I offer, this 20th day of December, a short reflection on the season (with apologies to Richard Curtis, showrunner for the classic British show The Vicar of Dibley, from whose episode “Winter” I borrow the framing).
When I was a kid, along with John Denver and the Muppets: A Christmas Together, A Charlie Brown Christmas, and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, the TV lineup would include the movie The Greatest Story Ever Told. It wasn’t my favorite of these sweeping Hollywood Bible epics – I much preferred the big arms of Charlton Heston in the Ten Commandments or the frenetic chariot race in Ben Hur – and even now, the 1965 biopic of Jesus, starring Max von Sedow, only rates 35% at Rotten Tomatoes. Yet every Christmas, some network will trot out The Greatest Story Ever Told.
Is it, though?
Considering how many millions of stories humans have been telling since humans were able to tell stories – is this one story really the greatest story ever told? And why do we tell it in Unitarian Universalist congregations every year?
Consider this:
A teenage girl from a good family lives in a tiny village of about 500 people – a small enclave of Jews in the Roman-occupied territory. She is betrothed, but then finds herself pregnant, definitely not by her husband. For reasons we can only imagine, but which subsequent writers attribute to the evils of the occupying empire, this young woman and her fiancé travel about 80 miles away, where, in the middle of the night, the baby is born.
That’s actually not the remarkable part. Young women leave town to have their babies out of the watchful eye of disapproving neighbors all the time. Young families escape persecution all the time. Babies are born in the middle of the night in unexpected places all the time. We don’t always create tales of shepherds and magi and lowing cattle and harried innkeepers when it happens, but the basic circumstances are not that remarkable.
It’s what happens next:
This child grows up – according to the Infancy Gospel of Thomas, one of the extracanonical and widely disputed early writings, this child spent much of his youth talking back to his elders, challenging the priests, and generally walking a fine line between precocious and belligerent.
But as an adult, this child, now a man – goes on to say and do amazing things.
And here we are – a group of people gathered together, with a variety of beliefs, questions, and suspicions about this man we call Jesus – gathered together over six thousand miles away, gathered over two thousand years later – telling the story of this child’s birth.
This story, that tells us that a peaceful world is possible.
This story, that tells us we all have infinite capacity for goodness.
This story, that tells us hope can exist in the midst of despair.
Remember, this is the story of child born in the midst of a moment not unlike ours. First century Palestine was filled with distrust, discrimination, rampant xenophobia, violence, war, a religious establishment that had lost its way, an oppressive government that had no regard for its citizens.
This story starts with the birth of a child but goes on to show us how to do justice – from the sermon on the mount, and the parables, and in the example of how he lived. Sharing resources so all could eat. Encouraging times of action and times to stop, rest, listen. Engaging with – and learning from – the woman at the well. Sharing the ancient lessons of God’s love with the centurion meant to persecute him. Calling out hatred, discrimination, oppression. And yes, while we will sing “Silent Night” in congregations around the world this Christmas Eve, we know a baby is not a tame thing– and the work he was called to, that we are called to, is anything but quiet.
This story, this one child’s story, is full of noisy action: poking at the establishment. Calling out hypocrisy. Interrupting violence. Rousing rabble. Teaching those around him how to care for the poor, the sick, the lonely, the downtrodden, those considered the lowest of society, and affirms their inherent worth and dignity. Reaching out to people of other tribes and nationalities and races and drawing the circle wide enough to include all as siblings in this family of humanity. Calling out the dangers of wealth and power, he railing against the status quo, reminding us that greed and pride and lawlessness are the enemies of the good. Showing us how – even two thousand years ago – how to hold on to hope at the edge of despair, find the truth in amazing peace, fight for everyone’s liberation, and actually build the beloved community.
And this story begins when we honor the birth of a child.
Whether we believe he was just a man or the Son of God, whether we believe his birth was a miracle or just another birth, whether we believe he was a teacher, a prophet, or a savior – we are here, telling his story over two thousand years later, because what he taught is still so radical, still so needed in this age, and indeed every age.
So… maybe that movie wasn’t so great… but maybe this is the greatest story ever told.
May your holidays be all they can and need to be for you this year; may you find grace and peace when you need it, may you find joy and excitement where it happens, and may you remember that no matter what you do or don’t do, you are worthy, and blessed, and beloved.
I have a very random question that has been circling my head about this topic, and I’m not sure what the appropriate venue is to ask it.
I grew up Catholic and always wondered if the second coming of Christ is supposed to happen, would he be recognized? Would the church officials realize this individual is the chosen one? Or would this person be treated like Jesus was - an outcast, and then therefore a new religion would happen once this guy is dead?
I’ve been UU for a while now, and was just wondering this.
Yes! I a so grateful for this framing of why we tell the story--and how, especially in many of our Unitarian Universalist congregations, we have to use the birth celebration really to celebrate the whole movement, the whole life, the whole Good Holy Direction in which this one called Jesus m, and then those who followed and carried it forward, moved and spoke, pointed and lived. Please please remind us of this next year too! 😘