Sermon Notes from December 26th
In the year 1913, the noted journalist, essayist, critic, and humorist, G.K. Chesterton, wrote a poem about Christmastide. He called the poem, “The House of Christmas,” and in it, he meditates upon a central mystery of the Nativity of Jesus. Chesterton describes the world around us as a place where, “men are homesick in their homes, And strangers under the sun, And they lay on their heads in a foreign land. Whenever the day is done.” No matter where a person wandered or settled, they were “homesick in their homes.” They were missing something. They were longing for something. Until into the world comes a blessed young woman, a courageous and trusting man, and to them - and to the whole world - is born a homeless baby in whom all the world would find their home. The poem continues: “A Child in a foul stable, Where the beasts feed and foam; Only where He was homeless. Are you and I at home;
To an open house in the evening
Home shall men come,
To an older place than Eden
And a taller town than Rome.
To the end of the way of the wandering star,
To the things that cannot be and that are,
To the place where God was homeless
And all men are at home.
The Gospel from Christmas Day and from today, this first Sunday of Christmas, finds Saint John declaring the words so familiar to us in the prayers of the Angelus: “And the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us.” In the birth of Jesus, God makes his home among us. As the Holy Family searched for a place to rest and welcome their newborn Son, in their “homelessness,” they in fact made God a home.
But there is another powerful reality here in this mystery of God making a home among us. Because while God indeed made the world his home, the Nativity also reveals to each of us where our own home truly is. “Men were homesick in their homes,” as the poem says, until this precious and holy child was given for us to find our dwelling place.
Christmas is a particularly good time to come home. That home is alongside the manger, drawn close to the heart of Christ. This is not merely an exercise in contemplation, but a profound way of experiencing life as a person in this strange, often darkened world. Perhaps you have been blessed with a place you love deeply and a family who welcomes you. It is Jesus who prepares the table there. Or perhaps you dread that apparently simple question: “where is home for you?” Perhaps your home was a lonely place or a dangerous one. Perhaps you are not sure where “home” really is. It is Jesus who prepares a place for you.
When we begin to recognize that Christ is our true home, the world itself seems to change around us. A home in Christ is a different, miraculous sort of home, already full of all the things that the world tells us we must earn or steal or deserve and absent any of the fear that we might not belong. It is a place of goodness, light, and freedom, and at Christmas, we are presented with the keys.
The heart of Jesus is a secure place. There is no need to defend it. There is no need to fear for our safety. His strength is steadfast and unchangeable. His love is the strong tower of righteousness. In our world that so constantly insists that we protect ourselves, our true home is eternal and abiding safety.
The Body of Christ is an abundant Body whose nourishment knows no need. There is always more. There is always enough. There is no need to ration the Body of Christ or to hoard it or to go without. No matter the depth of the hunger, the Body of Christ meets it with plenty. The table extends to the ends of the earth. There is always a place for a guest. There is always a plate for the poor. There is always a place for you.
The dignity of Christ is the very dignity of God, and it covers each one of us, made in his image. At home in Christ, our bodies are cared for, our spirits are cherished. We are each crowned with the dignity of the Savior and there is no privileging of power or gender or race or ability. We walk through the halls of this home with our heads held high, faces turned toward the light. Our home is a place where dignity is our birthright, and even those who the world has rejected are given places of beauty around the throne.
Our home in Christ is a place of companionship. He is our savior, redeemer, and yes, our friend. The friendship of Jesus is no ordinary fellowship. He lives alongside us, a confidante and guide. His hand is in ours. His heart is opened and always opening to us, soothing our uncertainties and making our paths a place of peace. His company is unconditional love. And in our fellowship with him, we are given a beloved family. We are never alone, but instead find ourselves alongside centuries of saints, both departed and among us. Our friends in Christ, who may of course be only human like us, and yet in our home together, there is always more compassion, more forgiveness, more grace.
The Word was made flesh and dwelt among us. And we dwell alongside him. We are invited to come home at Christmas. To security, to abundance, to dignity, to friendship. To the One who, when the world was homesick, invited us in.
Preached by Mother Brit Frazier
Christmas I 2021
Saint Mark’s, Locust Street, Philadelphia