The God of Unlikely Places

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Bonnie Muriel Griffith
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1 The God of Unlikely Places In August 1865 an Episcopal priest from Philadelphia by the name of Phillips Brooks embarked upon an extended trip to Europe and the Holy Land. On Christmas Eve Brooks joined in worship at the Church of the Holy Nativity in Bethlehem. The service, which lasted five hours, made an indelible impression on his life. This low church Episcopalian experienced worship as he had never known before. The priests dressed in gold vestments. Incense clouds filled the church. The choir sang chants that dated back over a thousand years. The worship that evening was a glimpse of heaven on earth. When Brooks left the church, he spent some time in reflection on all he had experienced. Although Bethlehem was a plain, ordinary town covered in the night s darkness, Brooks realized that it was there, that the Son of God was born. He captured that insight in a song he wrote three years later as Rector of Holy Trinity, Rittenhouse Square: O Little Town of Bethlehem, with the words, but in the dark streets shineth the everlasting light. Phillips Brooks had it right. There is no place too dark, too small, too ordinary, too troubled or too insignificant where God cannot come. After all, God came to Bethlehem two thousand years ago. There is nothing pretentious or outstanding about Bethlehem. During the time of Jesus, Bethlehem was a little, insignificant town in a third-rate province of the Roman Empire. Nobody bothered with Bethlehem, nobody cared about it. While the town had some historical interest for the Jewish people, it had no commercial or cultural value. And yet, there was this prophecy about Bethlehem that we read in our Old Testament lesson from Micah: But you

2 Bethlehem of Ephrathah, who are one of the little clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from of old, from ancient days (Micah 5:2). From insignificance comes greatness that s what the prophet is saying. Out of ordinary, little Bethlehem will come something so wonderful that it will change the world forever. It s hard to believe, isn t it? It s much like the Wright brothers when they made their flight from Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. As the news of the successful flight spread, a disbelieving cynic said, I don t believe it. Nobody s ever going to fly and if they do it won t be anybody from Dayton, Ohio. Well, 2,000 years ago Bethlehem was the Dayton of its day. Now, 2,000 years later, all eyes are on this town. Pilgrims from all over the world flock to Bethlehem every year to celebrate the birth of Jesus who literally divides history between B.C. and A.D. Certainly the town of Bethlehem was not ready for this earthshaking event. No one expected the Messiah to come to such an unlikely place at such an unlikely time of the year. After all, it was census time. People were too busy being counted. Tax rolls had to be updated. So you can understand why people were not ready for God to come among them. The innkeeper in the city was not ready. His house was full of important people with gold in their purses, so there was no room for a carpenter from Nazareth and his very pregnant wife. King Herod was not ready. His fearful reign could not tolerate the possibility of even a child who might prove a rival for his throne. So fearful and anxious was Herod about this baby that he ordered all the boys in the town under the age of two to be killed, hoping to destroy the newborn king.

3 The religious leaders of the time were not ready. They longed for a Messiah who would come in power and slay the enemy. They were too obsessed with rites and ceremonies, with prestige and position to be concerned about the birth of a child in a stable. Wasn t anybody ready? I wonder. Harriet Richie wrote a story in The Christian Century several years ago about an event that happened on Christmas Eve. She and her family had attended a late-night Solemn Choral Eucharist at one of the most prominent churches in the county. After the Eucharist, the family decided to stop somewhere for a late-night breakfast, but the only place open that late on Christmas Eve was a truck stop at a nearby interstate junction. A few big diesels rumbled outside. Inside a few truckers sat at the counter. A jukebox was playing country music, and the song went something like this: When you leave, walk on backwards so I ll think you re coming in. On the front window were a few multicolored blinking lights. The place smelled like bacon grease and stale cigarette smoke. A one-armed man stood behind the counter. The family squeezed into a booth. A thin waitress named Rita came over. She managed a weary smile and handed them their menus. Harriet looked around. She felt a little bit like a snob out of place. Her family had just come from a beautiful and very formal Christmas Eve service. And soon they would be heading to their stately home for the night. She thought that one day they would look back with a laugh and say to each other: Remember the Christmas we ate breakfast at that truck stop with that awful music and those tacky lights? She was staring out the window when an old Volkswagen van drove up. A young man with a beard and wearing jeans got out.

