Hodie. Today.
Sermon from December 25, 2023 + Christmas Day + Pr. Craig Mueller
We were in Bethlehem about a month before the attacks of October 7. Tucked away in a large church, we joined other pilgrims in entering a small space in which it is believed to be the cave where Jesus was born. Kneeling and kissing or touching the birthplace. We went to other holy sites where Jesus was born, walked, lived, and died. On each site a church was built.
What moved wasn’t necessarily that “Jesus was here” two thousand years ago. Rather, it was observing the present-day pilgrims that moved me. Many of them were with groups, often Roman Catholic or Orthodox, and at each site they celebrated a eucharist in a small chapel designated for this purpose.
Yes, a past event was commemorated. But the mystery was celebrated in the present. In our time. For our time. Today.
Which bring me a Christmas word you rarely think about: Hodie. When I first googled Hodie, what came up was “hoodie,” which is the word many Americans will know better. Hodie is from the Latin and means “today,” “now,” “in the present,” “nowadays.”
But isn’t Christmas about Jesus being born in Bethlehem two thousand years ago? Yes. And. The gospel on Christmas Day isn’t the familiar one from Luke, but the poetic prologue to the gospel of John. “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”
It sounds past tense to me. And it hearkens back to the first chapter of Genesis. “In the beginning God created the heavens and earth.” In other words, many eons ago God created all that is. And in the beginning the Word was present.
Even the familiar Christmas story from Luke begins, “in those days a decree went out.”
“Those days” are important, don’t get me wrong. The Palestinians were living under Roman occupation. Mary and Joseph were hotel-less and became refugees when they fled to Egypt. And the world was on the brink, yearning for peace.
Yet in our liturgy, and in our lives, we celebrate a creation that continues, God bringing light from darkness, hope from despair, joy from sorrow. And we gather around a Word that continues to be made flesh among us. These days. And in our time.
As one writer puts it:
In these days, when we, as Americans, experiencing divisions among us and disgust between us, when depression, anxiety and loneliness abound, when bombs are falling from the skies of Europe and the Middle East and when climate change is affecting our planet, we need the gift of the Christ child.
In these days of our culture that come marked with the sticky tags of “post-COVID,” “post-Christian,” and “postmodern,” we urgently ask the question afresh: “Where is God in the midst of all this?”1
Where is God amid the rubble in Gaza? Notice the wreckage and ruins in our nativity scene this year. Calling to mind the Palestinian Christians facing devastating loss. Amid the devastation, Christmas was cancelled this year in Bethlehem.
At Christmas it is easy to get stuck in sweet nostalgia. In those day. If only our Christmases were like those of our childhoods. If only, we could go back to simpler times. We can just as easily get stuck with a vague someday. If only the future could be this way, everything would get back to normal.
The mystery of the incarnation, the good news we ponder today is that Christ born into these challenging times, into our messy stories, into our complicated lives, into war-torn world. These days.
Today Christ is born. In our community gathered around word and sacrament.
Today Christ is born. Into our weary world and its raw realities.
Today Christ is born. In Gaza and the West Bank. In Israel and Ukraine. In all places of devastation and sorrow.
Today Christ is born. The Word is made flesh among us. This day. Full of grace and truth. In the eucharist. In our hands. In our bodies. And in the bodies of all our vulnerable siblings in our city and in our world.
So breathe deeply. This day is all that we really have. With all its wonderings and worries. With all its gifts and graces. With the coming of light, may our hope increase as well as we wait for a new day of peace and justice to dawn among us.
1Mary Anderson, “In Those Days,” Living Lutheran, November/December 2023.
