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December 24, 2008 A Baby Has Changed Your Life“I’ll bet your life is different now.” I’ve heard that line a few times over the last several months. When I have, the most I’ve been able to muster is a simple nod. What else can one say to something so true… something that I knew… but I didn’t really know until I got there… until I experienced it for myself. But they’re right, you know. Anyone who has welcomed a baby into their homes and into their lives knows… a baby will change your life. My husband says that my affect changed immediately once that little girl was placed in my arms. I don’t see it, really. I feel like the same me I’ve always been… maybe just with a better grip on what’s really important… a firmer grasp of who I am… a greater sense of joy and fulfillment. I guess she filled a hole in my heart I wasn’t sure existed. Amazing, really, that a baby will do all that. “A little child shall lead them,” said the prophet Isaiah. I suppose the shepherds tending their flocks by night knew those prophetic words; yet, when the heavens glowed and the angels sang and they were told the good news of a baby, I imagine it still came as a bit of a surprise. It was different from anything they’d ever seen or heard before… different enough to send them scrambling to do what the angel said. Taking their walking sticks and entrusting their sheep to the sudden quiet of the night, they set out. Following some sort of holy glow, they found the one whom the prophets had foretold… the one about whom the angel sang… the one about whom people had said,“he will change your life.” Perhaps as honorable, faithful men this was something they knew, but they didn’t really know until they experienced it for themselves. That moment… the moment the shepherd’s gaze met the eyes of the Christ child… is the moment the artist known as El Greco captures in his painting called “The Adoration of the Shepherds.” If you look at the front of your worship booklet, you’ll see that it wasn’t Mary or Joseph or even the heavenly host that drew me to this particular work. What really strikes me about this masterpiece is the awe and wonder of the shepherds. I imagine they were awed by all the proceedings of this night; yet, when they found the child and their eyes met his, I imagine their affect changed, too. Maybe they didn’t really notice it. After all, they were the same people they’d always been… maybe just with a better grip on what’s really important… a firmer grasp of who they were… a greater sense of joy and fulfillment. My guess is that the child filled a hole in their hearts they weren’t sure even existed. Amazing, isn’t it, that a baby will do all that? 
It’s amazing to me, too, that the shepherd in the foreground… the one kneeling at the manger… bears none other than the face of its artist. El Greco painted himself kneeling at the manger. Like most artists of his day, El Greco knew this story. Yet, I wonder if somehow this painting allowed him to feel part of it like never before. I wonder if the image of himself kneeling at the manger allowed him to hear something new in the old, old story… allowed him to experience something he knew, but didn’t really know until he painted himself among those ordinary folks whose lives would never be the same after this extraordinary night. Amazing, really, that a story… and a painting… and a baby will do all that. But that is the message we hear again tonight. It really is an odd sort of thing that God became flesh and dwelt among us… surprising really… much different than anything else we’ve ever seen or heard. Whether it’s the weight of those words that has sent you scrambling to a place like this… or whether you are here simply by tradition or because you have come with family and friends… you have found your way here. You have entrusted your home to the quiet of this night so that, in the manner of shepherds and tonight’s artist and people throughout the ages, you might hear again St. Luke’s words and the angel’s song and the good news of a baby… you might see again the candlelight and the poinsettias and the holy glow that somehow always graces this night… you might be among those ordinary folk who become part of this extraordinary story because you, too, are kneeling at the manger. If the words and images of this night work on you as I imagine they did on the shepherds… and a 17th Century artist named El Greco… and all manner of people throughout the ages… you may find yourself leaving here just a bit different than you were when you came. Oh… you’ll still be the same person you’ve always been… maybe just with a better grip on what’s really important… a firmer grasp of who you are… a greater sense of joy and fulfillment. You might even find a hole in your heart filled that you didn’t even know existed. This is the kind of thing people have been telling you, I’m sure. But it’s also something you can’t really know until you experience it for yourself. So… tonight… as the shepherds kneel and the angels sing and the story is told once again… tonight as you sense an unmistakably holy glow in this place and in others like it… tonight as you catch a glimpse of Christ on the face of your sister and your brother… all you may be able to muster is a simple nod. That’s about all you can do when the amazing realization hits; a baby has changed your life. Be near me, Lord Jesus, on this night and throughout every night to come. Enliven me with your holy glow, so that I might have a better grip on what’s really important… a firmer grasp on who I am… a greater sense of joy and fulfillment. Empower me to become one of the ordinary people who is different because of this extraordinary night. Amen. |
St. Paul's Lutheran Church § 824 N. Lewis § Waukegan IL |
