everywhere that people are hungry or cold or hated or
unwanted or fearful with the promise of justice and liberation. That baby is
everywhere that people are full and self-satisfied calling them to act with
justice and kindness. God is everywhere,
because God is one of us, part of our DNA, our flesh and blood, our kin. God is with us, forever. We are not alone.
Amen.
