“Love KNows Your Name”

Christmas Eve

December 24, 2024

Luke 2:1-20

Many of you are familiar with some form of the story called Les Miserable. It’s about a man named Jean Valjean who was arrested for stealing bread to feed his family. He’s given a prison number, and when he’s finally released, he’s given a piece of paper he’s required to present to any potential employer. It marks him as a convict. The story goes on…filled with grace and forgiveness, struggle and strife, love and reconciliation.

But Jean Valjean can never shed his number. It haunts him. 24601. Giving someone a number—whether in prison or in Nazi concentration camps—is a way to dehumanize someone. If they don’t have a name, they don’t have a story. They are just one of the many.

Luke begins his account of Jesus’ birth with an orientation to current events—specifically a census. The Syrian governor assigned control over Israel and surrounding areas declared a census to be taken. Luke zeros in on the census because it’s impersonal. The government wants numbers. They want to know how many and how much. How many people can they extract taxes from? How many sheep do they have; how many businesses; how many buildings; how much livestock; how many kids; how many in a household? Just numbers. They want to track the money and migration patterns. They want to use it to control and demand.

They don’t care about any one story. They don’t care about individuals. They don’t care about names. Impersonal and indifferent.

And then, Luke’s story takes a turn. It’s like the camera goes from a wide panoramic view and narrows, focuses down to one family. Two adults traveling along the road. Two people amidst hundreds traveling the same road. And he tells their particular story. He shares their names. He dials in on what is happening in the lives of these two otherwise unknown and unimportant individuals.

And then, the view shifts—to shepherds. Dirty and smelly and not fit for polite society. In their fields, minding their business when angels come to them. THEM! And they share the good news. To THEM, a child has been born. To THEM, a son has been given. To THEM, the promised Messiah has come. And they, of all people, are honored and privileged to be shown where he is so that they, of all people, can honor him with their presence.

Even though we aren’t given their names or their stories, the message of the angels makes this good news personal. It enters their story—not the story of Herod the king, or Quirinius the governor, or Augustus the emperor. Christ has come to the world, and the despised and unknown are the first to be told. They are the first to introduce themselves. They are the first to be invited into the story of Jesus. They are the first to introduce themselves to the babe and his family. They are the first to be known intimately by Love, Itself.

This love—this faith—it’s personal. But that doesn’t make it private. It’s not individual. It’s not exclusive. It’s not saved or set aside for the deserving. It’s not kept in a fancy box locked away, only to be brought out for special occasions (like today). Love may be personal, but Love has come to the WORLD. Love has come to be shared.

Love is profoundly intimate, speaking your name in a language you understand. But Love speaks many languages and proclaims the name of all creation. Love knows our hopes and our fears, our dreams and our nightmares. Love enters the lives of those overlooked and undervalued.

Love entered our world in complete vulnerability—as a newborn baby born to an unwed mother who lived in an oppressed country. Love’s power doesn’t look like anything this world recognizes. It doesn’t stamp down or silence our voices. It doesn’t demand attention at any cost. As Paul says, this Love is patient and kind, not rude or boastful, not irritable or resentful. This Love is not violent or vengeful. This Love seeks truth and hope. It bestows grace and mercy.

This Love—this Christ—knows your name. Love knows your story. Love knows your hopes and fears. Love knows your dreams and nightmares. Love embraces you just as you are.

This is the one instance where I appreciate the English word, ‘you.’ Because it can and does mean both the individual and the communal. And today, this word accomplishes what our languages often can’t—it conveys the power of Love to know you. You as a person. You as a community. You as a world. You, ALL of you. And all of YOU.

You are not a number. You are the beloved. Thanks be to God.

Pastor Tobi White

Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church

Lincoln, NE