This sermon was offered on Christmas Eve night (2023) by the Rev. Canon Beth Tjoflat at St. Mary’s Episcopal Church, Jacksonville, FL. Readings: Isaiah 9:2-7; Titus 2:11-14; Luke 2:1-20; Psalm 96)

May I speak in the name of God,
Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

We are here at last,
ready to celebrate the birth of Jesus.
The incarnation of God,
who loves us so much, he chose to
become like us and live among us.
The desire of his heart is to connect with us,
right where we are.

Just look at who God chooses first to announce
the birth of the Christ child:
Shepherds.

Stinky, ragamuffin shepherds.
Outcasts relegated to spending their days and nights
tending someone else’s livestock.
Not Temple leaders or government muckety mucks.
Certainly not the 1%.

This week I could not stop thinking
about the shepherds.

When the angel appeared to shepherds,
terrifying in its appearance,
larger than life,
probably emitting rays of divine energy,
Throwing off sparks of the source of all creation,
it delivered the most amazing news of all time:
the Messiah has come –
the Savior of the world is here!
“This will be a sign for you: you will find a child
wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.”

The shepherds have been given an assignment,
likely to end in loss of employment,
maybe even resulting in their imprisonment
for failing to keep watch over the livestock
entrusted to them:

Leave your posts.
Go and find the child.
See that what the angel says is true!
These shepherds – these outcasts –
on them, the light shone.

They set out rejoicing as they made
their way to Bethlehem.
They had been invited into the greatest
story of all time.
The good news came to them first.
And off they went.

God reveals himself in our time,
if we will watch and look for the signs.

When we began our Church Without Walls ministry,
it was grounded in a Wednesday morning fellowship,
out back behind Clara White mission.

We would arrive in the dark to brew 500 cups of coffee
(Clara White doesn’t serve coffee with breakfast).
Once the gates opened, we offered deep listening
and prayer for those who desired it.

 One day, as we were setting up, a man whom I did not
recognize called to me from the fence:
“Mother Beth, Mother Beth, can I talk to you?”

I walked over somewhat reluctantly, sure that
he would ask me for something I couldn’t give.
“You know Jimmy?”
(Indeed I did as he was a regular).
Well last night he hurt his hand really badly, and
we can’t get him to go to the hospital.
He trusts you. Could you maybe get him to go?”

There are so many ways the love of Jesus
inhabited that conversation.
This gentle, compassionate man carried
the light of Christ to his friends and to me.

As we look around our community,
we aren’t likely to encounter any shepherds.
But we do encounter those who are relegated to the margins.

Those who are ignored.
Those society renders invisible.

This past week our food pantry and
Christmas Room were hopping.
Many came looking for food and good cheer, and
our volunteers made certain that all were welcome.

We had one visitor who stuck out in particular –
a woman experiencing severe mental illness.
She was very suspicious of us – no doubt a result of
experiencing hostility and rejection
in her day-to-day life on the edge.
Our volunteers and staff were patient and kind,
and helped her navigate our system.

The next day, this same visitor made her way
back to St. Mary’s.
She hung out for quite a while along the fence,
just in front of the church.
She was relaxed, relatively quiet,
and seemingly at peace.

Somehow, she came to know that this is a safe place.
A place of welcome for all people.
She was drawn to the Light of Christ.
To the Love of Christ that she experienced here.

That same light is fueled when we come together,
when we meet at a place of acceptance,
when we allow ourselves to recognize
the holy humanity in each other.

As I drove here this morning, I passed several people,
camped together on a single block of Ocean street.
I come this way daily and may see one or two folks
on the street but never a gathering like this.
I wondered, Could it be a desire for light and love
that brought them together rather than
to go it alone at Christmas?
Possibly.

If the Angel of the Lord were to appear
in this time and this place, I can imagine
it would choose this ramshackle group to receive
its message of hope.

If we can let go of our ideas about who we are –
the carefully constructed scaffolding we build over  
the course of our lives.
If we can let go of our assumptions about the other.
then we are left with the possibility of a simple encounter –
shepherd to shepherd.

In our encounters with one another – and with the other –
the light brightens and takes on a heavenly glow.
Love takes shape.

We make our way forward with the assurance that
God will give us signs when we most need them.
Simple, unexpected, in the everydayness of our lives.

While we celebrate the birth of Jesus,
let us take note that this holy incarnation
is embodied again and again,
in you and me and the stranger we meet along the way.
It can be most apparent in our children.
There is nothing like welcoming a newborn into the family.
The miracle of new life touches a place in our hearts
like nothing else.

The light and love of Christ is revealed
again and again, in the course of
our extraordinary, ordinary lives.
The One who was — and is — and is to come
is in our very midst.
Amen.