4 He walked around and opened the door for a young woman who was holding a baby. They hurried inside and took a booth nearby. When Rita the waitress took their order, the baby began to cry and neither of the young parents could quiet him. Rita reached over and held out her arms. Sit down and drink your coffee, hon, let me see what I can do. It was evident that Rita had done this before with her own children. She began talking and walking around the place. She showed the baby to one of the truckers who began whistling and making funny faces. The baby stopped crying. She showed the baby the blinking lights on the window and the lights on the jukebox. She brought the baby over to Harriet s table. Just look at this little darling, she said. Mine are so big and grown. The one-armed fellow behind the counter brought a pot of coffee to Harriet s table. As he refilled their mugs, Harriet felt tears in her eyes. Her husband wanted to know what was wrong. Nothing. Just Christmas, she told him, reaching in her purse for a Kleenex and a quarter. Go see if you can find a Christmas song on the jukebox, she told her children. When they were gone, Harriet said, He d come here, wouldn t he? Who? her husband asked. Jesus, Harriet said. If Jesus were born in this town tonight and the choices were our neighborhood, the church or this truck stop, it would be here, wouldn t it? Her husband didn t answer right away, but looked around the place, looked at the people. Finally he said, Either here or a homeless shelter.

5 That s what bothers me, Harriet said. When we first got here I felt sorry for these people because they probably aren t going home to neighborhoods where the houses have candles in the windows and wreaths on the doors. And listening to that awful music, I thought I ll bet nobody here has even heard of Handel. Now I think that more than any other place I know, this is where Christmas is. But I don t belong. As they walked to the car, her husband put his arm around her. Remember, he reminded her, the angel said, I bring good news to ALL people. (1) That, dear people, is the message of what Bethlehem is trying to tell us today. God actually lives where we really live, no matter where we live, in the smallest village or the largest city, in a dungy, grimy truck stop, or in the most magnificent and lovely homes right here in Scottsdale, Arizona. We better be ready! When the Savior came and the news of it got abroad, a disbelieving cynic said, I don t believe it. No Savior is ever going to come, and if he did, it won t be anyone born in Bethlehem. Well then, what if the Savior of the world were born in our city, in our church, in our hearts? So God imparts to human hearts the blessing of his heaven. *** Where meek souls will receive him still the dear Christ enters in. Several years after his trip to the Holy Land, in 1869 Phillips Brooks became rector of Trinity Church in Boston, where he remained for 22 years. During those years, large congregations filled that massive church to hear Brooks preach. He emphasized

6 Christian humanism which combined a passion for Christ and compassion for people. Two years after being elected Bishop of Massachusetts in 1891, Phillips Brooks died of heart failure. O Little Town of Bethlehem was published as an official hymn of the Episcopal Church in 1892, but Bishop Brooks would never know the magnitude of the hymn that he created. When he died, tributes came from all over the world. Maybe, though, a small girl paid him the highest tribute. The mother of this five-year-old girl entered the room where her daughter was playing and said tearfully to her, Bishop Brooks has gone to heaven. Oh, Mama, the little girl replied, How happy the angels will be! This Christmas let Christ be born in your life. Let Christ enter into your heart. Let Christ fill you with his love. Let Christ embrace you with grace. Let joy and peace be God s gift to you. For the God who was born in Bethlehem wants to be born in you. Will you receive him into your heart? Let the words of Phillips Brooks be yours today: O holy Child of Bethlehem, descend to us, we pray; cast out our sin and enter in, be born in us today. We hear the Christmas angels the great glad tidings tell; O come to us, abide in us, our Lord Emmanuel! Dr. Gary Nicolosi December 23, 2018 Text Micah 5:2-4 Advent 4, C

7 1. Harriet Richie, He d Come Here: Christmas Eve in The Christian Century, December 13, 1995, Vol. 112, No. 36.

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