“Invited Home”
Christmas Eve
December 24, 2021
Isaiah 9:2-7
Luke 2:1-20
As part of the devotions and resources for this Advent and Christmas theme, Elder Vilmarie Cintrón-Olivieri tells of a tradition in Puerto Rico called Parrandas. It’s sort of a combination of a flash mob and Christmas caroling. A group “would unexpectedly visit friends and family at night, serenading the home-dwellers with Christmas music.” It would be a surprise, often waking the hosts from slumber. And yet, the visitors were invited in for refreshments and more singing.
To my ears, however, this sounds like a terrible idea. First of all, I don’t appreciate being awakened in the middle of the night. Ask the dog. Second, if I’m not prepared, I’m not sure I’d have anything good to share as a refreshment. Give me a heads up. That way I’m appropriately dressed and have sharable food on hand.
But that’s not how it works. Oh…and at what point does one determine that you’ve run out of room? And out of food? And out of time? But Cintron-Olivieri points out a Spanish adage: Where two people eat, three can eat, too. And I imagine that the number can just keep increasing as the water added to the pot increases. It’s the kind of hospitality most of us who live in middle-class America don’t recognize—or truly appreciate. It’s the kind of hospitality that was in place in First-Century Israel.
Which makes me ask again: at what point did the homeowner determine there was not enough room for Joseph and Mary in his house? Because, you see, there weren’t hotels or motels or inns. There were homes and family. If Joseph’s family originated in Bethlehem, then that same family was bound to offer a place for traveling relations to find shelter when they arrived.
And there weren’t separate stables—no such thing as a building out in the middle of nowhere (or even near the house)—where the exhausted couple would be sent. There was the home—complete with a living area and an area for the animals to take shelter. The manger—a feeding trough—would be located there.
So, exactly how full did a home have to be for a homeowner to force family to sleep in the other room with the animals? Or perhaps he was doing them a favor. Giving them a bit of privacy from the chaos of the rest of the gathered family. Especially if Mary was going into labor. But the beauty is that she would still be surrounded by family—midwives and mothers and grandmothers who would surround her and coach her through the event.
I remember getting super sick when I was at seminary. All I wanted was the familiarity of home. And family. Bless my friends who checked in on me and brought me 7up. And the dear people in neighboring apartments who wanted to call an ambulance if only they knew who was so sick. So, imagine poor Mary going into labor without her own mother and the familiarity of home.
But instead, Joseph’s family brought home to her. They gave her privacy. They gave her support. They gave her all that she needed to get through such a traumatic time for a young girl.
We have a weird tendency to sanitize the first Christmas story. Just think of the hymns we sing. Silent Night? Really—she was in labor. Away in a Manger—no crying he makes? He’s a baby! If he wasn’t crying, the whole family would panic. We sing of tinsel and mistletoe and Santa Claus and magical snowmen. We tell stories of lights and trees…oh, and presents! And the stress when we try to do too much, or when things don’t go quite right. Gotta do the cooking and the baking…and the baking…and the baking. And then there’s the eating. And then the regret from the eating.
And all of it misses the most important thing—that God made God’s home among us. God chose this messy, broken, complicated world in which to reside. God chose these fragile, often angry human souls to redeem. When Mary and Joseph were far from home, home came to them. When the shepherds left everything to see the baby, home was waiting with doors wide open. When the family and friends living in this house were given front-row seats to the Christ child, home became so much more than a building.
We are invited into this home—a home built so that there is room for all. All. We are invited into this home when we become homesick. We are invited into this home that has a sturdy foundation onto which we can build our hopes. We are invited into this home when we seek the sanctuary of love. We are invited into this home that God has built—a home filled with holy and unconditional welcome.
To be sure, we’ll meet some strange folks in this place called home. Folks with whom we may not agree. Folks whom we don’t understand. Folks who leave us angry, frustrated, or even confused. But they are invited, too. And we’ll meet folks who remind us of home. Folks who bring us comfort when we are scared. Folks in whom we find stability when it seems the whole world is reeling. We’ll see it all in this home of God’s. Because this is where God has chosen to be. With us. In us. Among us.
So, dear friends, welcome home. Merry Christmas.
Pastor Tobi White
Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church
Lincoln, NE
