1^st January 2010

THE WORD BECAME FLESH (Christmas Day, 25 December 2009)

Rev Dr Max Champion at St John's UCA Mt Waverley

Lessons -- Isaiah 52:7-10; Hebrews 1:1-4; John 1:1-5,9-14,16-18

In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word
was God. . . . And the Word became flesh and lived among us . . .
full of grace and truth. (John 1:1,14 NRSV)

Preaching at Christmas isn't easy! The dumbing-down of Christianity (by church leaders) and endless repetition of carols (on TV and in shopping
malls) doesn't encourage us to look for anything remarkable at Christmas.
It's become too familiar.

Yet this is not what we find in the Gospel. 'With the opening sentences of his Gospel John takes us on a soaring, dizzying flight (which is anything but humdrum or predictable). He brings us to the beginning of everything, the time even before creation. He lifts us up to the transcendent sphere of God and gives us a perspective which embraces all things and all nations, the whole cosmos. No wonder "the eagle became the symbol of this evangelist". (Hans-Ruedi Weber, Immanuel, p97)'

John invites us to see a new beginning for humanity, like the creation of the world, in the incarnation of God's 'grace and truth' -- that at a decisive time in history, the creative power which has always worked invisibly behind the universe became embodied. 'The Word that was in the beginning with God and was God, became flesh and dwelt among us. (1:14)'

Now John isn't writing a daily column as things unfold. He writes in hindsight. Clearly he wasn't there at or before creation. He is a profound, imaginative thinker whose curiosity has been awakened by the extraordinary events which have unfolded around the puzzling and compelling figure of Jesus. He's been forced to conclude that in the 'flesh' of Jesus -- who was crucified and been raised to life -- the world has witnessed the very Being of God with us.

* Suzanne de Dietrich says that John's Gospel is like a Rembrandt painting where 'All is contrast of shadow and light. Jesus is in the centre, standing in an orb of light. All the faces turned towards him are lighted up. Those who turn from him are in darkness.' (H-RW, p97).

* Weber says that reading John is like looking at a Chinese print where everyday scenes are clearly drawn in the foreground but deeper meaning is only discovered by paying attention to the hazier details in the background, particularly the furthest layer of reality where heaven meets earth (H-RW p97). It's a bit like 3D cards where you have to focus your eyes on the centre in order to see the picture behind the colours in the foreground.

That such wonderful images are used to explore the cosmic mystery of the Incarnation in John should encourage us to look further for what is thrilling and disturbing in this magnificent symphonic overture to the Gospel.

One of the things that grabs our attention is what he says about 'the Word' -- a word full of meaning for Jews and Greeks.

* In Judaism, the 'Word' (dabar) signifies the dynamic, creative and reconciling love of God. We speak of 'mere words', as if actions must be added before anything 'really' happens. But Jews didn't separate 'words'
from 'people'. Angry or kind words can't be separated from the person who utters them. What she says can't be separated from who she is. So, when God speaks, God is revealed as the 'Person' God is -- the One who judges, pardons and renews Israel and the nations.

* In Greek-Stoic thought, by contrast, the 'Word' (logos) is the wisdom or rational order which lies behind the world, sustains life and 'dwells' in all people. This 'Word' is found in the study of sciences, such as biology (rationality of life) and psychology (rationality of the mind).

John uses a familiar term to engage his Greek and Jewish audience. But when he says the 'Word became flesh', both recoil in horror and indignation!

This is not only because the very idea of the eternal, transcendent God 'dwelling' with mortal people in the person of Jesus is outrageous. It is also because the term he chooses for 'flesh' (sarx) doesn't simply mean 'man' (aner) or 'human being' (anthropos) but 'the whole human person,
seen as a frail, mortal and tempted being' (H-RW, p107). John wants to
make it absolutely clear that the very Being of God has been enfleshed, amid the harsh realities of the world, in Christ -- the embodiment of God's eternal Word. No wonder they are appalled!

They're not the only ones offended. New Age spiritualists, Muslims, Hindus, humanists and many Christians (including prominent Church leaders who profit by ridiculing the incarnation) shudder at what they see as confusion between God and humanity. Even the translators of the Good News Bible dodge the clear meaning when they say 'the Word became a human being'. All say that, because God is timeless, transcendent and holy love, God cannot be incarnate in a world bound by time, mortality and sin.
Conversely, a mortal man cannot embody God's eternal, transcendent and holy love.

To meet these understandable objections the early Church said that 'God did not abandon the rule of the universe in order to make himself known.
God came out of his goodness and love to us, not changing his essential nature (as Creator of space and time) but being present with us in space and time in the flesh of Jesus to reconcile flawed people to himself. (E Osborn, 'For us men and for our salvation: Why God became man', in Jesus Christ For Us, p75).'

Thus the Word which became flesh in Christ in a particular time-and-place doesn't disqualify God's Lordship over all places-and-times. In the body of Jesus, God has made room for himself in the midst of our lives so that human beings may see and know the eternal love of God.

Good theology is seldom enough on its own to stir our imaginations, gladden our hearts and strengthen our wills. When accompanied by good music, as in many well-known Christmas hymns and carols, our thoughts may soar to unexpected heights and our faith may be unexpectedly deepened.

* In 'O come, all ye faithful . . .' (AHB 228) we sing 'True God of true God, Light of Light eternal' (v2) and 'Word of the Father now in flesh appearing' (v7).

* In Christina Rosetti's carol (AHB 243) we sing 'Love came down at Christmas (v1) . . . Love incarnate, Love divine' (v2).

* And in Charles Wesley's hymn we sing 'veiled in flesh the Godhead see; hail the incarnate Deity . . . Jesus our Immanuel' (AHB 227, v2).

They say what John says in his majestic, soaring prologue: that in Christ, the Word, that was with God and was God before the creation of the cosmos, has become 'flesh' and dwelt among us 'full of grace and truth'.

The Incarnation assures us that God is neither a distant figure who is unwilling or unable to identify with our fragility and waywardness nor an impersonal Fate which doesn't 'give a damn' about us. In the 'Word made flesh' we are assured that the Creator of all things is the God of love -- the God who has come among us in the flesh of Christ -- who lived, died and was raised again to 'overcome the darkness'. We are assured that, no matter how bleak the world may be, God whose word became incarnate in Christ is 'for us'.

This word about the 'Word' urgently needs to be heard today. Our society is becoming more ignorant about Christianity and Christmas mainly because 'Christians' have (inadvertently) dumbed it down or because popular preachers have falsely treated it as the product of primitive minds.

Hopefully a glimpse into the profound mind and eagle eye of John will dispel such myths and encourage us to look beyond first impressions. If so then we may begin to see more deeply into the cosmic wonder and human significance of the Word become flesh in the puzzling and compelling person of Jesus Christ. It is in his glorious Incarnation which we celebrate at Christmas that we see the glory of God and the destiny for which we have been created and redeemed.

So may we rejoice that in him the light has shined in the darkness; that the Creator of space and time has given our space and time meaning; and that the mystery of our life in the Universe has been revealed in the weakness of flesh.