Coming Down From Heaven

At 2.30 on the dot, I woke from a deep sleep. Startled at the time, I still struggled to get out of my warm bed despite the fact that it was clear to me that I was supposed to see this cosmic event. I did rouse my lazy body and went to my son Jacob's room to wake him. He went outside with me, where we witnessed one of the most beautiful celestial events that I have ever seen. Jake wanted to go back to sleep so I woke up Luke, his older brother. Luke looked at the eclipse for awhile, then he too wanted to go back to bed, so I woke up Max, my youngest and carried him downstairs. He loved the sight but was cold and wanted to return to his warm bed, so I woke my husband, JD, and stood outside marveling with him, until he too asked to go inside. Then I stood out there alone, until my neck hurt.

The sight of that eclipse granted me a moment of pure awe. These kind of moments happen briefly to many of us, when we become overwhelmed with the size of the Universe and our own relative obscurity. It is so powerful, this sense of awe, but it does not last for long. I don't think that our small human brains can stretch that far. We can only contemplate God's greatness for a short period of time before our minds begin to hurt and shrink back to the daily worries and thoughts of our lives.

I remembered how small we human creatures are in comparison with the vast expanse of the Universe. That eclipse was millions of miles away and yet it was considerably closer than most of the rest of outer space. The Universe is vast and we are tiny in comparison. And the God who makes it all, that God is far beyond anything that our tiny brains can fathom.

What does it mean that the God of the Universe, the God of light years, of eclipses and cosmic events, that this vast Creator became a baby? For years I have spoken to congregations about what it means for us to have God do such a thing, to make such a sacrifice. But I have never really asked myself what it must have been like for God, to be so large, so vast and creative and exquisite, and to empty himself/herself/itself of all greatness in order to become helpless. What was it like for God? We can never fully know this for we can never fully know what it is like to be God, but we can catch glimpses of the nature of this sacrifice and of what it took for God to become human.

I caught a glimpse of God's sacrifice in my friend, Margaret. Margaret was a traveler of the world, a lover of art and books. Her husband was in the foreign service and they lived much of their lives abroad. They had never wanted to be encumbered by children, they were free to chose their own destinies, free to live life fully. Margaret loved to read, to listen to music, to paint. Then, at forty years old, Margaret got pregnant.

An amniocentesis revealed that the child had severe developmental disorders. He might die, the doctors said. And if he lives, he will be compromised, very compromised. His life would hardly be life, just a boy who was unable to communicate or even feed himself.

Margaret already loved the child before he was even born. She could not explain why, she just loved him. But her husband did not. Worried about what this would do to his career, he left Margaret for a younger woman.

Margaret had no other family. She gave birth to the baby boy alone in a hospital in New York City. There were complications, many complications. The baby had to have multiple surgeries just to stay alive. He would never walk, never talk. His life-span was shortened. But from the moment that she looked upon him, Margaret felt that she had never seen anyone so beautiful. She changed the course of her life, devoting herself to his care. She did not travel. She was on a tight budget. She spent much of her day cleaning and feeding him. They communicated only in smiles and in touch, for he had no words that he could speak. She was often alone with him.

Margaret gave up her wide open life to give herself to this boy. Her life became small, it revolved around his eating and sleeping habits. She would dress him in the morning and clean him, setting him up in his wheelchair. She would bend down over his wheelchair and speak to him, looking right into his eyes. She would take him for slow walks, the same walks every day, for he loved routine and repetition. He loved to look at the sky, the trees. Anything out of the ordinary scared him so she made sure that they lived very simply and predictably. She played him beautiful music and read to him, hoping that some of it would sink into his soul. She was never sure what was reaching him, what he could hear and understand. She would feed him at the same time every night and put him to bed. When he was just 18 and Margaret just 58, her son died.

Her friends thought that her life was ruined. She spent 18 years tied to an invalid. But Margaret did not see it that way. To this day, she says that he is the best thing that happened to her in her life. He changed her forever. It was her greatest joy.

God chose to limit the Divine self, to move from the vast expanse of space and the beauty of heaven, to be condensed into a tiny human body, helpless and cold, held by his mother. To be burped and fed, cold and hungry, to grow in a body limited by time and space. To walk and talk, breath and eat, to sleep and wake again. And all this was so limiting for the One who created all things.

Scholars believe that Jesus was born in a cave. The shepherds still dig caves to escape the wind among the hills of Bethlehem. We cannot imagine the dirt and stench of such a place, so most Americans prefer to picture Jesus in a little wooden shack, kind of cozy and clean. But he was born in a cave full of animals. He was born in the dirt.

Jesus was not born into some fairy tale, don't be fooled. The night was silent and it was holy but it was not fantasy land. It was holy precisely because it was real. Jesus was born in the heart of the Middle East to a homeless couple who did not know where they were going to eat next. He was born into a land with a dictator who was so paranoid that he would order the slaughter of baby boys. He was born in the messy, painful, beautiful world that WE live in, and nowhere else. Jesus came HERE.

I have never heard of a King who willingly gave up power. I have never heard of a powerful person who gave up power. It goes counter to all that we are taught in this world. Every day we hear of people who earn money, spend money. We see ads where people eat, go on vacation, take care of themselves. Everything in this world is about ME, the supreme Me and how do I take care of myself and what do I deserve. But Margaret loved her son more than she loved her life. God loves us that much, to give up being Creator and become man. God just did it. God condensed the whole Universe, decided that it would be better to live in only three dimensions instead of 300 dimensions. And it was God's joy. That's how much we are loved. It was and it is God's joy to become Incarnation, in the flesh.

Why is it that we think we need to get better, to more holy in order to grow closer to God? Why is it that we feel that we must be well behaved to deserve God's love? There are people who do not come to church because they do not feel worthy. There are people who shy away from God because they feel so small, so petty, so broken. They see this beautiful place, hear this beautiful music and they feel unworthy. Are you one of them? Are you afraid that God will not want you because you are so limited, because you have made so many mistakes?

Don't buy into the myths about Christmas. Christmas is not a perfect time, when everyone gets along. Christmas is not designed for the perfect family with 2 children and a picket fence. It is not reserved for the harmonious and happy. So you don't have to pretend to be someone you are not. Christmas is a miracle that happened in the midst of a mess.

God came to us even though we cannot see clearly and we don't know how to live our lives right. God comes to you and God waits for you. God finds you so beautiful, with all your mistakes and problems and everything. God find you so beautiful.

I looked up at the moon that night and I asked myself, “God, how could you do this for me? How could you leave all that majesty and come down to me? Why me? Why did you come down for me?”

The light shone down as it did that night on the shepherds. And I knew that the answer was so simple, so simple that it is hard to believe.

Because I love you.

- The Very Rev. Kate Moorehead