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Sermon - December 24th, 2009
The Glorious Impossible
Rev. Gwen Drake
Scripture: Proverbs 22:9; 1 Timothy 6:17-19
Dramatic Readings
Character: Mary Object: Swaddling Cloth
I don’t know if I feel sad or excited? I don’t know if I should run and hide, or run and tell my mother. O my! How am I going to tell Joseph? This is not good news. This is not how it is suppose to happen. Not even close!
Hey! This is impossible! Who’s going to believe me? What’s going to happen to me? Is this really happening?
Maybe that angel took a wrong turn, went to the wrong house. I’m just a peasant girl—nobody special. Could there be such a thing as a mixed-up angel?
Or, maybe it’s all in my imagination and none of it is true. I just made it all up in my head. After all, angels don’t visit girls. I don’t remember any stories about angels talking to women. Abraham, Jacob, Daniel, there’s lots of men, just men. So… it couldn’t have happened. No way. It was just wishful thinking….or….oh my! I wouldn’t wish this on anyone! What’s going to happen to me? I could be stoned to death for adultery! The best thing that could happen is I am thrown out of the house into the street.
O my God! What were you thinking? What are you doing to me? Is this going to mean trouble? This isn’t really what I had in mind for my life, you know! God! Do YOU know what you are doing?
Of course God knows, what am I thinking? Get a grip on yourself, Mary. Let me think this through. An angel said I was going to have a baby. The baby. The one everyone has been waiting for. A holy child. Not only me—my relative Elizabeth, too. Our first. It’s a miracle. It’s a glorious miracle.
No…it’s not possible. Could it be? What did the angel say? For nothing will be impossible with God? Glorious! ……Impossible!
(Lay swaddling cloth in the manger.)
Character: Elizabeth Object: Shawl
I wonder if Mary knows, I mean, really knows. Does she know who her son is going to be? And how blessed she is? She is so young. She doesn’t even know the ways of the world yet….yet…there is something telling me that her heart knows. Such a plain and simple peasant woman is my Mary. She carries herself like royalty, I can see that. Yes, she knows. She knows she carries the holy child.
There is something else in her eyes. I saw just a glimpse of it. Like it was a burden or a sadness. Not for herself. No, that’s not my Mary. She would never feel sad for herself.
Maybe it’s a sadness for her child. Yes, that must be it. Because I feel it myself, for my own son. We both carry special sons. We were both chosen by God. That’s a blessing. Especially for me. I’m not as old as Sarah was but I’m too old to be having children. I thought it was impossible. My husband was shocked, so shocked he hasn’t said a word since. Not as long as I’ve know my dear Zechariah have I known him to be without words! Can you imagine a speechless priest? Oh my…I do believe God has a sense of humor!
About the sadness, though. It’s this heavy feeling. Mary and I both know the responsibility our sons are going to have. We know the world is not kind to prophets. We fear for our children’s lives! We already feel what they are going to feel—the pain of rejection, of ridicule.
Yet, I also feel something else in the midst of the sadness and pain. I believe it is joy—an overwhelming warmth of joy. As if, out of pain comes joy. Divine joy. As I say this, I feel my heart bursting with joy, glorious joy….even knowing what I know. Oh what joy!!!
You know what else? This sounds a little crazy. I’ll tell you anyway, people think I’m crazy anyway, having a child at my age. When I saw Mary and heard her voice, I am sure my child, in my womb, jumped for joy. It sounds impossible, I know. It was as if my unborn son recognized Mary’s voice and knew. I wonder…. I just wonder.
Zech! Zechariah! I’ve got something to tell you. You are not going to believe this!
(Elizabeth drops the shawl and hurries off the stage.)
Character: The Inn Keeper Object: Bag of Coins
I did all I could. I know I did. What else could I have done? All the beds were taken. They came so late. There was no room. I had no choice. What did they expect? Me to give them my own bed? Actually, that’s what bothers me so much. They were quite happy to sleep where I keep the animals. They look so relieved…so tired. And the woman was in so much pain. I’m sure they couldn’t have gone another step even if I had offered them my own bed.
So why am I still fretting about it? I should be counting this money. This census the government ordered has been great for business. I am sure I made a bundle. My inn is full…every bed. That hasn’t happened for a long time.
