The God of Christmas, says Bishop David Bard, loves widely and wildly without regard to status and draws near to the simple and ordinary.
BISHOP DAVID ALAN BARD
Michigan Conference
Click here to watch Bishop Bard’s Advent greeting.
I recently returned from a wonderful educational trip with a lovely group from the Michigan Conference, including some Episcopalian and Lutheran friends. We traveled to Greece and Egypt, both fascinating places I had never visited. I continue to process and reflect upon all that I saw and experienced — walking through the magnificent Parthenon on the Acropolis in Athens, standing at Mars Hill where Paul addressed gathered Athenians, strolling through the ruins of ancient Corinth as I imagined the bustling commercial center where Paul visited and the church to whom he wrote, and seeing the multiple magnificent temples and tombs in Egypt including the astonishing pyramids of Giza.
One of the ideas that struck me in Greece and Egypt was the hierarchical social structure of both societies. I had been thinking about this for a few days when I encountered a sign in the Cairo Museum: “In ancient Egypt, social and natural order were seen as intertwined, linking daily activities and royal power, life and death. The Egyptian society was divided into strict social classes, particularly in the Old Kingdom, and an individual’s position in society was largely determined by the status of his or her parents.” Egyptian society was highly structured, and the royal family and priests were at the top. Similar themes are to be found in ancient Greece. In both societies, God was closest to those who ruled and those at the top of the religious hierarchy. Hieroglyphics tell the story of how the gods give eternal life to the royals in whose tombs we find the remarkable etchings. The stories of ancient Greece are about gods and kings.
The world into which Jesus was born embodied these elements. Rome ruled with solidity and stability — the Pax Romana, the peace of Rome. The peace of Rome was built on a hierarchical structure. The emperor was “son of god.” After looking at Hadrian’s gate in Athens, I read more about him. Hadrian was Roman emperor for almost 21 years, from 117 to 138 CE. He admired Greek culture and promoted Athens as the cultural center of the empire. He constructed an incredible library there. Hadrian could be cultured but also cruel. Soon after becoming emperor, he had four leading Roman senators put to death, concerned they may threaten his reign. Following his death, Hadrian was “divinized” by the Roman Senate: god and emperor.
The peace of Rome was often maintained by the suppression of conquered peoples, including the Jewish population in Palestine. Underneath the peace of Rome, there were stirrings of rebellion. Within the leadership of Rome, there was often intrigue. Octavian, Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus, was the founder of the empire, and among the deeds that brought him to power was the execution of Caesarean, son of Cleopatra and Julius Caesar. I’ve already shared Hadrian’s story. The territory of the empire was vast, requiring large deployments of soldiers. Local elites became part of the ruling structure, often putting them in opposition to their own people.
And something happened in that world, in that time, reverberating into our day, time, and lives. The story in Luke 2 begins by providing an imperial context: “In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered” (v. 1, NRSVUE). Registration had to do with imperial rule, including taxation. And in a backwater part of the empire, in Bethlehem of Judea, a child is born to a couple who had traveled from Nazareth of Galilee, still the sticks. The child was born not in imperial splendor but in a manger where animals were fed.
The gospel story makes an astonishing and audacious claim. It is not in this imperial center in Rome but in this humble, backwater village that God is most powerfully at work. Shepherds are interrupted by angels who bring good news of great joy. A savior is born, one to bring peace. Glory to God. Song and light. In a difficult time for so many, there is light and hope. And God is not distant, but near. God draws near not only to the great and powerful but also to the simple and ordinary. The God of Jesus Christ, the God of Christmas, loves widely and wildly without regard to class, background, or status. Everyone matters to God, not just the rich and powerful and those at the top of the social hierarchy.
The story has been shared for generations, each year at Christmas. Its message ripples through the years. In darkness and uncertainty, there is light. There is hope that lights our lives, even if we feel small and insignificant. Jesus Christ, born great distances from imperial palaces and away from centers of power, has the power to save, bring peace, change the world, and change us. It is a message for each person. You matter to God. No matter how the broader social system may consider you, you matter to God. God wants you to know that God is near. We remember and celebrate this at Christmas: Jesus Christ, the power of God’s saving love. The God of Jesus Christ enters our world filled with volatility, violence, uncertainty, and pain to bring hope and healing to all. We need not be overwhelmed by life, stuck in the muck and mire. We are loved — every one of us. We can make a difference — every one of us.
My wish for us this Christmas is that we might all know God’s love more deeply, grow in that love more profoundly, and share that love more widely. No matter how difficult or smooth this past year was, we are loved, and we can love. No matter what hopes or dreads we have as we consider the coming year, we are loved, and we can love. Hear the story again. Invite a friend to listen in. Resolve to live the story more completely.
Merry Christmas. Blessed New Year.
Last Updated on December 9, 2024