Christmas 2020 Fr. Lawrence Margitich

Today's the day which we, anybody that's got

a pulpit, is going to say things like that probably.

To look back at 2020 and wring our hands. There

are plenty of examples of difficulties, but that's

not what I'm going to do. Yes, I'm sad in some

ways, but that can't... overshadow, it can't

eclipse the joy of the day. I remember when I

first came to Santa Rosa as choir director, Christmas

1985 it would have been, I'd been preparing since

October. And the choir, just building a choir,

there was not really a choir at the time. We

practiced, we practiced, we practiced. Much more

than these dear women had to practice because

they've got it already under their belt. We got

to Christmas Eve service and there was one person

in the congregation. And that person wasn't even

Orthodox. They were just visiting from out of

town. So while this is sad that we can't all

be gathering together because of course our faith

is about the assembly and gathering the fellowship,

that's much sadder. So let's... let's put things

in perspective. I recently read an article about

a woman and her family that drove 750 miles back

in August of 2017 to get the best view of the

total eclipse of the sun. They went from Pennsylvania

to St. Louis. And when the eclipse happened,

the family was in a park in St. Louis. The woman

the wife, the mother of the family, wrote this.

She said that the world darkened, the stars peaked

in the sky, people cheered, the last sliver of

sun vanished, and for a moment there was a diamond

ring in the sky, a black hole ringed with white

fire. An elderly black woman, threw up her hands

and said, praise be to Jesus. Praise be to Jesus,

she cried. She said, thank you, Lord, for letting

us see this. You didn't have to do this, she

said. You didn't have to make it so beautiful.

The wonder and amazement there in the natural

beauty, that phenomenon, rare as it might be.

Imagine, brothers and sisters, that night in

Bethlehem. Imagine the wonder, the joy, the divine

fear. Not at a symphony playing carols, but the

angels, the multitude of them singing, and the

humble God in a feeding trough. The creator of

all things. the one who managed that eclipse

for the joy of those people and the wonder and

praise of that elderly black woman, in a feeding

trough as a sign of that which was to come, that

now it's not a feeding trough, it's an altar,

and he feeds us. Simple hill country people.

Imagine the angels singing. The awe of the Magi

from Persia bringing their gifts. So first, Christmas.

There's wonder. There's joy, even in sorrow.

There's worship. Here, for us, in this place,

this today is Bethlehem. This altar. is the cave.

Listen to the hymn that we heard recently. Because

this is the source of the joy, what this hymn

tells us. Without this, then what is it? It's

a commercial miracle of our society and a wonderful

Victorian celebration. But no, listen to these

words. The Virgin Mary's womb, is a spiritual

paradise planted with the divine fruit. If we

eat of it, we shall live forever and not die

like Adam. Christ comes to restore the image

which he made in the beginning. Christ comes

to restore the image in us, covered and disfigured.

and sinful. He comes to restore the image which

he made in the beginning. Could it be that we

hear those words about immortality, eating and

living forever, and God's image being restored

in us, shined and enlivened and raised up? Could

it be we let those words quietly pass us by?

Perhaps momentarily, maybe, puzzled, By why we

don't encounter the same depth of wonder and

joy as that hymn writer did. That the shepherds

knew. That the magi experienced. That the saints

before us knew. That those who wrote the Christmas

carols knew. That the folk songwriters knew.

It's not empty hyperbole. It's not exaggeration.

Let me say. Those words stand about, those words,

Christ comes to restore the image which he made

in the beginning, those words stand in judgment

against us. Not judgment to condemn us, but to

set us right, to inspire us, to truly believe

that Jesus Christ, the one born of the Virgin

in Bethlehem, is truly God. Become man. And we

are joined together with him. And as St. Paul

put it in Galatians, you are now children of

God. And the Holy Spirit has been poured into

your heart. In the Holy Spirit, every soul is

quickened and made radiant. And through cleansing

is made radiant and bright. Nothing can dilute

or reduce the power of God to save us or his

presence, his rescue mission for this world.

Nothing in the year 2020. No personal sorrows.

The joy remains in the sorrow. Nothing in 1914,

nothing in 1917, nothing in the ghettos in Poland

in 1939, nothing in the civil rights marches

in the early 60s and late 50s or whenever can

eliminate God from this world now. He is here.

The crucifixion couldn't get rid of him. Herod

couldn't get rid of him. Don't banish the Lord.

Don't eclipse him from your heart. by sin or

forgetfulness or sorrow or frustration or anxiety.

God didn't send someone to tell us something.

That happened in the Old Testament. He himself

came to call upon us and save us. Woe to the

one who thinks he can craft a life free of tribulation

and sorrow. conflict, troubles, and suffering.

It will be the case that we encounter those things

in this life, but not in the next life. The joy

and the wonder and the amazement cannot be something

just found in our senses, but has to be something

within us. The Holy Spirit has been given to

us in our hearts, says St. Paul. And we are children

of God, crying upon him, Abba, Father. So now,

as I said, the manger of Bethlehem has multiplied

across the world into thousands and thousands

of altars. And the infant Jesus in swaddling

clothes awaits us now in a new and radically

incredible way. a humble way also, the holy mysteries

of the Eucharist. So we may be recipients of

that joy and wonder and that humility, knowing

that Christ is God and he is with us to save

us from death, to save us from sin, to bring

us to the Father. I will not try to convey this

joy to you with my words. It is inexpressible

by any words, says St. Theophanes the recluse.

He says, the work that was accomplished by the

Lord who is born touches each one of us. Those

who enter into communion with him receive from

him freedom, healing, peace. They possess all

of this and taste of its sweetness. There is

no reason to say rejoice. to those who experience

this within themselves, for they cannot help

but rejoice. But to those who do not experience

this, why say rejoice? They cannot rejoice. No

matter how many times you say rejoice at your

deliverance to one bound hand and foot, he will

not rejoice. Whence can the joy of healing come

to one who is covered with wounds of sin? How

can one who is threatened by the thunder of God's

wrath breathe freely? There is deliverance. You

say to that person, go to the infant wrapped

in swaddling clothes in the manger, the humble

manger, says St. Theophon, and seek deliverance

from him. From all the evils that encompass you,

for this infant is Jesus Christ our God, the

Savior of the world. Christ is born.