I just don’t feel like counting up my money like I usually do. I keep thinking about that young couple from Nazareth. I’m sure the baby has come by now. Should I go out and check? Why should check? They are no concern to me. Something keeps nagging at me. I don’t know what it is. I don’t know why. They are just ordinary folks. Peasant folks. I was going to send them to my cousin across town, except the woman looked like she was going to give birth right there on my doorstep. Something inside me said, in the stable, there’s room in the stable.
Maybe I’ll just step outside and see if I can see anything. From a distance. They won’t notice. I just want to see if they are all right. Then maybe I’ll be able to sleep, or at least count my money. Or something! ….besides worrying about them.
Such a strange night! I don’t even remember the faces of anyone else staying at my inn. I can’t get their faces out of my mind. There was something special about them.
That’s impossible! They were ordinary people. If they were that special, I wouldn’t have put them out with the animals. I guess I’ll just step outside and see if I can see something… anything. It’ll just take a second. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do…
(Set the bag of coins down. Step off the stage.)
Character: The Shepherd Object: Shepherd’s Crook
(Rush in like you are late.)
Hey! Where is everyone? Would someone please tell me what’s going on? I found the lost lamb! What were those angels doing here? What were they singing? I could hear some of it. Something about a baby in Bethlehem and good news. How can a baby in Bethlehem be good news?
He’s our Savior? He’s the Messiah? They said that? You believe them? Are you sure? How can you be sure? And why, of all people, did the angels tell us? Did someone tell them who we are? We are shepherds. We are usually the last to know. No one tells us anything. We are too busy protecting the sheep, finding lost sheep, tending the flock. The only time we get any news is when one of us goes to the market to get supplies.
I’m sorry, this isn’t making any sense to me. You said the angel said, “I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people.” It sounds like we are the first to know!
Is this some kind of joke on us? If it isn’t, I think I just might like this savior. No one thinks of telling us at all, let alone first. It’s a miracle. Maybe it’s even true. This new baby in Bethlehem has come to save us all—and the shepherds first. Us, ordinary shepherds, way out here by ourselves—first instead of last.
Can it be? It sounds too good to be true. Yet…I can still hear the angels singing. They sound real—it must be true.
Hey!! Can I go? Can I go see the baby? Hey, you guys…I want to go too…wait for me…I’m coming too….
(The shepherd leaves the shepherds crook and hurries off the stage.)
Character: Joseph Object: Baby Jesus in the Manger
What is happening to me? Is this really what the angel promised? It sure doesn’t feel like a promise? Feels like I’m living a nightmare! It’s chaos! First, Mary tells me she is going to have a baby when…well…you know... And now the baby is born in a stable! The baby couldn’t have come at a worse time. It isn’t at all the way I planned it. Nothing is the way I planned it. In fact, I’m beginning to wonder why I am here at all. Who needs me, anyway?
And then, shepherds came to see the baby. Shepherds! They said angels told them to come. They all came right in, smelling like, well, you know, sheep! Not a pleasant smell, I tell you. The stable was bad enough without those shepherds. I can hardly wait to get back to my wood shop. I love the smell of my wood shop! I was glad when the shepherds left.
This is not what I expected at all when I asked for Mary’s hand. I was really hoping to live a simple carpenter’s life. Now, I have this baby to take care of. Not an ordinary baby either. A child whom the angels call Emmanuel, “God with us.”
Could this little baby really be the Messiah? How can this little baby, born into Mary’s and my life possibly save the world? We aren’t anyone special. Shouldn’t the Messiah be a King’s son. Or at the least the son of a priest or someone who knows about these things. Why us, God? Why me? Why am I part of this plan of yours?
(Move to manger, and look at the baby.)
Look at him. He is so small, so helpless, so, well, human, and so fragile. He’s only a baby. He needs his mother. He needs us. He needs me. This little baby savior needs Mary and me. Could it be the God, the all-powerful, really does need us? Is that the meaning of this baby? Surely God has the power to come any way that God wants. As a helpless baby? A little baby who is dependent upon us for everything? Why?
This is hard…hard to put into words. I look at this little child and I feel something. He is simple, so very common, lying in that manger. Yet, I believe there is something holy lying in the hay. Not only that, I really feel he is the hope of the world. Hard to believe. Impossible. This is not possible. Not for Mary and me. We can’t do it. Wait…. The angel said, for with God nothing is impossible. Nothing.
(Kneel before manger)
You see….my…my son, possible things are easy to believe. It is the glorious impossibles that are worth believing in. You, my son, are what fills my heart with love. You give me hope. You give me a song to sing. You are the Glorious Impossible, my son. You are my savior, my little Jesus.