Growing up in the final two decades of the last century, the legacy of the Second World War was very present for me. One of my grandfathers fought in the war to his lasting detriment, one of my grandmothers lost the love of her life because of the war, and school Remembrance Day assemblies were always filled with the first-hand accounts of veterans. Because of this, D-Day, the day when the Allies mounted their counteroffensive on the beaches of Normandy, always carried an almost mythic quality for me. Now, this may seem like an odd way to start a reflection for Christmas, but I think it’s actually very fitting. Because, the sweet and sentimental visions of our Nativity plays and Christmas carols all too easily mask what is happening in the Christmas story. For it’s nothing other than God’s D-Day, the invasion of the kingdoms of this world by God’s Kingdom. If you’re not convinced, let’s look at the story as Luke tells it.
The story begins, ironically enough, with administration. The Roman Emperor has requested a full accounting of his newly acquired Judean client kingdom, and so everyone must go to their hometown to be counted. This goes to show just how much of a farce the Herodian dynasty really was: Judea was still technically independent and yet was counting its people so a foreign Empire could tax them! While they are in Joseph’s hometown of Bethlehem for the census, the time comes for Mary to give birth. With the town overcrowded with visitors, the couple is bedding down with the animals, and has to use a feeding trough for a crib. But there’s more to this simple story of a pregnant woman forced to give birth in ridiculous circumstances because of government bureaucracy. And this is where it gets juicy:
In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see – I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favours!” (Luke 2.8-14)
Here we have some low-status, blue-collar workers on the night shift shocked by the appearance of an angel. The angel, surrounded by glorious light, tells them the words so familiar to all of us: A saviour has been born to them and they will find it not in a palace nursery, but in the stables of an ordinary peasant house. But then, and now we finally get to my point, a ”multitude of the heavenly host” appears with the angel. This is not just a crowd of angels, but is nothing other than the armies of heaven ready for battle! This is God’s apocalyptic invasion of the petty kingdoms and concerns of this world. This is God’s D-Day!
This is the day the prophets of old had promised; this is the day the faithful had held on to for centuries in their apocalyptic hope, peace, joy, and love. This is the day that fulfills the wonderful oracle of Isaiah:
The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness-on them light has shined.
You have multiplied the nation; you have increased its joy; they rejoice before you as with joy at the harvest, as people exult when dividing plunder.
For the yoke of their burden and the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor, you have broken as on the day of Midian.
For all the boots of the tramping warriors and all the garments rolled in blood shall be burned as fuel for the fire.
For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders,
and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Great will be his authority, and there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom.
He will establish and uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time onward and forevermore.
The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this. (Isaiah 9.2-7)
But this is where we have to hold on to the wonderful paradox of our faith. For this invasion is not violent. This invasion is not destructive. It does not wreak vengeance upon the enemies of faith. This invasion looks like a vulnerable infant born into poverty and scandal, in a nothing village in a backwater client kingdom of a mighty and hostile empire. It’s an invasion of grace, mercy, forgiveness, and compassion, an invasion of hope, peace, joy, and love. It’s the in-breaking of God’s kingdom in a frightened and frightening world.
There is so much about the Christmas story that is sweet and domestic. And that’s fine to celebrate and enjoy. But this year — every year, but especially this year — let us not domesticate it. Let us remember what it is exactly we mean when we say we want to keep the spirit of Christmas alive all year round. It’s not the hope of family togetherness or gift-giving, but the hope of a new way of doing life, one that is all about showing up for one another in healed and whole, reciprocal good-faith relationships. That’s what it’s all about. That hope invaded a hopeless world two thousand years ago, and its promise is still alive in us to day.
Matthew Root 