Luke 1:39-45 NRSV

It’s the Fourth Sunday of Advent, and all our waiting and expectation is almost over. We have gathered here this morning and will gather here again Tuesday evening if we are able to receive once again the long-expected baby Jesus. Even in this dark time, we are like Mary’s cousin Elizabeth, as something inside of us is leaping for joy!

Our anticipation stands in sharp contrast to that first Christmas, when this baby was not received by everyone. In response to the good news of Christmas, Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb!” But not everyone thought of Christmas as good news.

The shepherds were filled with fear. King Herod, despite all his soldiers guarding him at the Palace, was sore afraid, driven to commit unspeakable acts, as he saw this baby’s birth as a threat to the empire. Even Joseph, the man engaged to Mary, didn’t readily receive the baby. In the beginning he spent many a sleepless night questioning: “Who’s really the father of this baby?”

In our sentimentalization of Christmas, we tend to forget that Jesus was conceived by a woman who was not married. The church and society have a history of giving ugly names to such babies. Thankfully, I don’t here many children called the “b-word” anymore. It is such a sad and offensive name to describe a child, so ugly that I find it inappropriate to say aloud from this pulpit, especially on this last Sunday before Christmas.

I do, however, sometimes hear the word illegitimate, to describe such children.  And that too, illegitimate, is a sad, ugly term for anybody, much less the very Son of God. Today, we also use other sad and ugly terms for children: “illegal,” “alien,” “vermin” and “abomination.”

In contrast to that very first Christmas where very few received this baby, in a few days, we will gather with the Church around the world to welcome and embrace the baby. With triumphant voices we will sing, “Come let us adore the baby!”

And there’s a counter miracle occurring here. We embrace the baby, but this baby is also embracing us. In the birth of Jesus, God came close to us, because we didn’t believe we were worthy enough to come close to God. So, before we congratulate ourselves on our willing and eager reception of this baby, let us wonder at this baby’s reception of us.

Not knowing we could reach up to God, without getting killed, in love and with love, God reaches down to us. God takes on our humanity so that we might know that we are a part of God’s divinity. God came as a child to show us that we are all beloved children of God. With every child born, we are born into this world in the image of God. We all have divine value, a sacred worth, a holy purpose. We were born in love, of love, for love, to love.

As someone who has been in the church for nearly sixty years now, and a minister for almost 40 of those years, people often tell me that I should write a book—A wonderful book of church stories filled with stories about you.

A Presbyterian minister from Northhaven, Minnesota did just that. In his book entitled, The Good News from Northhaven, Michael Lindval writes about his Presbyterian congregation.

It was his first Thanksgiving as pastor of the church. On the Sunday after Thanksgiving they were having an infant baptism. Much like the baptism of Phyllis Rose we had on the Sunday before Thanksgiving, the congregation was full of friends and relatives of the couple whose child was being baptized. Dr. Angus McDonald II, and his lovely wife, proudly presented their new son, Angus III, otherwise known as Skip, to be baptized. And the entire church could not have been more happy.

When it was time for the baptism, Rev. Lindval turned to the congregation and asked what is traditionally asked in some churches that baptize infants. He addressed the congregation and asked: “Who comes to stand with this child?”

Immediately, the grandparents, aunts and uncles and an assortment of relatives and friends, stood up and joined the parents at the front as they held the baby, presenting the baby for baptism.

When the service was over, after the congregation shook the minister’s hand upon exiting the church, Rev. Lindval, walked back through the sanctuary and noticed that one person had remained. He recognized her as someone who always sat on the back pew, closest to the back door.  She was a social worker, he remembered.

He greeted her, telling her he was glad to see her in worship, but she seemed to be at a loss for words.

After an awkward silence, she commented on how lovely the baptism was, and then, fumbling for words, said to the pastor, “One of my clients, her name is Tina. She has had a baby, and well, Tina would like to have the baby baptized.”

The pastor suggested that Tina should make an appointment to come to see him, along with her husband, and then they would discuss the possibility of baptism.

