And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night.  An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” (Luke 2: 8-12)

Last night I had the privilege of attending a Peace Vigil in front of the Court House in Brockville, my hometown.  We gathered on the sidewalk, held candles and walked the perimeter of the Courthouse green (or in my case, stayed put but held my candle), in silence, bearing a silent witness to a commitment to a ceasefire in Gaza.  Following a ½ hour vigil, we all went together to a multi-faith worship service in a nearby church, and together with a range of faiths, beliefs and unbeliefs, committed to a world that recognizes the humanity of everyone and the need to uphold life for all.  The worship service was framed in the 3^rd Sunday of Advent in the Christian tradition – the Sunday of Hope.

Hope.  Hope in a place that we Christians recognize is the birthplace of our Saviour.  Hope as more than 20,000 people, mainly civilians, have been killed.  Hope in a place where 40% of the casualties are children.  Hope in the place of unspeakable horror. 

I have been thinking a lot of the concept of Hope this season because I think that we in the Western Christian church have gotten the idea of Hope wrong.  We have framed ‘hope’ as being a world where people are comfortable, where people are getting what they think they want and where material comfort and physical comfort is the expected outcome.  I have heard Hope framed also in terms of nostalgia and a return to the Hallmark movie kind of seasonal celebrations where people fall in love, morals are upheld and everyone returns to a place of “tidings of comfort and joy”. 

Our Christmas story isn’t a very comfortable story.  And its definitely not a story that ends in a place of material and physical comfort.  Its, instead, a disruptive and uncomfortable story of a displaced couple, a baby born in pretty ordinary and rough circumstances, of shepherds being terrified in the middle of their shift and of scholars pursuing a star, looking for a king but ending up standing in front of ordinary place with a family that has to flee for their lives over the border. 

It’s a story that is ugly.  Is gritty.  And in many ways is horrifying. 

And yet – that’s the place of our salvation. 

That’s the place where God is incarnate. 

Incarnate in a couple that were forced away from comfort because of a political edict.

Incarnate in a baby born without the support of family and community, and in a place that is rough even by first century standards.

Incarnate in the toddler as he and his parents run for their lives to escape his murder. 

There aren’t any ‘tidings of comfort and joy’ in our Christmas story, and in our efforts to make this holiday about our comfort that we have lost the truth of Hope in this place.

The truth that God comes to the ugliest of circumstances. 

The truth that the Incarnation that we talk about every year at this time, didn’t happen to make us comfortable or to give us ease. 

And so maybe the Hope is something else.  Maybe salvation is something else.  Maybe it isn’t about wishful thinking or feel-good sentimentality, but is instead

Looking into the ugliness of circumstances; the most terrifying of experiences; the grittiest part of life and seeing God incarnate in those times.  Seeing God in the wholeness of our lives, not in the comfort of our lives. 

And then, if we really believe that God is there.  If God really is in the wholeness of our world, then we, as Christians, at this time of year when we celebrate the incarnation of God, we need work to preserve this place of hope. 

And call for a ceasefire in our Saviour’s birthplace. Because God is there.  And that is our hope. 

Blessings this Advent Day, my Bethel friends, and remember that you are Loved.

~Rev. Lynne