Esablishing Residency

January 2, 2022 + Second Sunday after Christmas + Sirach 24:1-12; John 1:1-18 + Pastor Craig Mueller

It just moved in quickly. That’s how people described the wind and the fires in Boulder County this past week, just miles from where my parents live. You couldn’t see it, but oh, the force.

I remember the eerie angel of death scene from the movie The Prince of Egypt, the story of Moses. How do you portray the angel of death moving in and permeating the people? It looks like moving beams of light. Or wind. Or fire. Or smoke.

Due to climate change and the pandemic, more people are moving these days. Establishing residence. But what has truly moved in with us these days? A pathogen. A virus. Moving through the world, surging through our neighborhoods, proceeding here and there and everywhere, it seems. Though you can’t see it. What else has moved in among us? Fear. And loss. And impatience. And exhaustion. And mistrust of others. And in some places, a kind of authoritarianism. Our houses may be decorated with Christmas lights, but we wonder, who and what is living inside them? What is taking up residence among us?

The Word became flesh. The theological meaning of Christmas. We’ve got that down. God with us is now residing, we just sang. The Word became flesh and lived among us. Dwelled among us. It could be translated, took up residence among us. One popular paraphrase says, the Word moved into the neighborhood. Even more literally, the Word tabernacled among us. God told Moses to build a sanctuary—a tabernacle, a portable God box, if you will, where divine glory would dwell. For Christians, Jesus is God tabernacling among us in human flesh. Divinity has moved in!

But look who else moved in this morning! Sophia. A mysterious figure in the Old Testament and apocryphal books. Sophia, the divine personification of wisdom. Complete with feminine pronouns. Yes, in our scriptures! Lady Wisdom, she is sometimes called. And the things said about Sophia in the Jewish tradition—that she was present with God before creation, and that she made her dwelling among the people—that she moved in—that she resides with humankind—these things were also said of the Christ, the Logos, the Word. 

She says: “I came forth from the mouth of the Most High and covered the earth like mist . . . I took root in an honored people, in the portion of the Lord.”

It’s not lost on scholars that the Word incarnate is also Sophia incarnate. That’s awesome to think about!

There are movers and shakers in Little Fires Everywhere. I recommend both the award-winning novel by Celeste Ng and the Netflix series. In Little Fires Everywhere, Mia Warren, and her daughter Pearl are nomadic, moving from place to place. Mia is an enigmatic artist with a mysterious past. Mia and Pearl move to Shaker Heights, a placid suburb of Cleveland that thrives on structure, family, and rules. Everything must be perfect so that the residents of Shaker Heights live successful lives. A big house, a steady job, plenty of money, children who are popular and successful in academics and athletics.

 The problem is: things aren’t perfect. All the main characters are carrying secrets or other burdens. There are little fires everywhere.

So what does the incarnation—God residing among us in Jesus—have to do with our very ordinary, broken, weird yet wonderful lives? As one hymn text puts it, in the birth of Christ a barn harbors heaven, a stall becomes a shrine. Or as many a sermon will tell you: even a smelly barn shines with divinity.

But I wonder, tacky outdoor creche decorations notwithstanding, is that the only stable that lights up the night sky? Is the Christ the only child in whom the Word takes flesh? If God resides with humankind in this Holy One, what about the billions of years of life on earth before the incarnation? And what of the two thousand years since? And what of the countless human beings that are not Christian? Does God not reside with them as well?

Clearly, the writer of John proclaims that the Word was with God from the very beginning. The Greek concept is logos. But writer Richard Rohr suggests a more accessible way of thinking about it. In the beginning was the blueprint, and the blueprint was with God, and the blueprint was God. Divine DNA we could say. Divine purpose. Divine plan. Divine reality. The Word. Sophia. The logos. There from the beginning. Revealed in creation. Revealed in nature. Revealed in all people. Revealed in all religions. Sometimes this is called “deep incarnation,” the divine reality most fully known in Jesus the Christ, yes, but residing in the cosmos and at the same time residing in you and me.

And as Borg also writes, this divine blueprint is especially revealed in love. And in suffering. How can this inform us as a pathogen permeates our world and our vulnerable human flesh? Try on this: divine self-emptying revealed wherever there is love and wherever there is suffering.

 This divine residency changes everything. As poet Gerard Manley Hopkins writes:

“In a flash, at a trumpet crash,

I am all at once what Christ is, since he was what I am.”

Our Orthodox siblings call it divinization. We partake in the divine nature. The incarnation is about us! As Saint Athanasius wrote centuries ago, the Son of God become human that we might become divine.

God with us is now residing. God has moved into your neighborhood, your house, your body. Divine energy permeates the universe and the earth we call home. No wonder poets call the incarnation the marriage of heaven and earth. Let this move you this Christmas. Let this move you this new year. Let this move you as we enter the third year of the pandemic.  

A barn harbors heaven, and straw like gold shines, indeed. But your dwelling is also holy. Your house, your condo, your apartment. Your body shines as well. And all the diverse bodies on this body we call mother earth. The trees and the stars shine. All things bright and beautiful.

 The Word dwells in you, resides in this church, in your home, in the world, in the cosmos! Let this move you in times of love and gratitude. Let this move you in times of loss and sadness. Let this move you in times of doubt and despair. Let this move you in times of fear and exasperation. Even in this time of pandemic, we will not be moved! Behold Christ, the Word of God. Behold Sophia. Behold divine love permeating you, enfolding you. Nourishing you. Surrounding you. Surging here, there, and everywhere. Residing with, in, and around you. Evermore and evermore.