2024.12.24 | THE STABLE: A PLACE OF LIGHT
Peace of Christ be with you. Tonight, we gather not just to remember a story from long ago, but to receive a promise — a promise that no matter how dark the world may seem, the light of Christ continues to shine, even through our own actions.
Esta noche, nos reunimos no solo para recordar una historia que ocurrió hace mucho tiempo, sino para recibir una promesa. La promesa de que, aunque el mundo a veces parezca oscuro, la luz de Cristo sigue brillando, incluso a través de nosotros.
As a congregation, we have been recently dislodged on a journey. We’ve left our place of comfort and traveled to Bethlehem. We’ve come from near and far to this imagined place. Bethlehem, as we learned from Pastor Brenda on Sunday, wasn’t a place of established power. It wasn’t a place where anyone expected something extraordinary to happen. The Prophet Micah called it “little” Bethlehem. The House of Bread, signified humble origins.
We were reminded this Sunday of Ruth as part of these humble origins. Ruth was a non-Judahite immigrant to Bethlehem, who along with her mother-in-law No’omi, were looking for a place of rest, a place of belonging or מָנוֹחַ. It is within Bethlehem that this place of belonging and security is established, little it may be, and the widowed migrant became King David’s grandmother. It is from this lineage that Jesus comes to us. And it is from a humble stable centuries later, that the light of the world entered, as we have heard read here tonight.
Hemos llegado de cerca y de lejos a este lugar sagrado, pero les invito a hacer una pausa y mirar más allá de las imágenes familiares del nacimiento. Belén no era un lugar de poder ni de grandeza. No era un lugar donde se esperaba que algo extraordinario ocurriera. Sin embargo, fue ahí, en un humilde pesebre, donde entró la luz del mundo.
In early November, I preached that we would have to sit in some sh**, or euphemistically, ponder in some poo. I encouraged us to not rush lament. We have lamented, when things fall apart; we have journeyed together in our state of collective dislodgement. And here we are–can you smell it? We’ve made it all the way to the stable. To ponder in some poo. Now, if you grew up around manure, the smell doesn’t bother you that much, you work through it, and sometimes, yes, it travels with you. But what animals did provide, being stabled within homes, was warmth, and fertilizer. So know, even if it’s smelly, creation is doing its part in providing sustenance in the nativity scene. And know that we too have been fertilized in our sitting in lament these past seven weeks.
The smelly stable, the last place we might look for light, became the very place where God's promise shone brightest. A child, fragile and vulnerable, born not in a palace but in a messy and common place, surrounded by animals and strangers. And yet, in that seemingly messiness, there was light. A light that didn't just illuminate that small room, but began to cast its glow over the whole world.
El pesebre, el último lugar donde pensaríamos encontrar luz, se convirtió en el sitio donde la promesa de Dios brilló con más fuerza. Un niño, frágil y vulnerable, nacido no en un palacio, sino en un lugar oscuro y desordenado, rodeado de animales y desconocidos. Y sin embargo, en ese caos, había luz. Una luz que no sólo iluminó esa pequeña habitación, sino que comenzó a extender su resplandor sobre todo el mundo.
That light is not just a memory, it is a living force that invites us to be a part of it. In a world that is often dark, where hate and fear seem to grow louder and louder, the light we celebrate tonight is one that calls us to stand firm and shine — not in spite of the darkness, but because of it, and because of love.
Bethlehem today, is humble still, and is cancelling Christmas festivities like last year due to the ongoing genocide in Gaza. And even so, light flickers still, even there, and even in Gaza beneath the rubble. Beneath the rubble there is God, love remains even if it is all that remains.
Esa luz no es solo un recuerdo; es una fuerza viva que nos invita a ser parte de ella. En un mundo que a menudo parece oscuro, donde el odio y el miedo parecen crecer, la luz que celebramos esta noche nos llama a mantenernos firmes y brillar — no a pesar de la oscuridad, sino por ella.
You may be feeling it, too—more solemn the occasion this year: the melancholy of Christmases past or the shadows of uncertainty, the rising tide of division, the fear of what the future holds. As a political regime change approaches, it can feel like the world is shifting in ways that might diminish the light we hold inside. Not too different than in the days of King Herod. But I’m here to remind you tonight: The light of Christ does not flicker out in the face of darkness. It grows. That’s part of the miracle in which we are invited to participate.
Tal vez también lo sienten ustedes: las sombras de la incertidumbre, la creciente división, el miedo ante lo que depara el futuro. Con la llegada de un nuevo ciclo político, puede parecer que el mundo está cambiando de manera que disminuye la luz que tenemos dentro. Pero estoy aquí para recordarles que la luz de Cristo no se apaga ante la oscuridad. Al contrario, la luz de Cristo brilla aún mas.
