Like many, this time of year conjures up pictures in my head of what the “first Christmas” must have been like. From the nativity scenes in front yards to “Little Drummer Boy” on the radio, it is hard to make it through the holiday season without images of a new born, a proud, loving mother, a doting nervous father, and all the traditional nativity figurines gathered around this family in a semi-circle. I can remember growing up thinking it must have been so much more peaceful back then—no fighting and fussing about what to get uncle Sam or aunt Joey, no last minute runs to the dollar store for more wrapping paper and bows, no stress about how to pay for it all.
If you read Luke’s account of the first Christmas, it was much more horrible and stressful than this. Our problem is, we always want to let Matthew’s account seep into our understanding. Matthew, with his constant confirmation of God’s will through quoting the Old Testament, can hardly let Mary’s body conceive without proof-texting the event with the Scriptures. All the authorities in the ancient world receive signs of the birth of the one who is to be “King of the Jews”—and while Herod’s murderous response to the news no joyous matter, it is nonetheless a stark contrast to Luke’s picture: the “powers that be” neither know nor even recognize the birth at all. To be sure there are still angels announcing the birth—but their message is given not to kings or powerful sooth-sayers from the East, but to shepherds, the lowest of the low in the ancient world-- the ancient equivalent of "the working class."
In Luke there are no lavish presents of gold, frakincense, and myrrh (ironically, even in Matthew’s account all indications are the magi weren’t present for that first night but came later and yet we insist on including them in our nativity scenes). In Luke there are smelly stables complete with live animals, a feeding trough, and no room at the inn. It is also telling that while Joseph is of David’s line, none of the extended family in Bethlehem offer to put Mary and Joseph up, despite Mary’s pregnancy. Heck, even Clark Griswold lets his cousin Eddie (and family) park their RV in his driveway for Christmas. While Mary seems to recognize something important is happening and others are “amazed” at the shepherds’ tails about this child, I think most were reserving their judgment until after the child was taken out of the feeding trough.
Luke does his best to dress this picture up with angels, heavenly lights, and rumors running wild among “the working class; ” however, the center of Luke’s stage is undeniable: a homeless, unmarried couple, the girlfriend pregnant, forced by society and circumstance to give birth and live, for a while, in a barn. This picture certainly does transform the meaning of Christmas, doesn’t it? God could have chosen any stage in any place throughout the entire history of time and space, and this is the time and place God chooses?
Family Promise knows something about homeless families with newborns forced by society and circumstance to live in uninhabitable places. Rather than sitting in the midst of lavish gifts and massive meals for the holidays, perhaps the most accurate way to commemorate the first Christmas is to go spend the night in a house of worship with homeless families. While your local house of worship might not be as bad as a stable, it is certainly an unconventional place to sleep for a week.
So as you pass that well-lit nativity scene in your neighbor’s yard, or you sit down in the midst of your family and friends, belly full from Christmas dinner, if your mind’s eye is tempted to wander back to the scene of the “first Christmas” with fond nostalgia, please take a moment to correct the imagery. Let Luke’s picture of the humble beginnings of the One who would become known as “the Savior of the world” sink into your psyche. Take a moment to remember the families we have in our network, and acknowledge in your heart that it is in their midst that God chooses to break into history.
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