Luke 2:1-7 (NIV)
“In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. 2 (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) 3 And everyone went to their own town to register. 4 So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. 5 He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. 6 While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, 7 and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped Him in cloths and placed Him in a manger, because there was no place in the inn available for them.”
I never cease to be amazed at the power and mystery of a story more than 2000 years old, that still attracts the attention of the world. We never weary of it, and I am glad about that. Why do the ancient events of a backwater town in Palestine still enthral us? What is it about manger scene that still stirs our hearts? Carols are sung at Christmas time all over the world – by many more people than all the regular church goers of the whole world combined. When certain carols are sung, such as, “Away in a manger”, or “O little town of Bethlehem,” a reverential hush falls over the countless outdoor crowds that have gathered in civic places and parks. And then there is “Silent Night” – and everyone becomes even quieter.
What is happening during these annual Christmas rituals?
Is it just the momentum of centuries-old tradition or, is something else going on? I think there is. I really do. This is more than tradition. Something is stirred in the hearts of many, many people - all kinds of people, believers and non-believers alike. All around the world they flock to carols services, and gaze upon nativity scenes, hungry for connection with something other than just this tired old world. I believe this has much to do with grasping for some hope … our nation’s hearts long for it.
Of course, tradition is part of it, but it’s not the whole story, or even the core of it. Like the Easter story, the Christmas story has embedded within it, what I would call “eschatological complexity”. Yes, I reckon that’s a thing. I shall explain. Eschatology (noun) or eschatological (adjective), is the theological examination of matters relating to the human consciousness of the reality of death, judgement, and the final destiny of the soul, and of all humankind. King Solomon nails eschatological complexity almost in passing when He observes:
Ecclesiastes 3:11 (NIV)
“He [God] has made everything beautiful in its time.
He has also set eternity in the human heart;
yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.”
There it is right there. God has set some kind of intuitive recognition of ultimate reality (eternity) in every human soul. And when that soul – any soul - encounters something in a life experience that has to do with eternity (or even briefly brushes up against ultimate reality), there is a deep resonance or, perhaps, a disturbance, a disquiet that is often expressed in reverence, hope or fear. For example, when someone has a near death experience – a real one that is a brush with death and eternity – that is very often life reordering. That person came so close to ultimate reality that their soul experienced the power of it, and they made conscious decisions to change or reorder their lives. King Solomon notes the complexity of this. He says, “But we humans cannot work it out, or understand it”, it is a complex thing. Indeed, it is. But most people do not have near death experiences. Yet, there are other moments when this eschatological complexity within us is suddenly stirred - and this is often in some ordinary simplicity. It catches our attention in a very different way.
We become vaguely aware of another, much greater reality than the one we are used to experiencing every day. This is “other”. The soul becomes a little more attuned to the “other” and greater– the ultimate reality of God’s sovereignty and reality, briefly peeking through into our world. And it is humbling. We are drawn to it. We see the simplicity yet know there’s more. Like the psalmist who has gazed up into the night sky and brushed up against “other”.
Psalms 8:3-4 (NIV)
“When I consider your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars, which You have set in place, 4 what is mankind that You are mindful of them, human beings that You care for them?”
Like Bethlehem, too.
The Christmas story can be understood on one level, and yet on another level not fully known – eschatological complexity. It can be grasped immediately and easily by a child as well as the most sophisticated mind. But if the narrative did not contain a Holy Spirit-inspired eschatological complexity, if that were not embedded in the Christmas story, the story would not be what it is. It would never have endured, fading from human memory centuries ago. But it didn’t. It has endured. It never gets old or tired. It’s always new.
Why? Because God has set eternity in our hearts, and when we hear the story again, and sing those magnificent carols (the real ones!), something to do with ultimate reality arrests us, humbles us, draws us, alerts us – in reverence. Believer and unbeliever alike. If it were only a thing of intricate complexity and depth, little children and the rest of humanity would not understand it or be drawn to it. It would just pass them by. But it doesn’t. It stops us. The essence of eschatological complexity is that God became flesh. In some divine mysterious way He reduced Himself to human form and implanted Himself in His own creation. God incognito! When the Magi – astrologers and sorcerers from Babylon – saw the Christ child, they bowed down and worshipped Him. Why? They saw the One who is the source and Lord of ultimate reality, and they could do no less as the eternity God had set in their hearts stirred and drew them nearer. Simplicity lying in that manger … but intricate eschatological complexity, too - all there at the very same time. O Little Town of Bethlehem!
As someone recently said, “God graciously put Himself into a form that we humans could understand and sense”, and draw near to. “Complexity took on the form of simplicity that night without losing any of the complexity” And that is so powerful, so all-pervading in the spiritual realm, that men and women in all their Christmas rushing about stop at nativity scenes and gaze in reverent wonder. They hush their voices as they sing the carols, because deep inside when they look on these simple forms of Christmas, they somehow sense the eschatological complexity in it all, and ultimate reality registers deep within them the need for their Saviour. Whether they call it that, or not, whether, or not, they fully recognise and understand it, they know something else is here that they need … and they seek it.
This is why we should never stop celebrating Christmas. Eschatological complexity, yet gracious simplicity meet in Bethlehem at the manger each year. The story says it all without words, and it draws us to Jesus once again in worship.
O little town of Bethlehem
How still we see thee lie
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
The silent stars go by
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting Light
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee tonight.
2 Corinthians 4:6 (NIV)
For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," made His light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God's glory displayed in the face of Christ.
May you be richly blessed as you worship the Saviour of the world this week.
Ps Milton
[Sources: New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology and Exegesis, Zondervan; Collected sermon file notes from various preachers; The Olive Branch Community Church, BLOG, “Hopes & Fears of all the years” [quote])