Just as the light of Christ was born in the dark, so too does the light in each of us grow in the face of adversity. In the coming months, we will be called to stand in the gap, to be the light that others need. Just as Christ did, we are called to reach out to those who are hurting, to partner in solidarity with the oppressed, to be voices for justice and peace.
Al igual que la luz de Cristo nació en la oscuridad, también la luz en cada uno de nosotros crece ante el desafío. En los próximos meses, se nos llamará a estar en la brecha, a ser la luz que otros necesitan. Al igual que lo hizo Cristo, se nos llama a extender nuestra mano a los que sufren, a levantar a los oprimidos, a ser voces de justicia y paz.
And here’s the truth: the light is already here — not just in the baby born in a stable, but in each of us, all around us. In the first of God’s creating acts, God said “Let there be Light.” It is the love we share with one another. It is the courage to speak truth in the face of power. It is the care we give to our neighbors, to immigrants, to Earth itself. It is the hope that persists, even when things seem hopeless. And it is yours — this light is yours, to hold, to share, to pass on. Let there be light.
Y aquí está la verdad: la luz ya está aquí — no solo en el niño nacido en el pesebre, sino en cada uno de nosotros. Es el amor que compartimos entre nosotros. Es el coraje de hablar la verdad frente al poder. Es el cuidado que damos a nuestros vecinos, al extranjero, a la misma tierra. Es la esperanza que persiste, incluso cuando parece no haber esperanza. Y es tuyo — esta luz es tuya, para abrazarla, compartirla y transmitirla.
So, as we stand on the brink of this new year, this new season, let us ask ourselves: How will we let our light shine? What will we do with this gift of light that has been given to us? Let us ask ourselves this holy night, “will we open our arms to God?” Will we co-create spaces of מָנוֹחַ inclusive belonging, with a still-creating God? Will we be part of the Christmas miracle?
Entonces, mientras estamos al borde de este nuevo año, de esta nueva temporada, hagámonos la pregunta: ¿Cómo dejaremos brillar nuestra luz? ¿Qué haremos con este regalo de luz que se nos ha dado? ¿Seremos parte del milagro navideño?
Will we open our hearts and our arms to those in need? Will we speak up for justice, for love, for peace? Will we remember that the stable, that humble place, is a reminder that even in the messiness of our lives and our world, God’s light is present and calls us to be that light for others?
¿Abriremos nuestros corazones y brazos a los que lo necesitan? ¿Habrámos de justicia, de amor, de paz? ¿Recordaremos que el pesebre, ese lugar oscuro y humilde, es un recordatorio de que, incluso en el desorden de nuestras vidas y de nuestro mundo, la luz de Dios está presente y nos llama a ser esa luz para los demás?
As we reflect on the birth of Jesus, we remember that the light that entered the world on that holy night is not a light that fades. My friends, it is not a light that belongs only to the past. It is a light that God continues to speak into existence. Just as it was in the beginning of God’s creating acts, God is still speaking light into existence, around us and in us. And so, as we ready ourselves to receive more fully the light of Christ, it is time to transition from lament to joy, for even when humbled, even when it stinks, we have each other.
Hoy, al recordar el nacimiento de Cristo, no olvidemos que esa luz que entró en el mundo en esa noche sagrada no es una luz que se apaga. No es una luz que pertenece sólo al pasado. Es una luz que Dios sigue creando. Así como al principio, cuando Dios dijo "Que haya luz", y la oscuridad fue disipada, Dios sigue diciendo esa palabra hoy—"Que haya luz"—en cada rincón de nuestro mundo, en nuestros corazones, en nuestras acciones.
Christmas is God calling us to bring forth light where there is darkness, to create hope where there is despair, to bring peace where there is conflict, to love where there is hate. God is still creating—not just in the grand moments of the cosmos, but in the quiet, humble corners of our lives, where we choose to reflect the light of Christ.
Esta Navidad, Dios vuelve a hablar, llamándonos a traer luz donde hay oscuridad, a crear esperanza donde hay desesperación, a traer paz donde hay conflicto, a amar donde hay odio. Dios sigue creando — no solo en los grandes momentos del cosmos, sino también en los rincones humildes de nuestras vidas, donde elegimos reflejar la luz de Cristo. Así que salgamos esta noche, y en cada día que viene, recordando que la voz de Dios sigue resonando en el mundo: Que haya luz. Estamos invitados a descubrir y compartir luz al mundo, a ser co-creadores con Dios, iluminando el camino para otros y para nosotros mismos.
So let us go forth tonight, and in every day to come, remembering that God’s voice continues to echo in the world: Let there be light. And as we answer that call, we claim our heritage as children of light, and repairers of our fragmented world. We are invited to uncover and share the light within the world, to be co-creators with God, lighting the way for others, and for ourselves. May our light shine ever brightly, especially in times of darkness.
Amen and Merry Christmas.