The woman looked up at the pastor and said, “Tina doesn’t have a husband.  She is not a member of this church but attended the youth group some when she was in Junior High. But then she got involved with this older boy. And now she has this baby. She’s only 17.”

The pastor awkwardly mumbled that he would bring the request before the next meeting of the Session, their church’s board meeting.

When the pastor presented the request before the Session, as you might imagine, there was some questions.  “Who’s the father?” “Where’s the father?”  The pastor said that he didn’t know. “Does Tina have any other family?” “I don’t know,” the pastor said. Heads turned.

“How could they be sure that Tina would be faithful to the promises that she was making in the baptism?” was a concern brought by more than one.

The pastor only responded by shrugging his shoulders, but thought to himself, “How could they really be sure about anybody’s promise?”

With much reservation, the Session reluctantly approved the baptism of Tina’s baby for the Fourth Sunday of Advent.

When the Fourth Sunday of Advent came, the sanctuary was full as children were home from college and many of the members had invited guests. They went through the service singing the usual Advent hymns, lighting the advent candle, and so forth. Then, it came time for the baptism.

The pastor announced, “And now, would those to be presented for baptism come forward.”  An elder of the church stood up and read off the three-by-five note card, indicating that he did not remember the woman or the child’s name, “Tina Corey presents her son, James, for baptism.”  The elder sat back down with an obvious look of discomfort on his face.

Tina got up from where she was seated and came down to the front, holding two-month-old James in her arms. A blue pacifier was stuck in his mouth. The scene was just as awkward as the pastor and the elders knew it would be.

Tina seemed so young, so poor, and so alone.

But as she stood there… holding that baby… with poinsettias and a Chrismon tree shining brightly in the foreground, they could not help but to think of another poor mother with a baby, young, alone, long ago, in somewhat similar circumstances. Yes, in another place and time, Tina and Mary seemed like sisters.

And then the pastor came to that appointed part of the service when he asked, “And who stands with this child?”  He looked out at the mother of Tina, who came that day, dressed in a very meager way, and nodded toward her. She, almost hesitantly stood and moved toward her daughter and her grandson.

The pastor’s eyes went back to his service book to proceed with the questions to be asked of the parents when he became aware of movement within the congregation.

A couple of elders of the church stood up. And many, on the same row as those elders, stood up beside them. Then the Junior High Sunday School teacher stood up. Then a new young couple in the church stood up. And then, before the pastor’s astonished eyes, the whole church was standing, and moved forward, clustering around the baby.

Tina began cry. Lindvall writes that Tina’s mother gripped the altar rail as if she were clutching the railing of a tossing ship, “which in a way she was”—a ship in a great wind. Moving forward this day so much closer to the ultimate destination of us all. And little James, as the water, touched his forehead, grew peaceful and content, as if he could feel the warm embrace of the entire congregation. Every person in the room was standing if this was their child, as if they were all family.

The scripture reading was from 1 John 3:1, “See what love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are.”

On Tuesday night, we will gather here to celebrate the birth of a baby born into our family. But it is by this baby that we have been made family.

Maybe you came to this service this morning and plan to come Tuesday night all by yourself. Maybe you do not have much family, maybe you lost the family you had, or perhaps your family is far away.

But on this Fourth Sunday of Advent, here, right now, do you hear that rustling in the pews around you?

It’s the sound of your family. It’s the whole human family, taking shape around the manger.

Christmas means the Word has become flesh and is dwelling among us.

And what is that word?

“See what love the Father has given to us so we should be called children of God. And so we are” (1 John 3:1).

For unto us a child is born, so we will understand that we are all born in love, connected by love, bound together with love.

For unto us a child is born, so no child born should ever be called “illegitimate,” “illegal,” “alien,” “vermin” or an “abomination.”

For unto us a child is born, so we will stand up to stand with all God’s children.

For unto us a child is born, so every child will be welcomed, loved, and affirmed; every child will know their divine value, their sacred worth, and holy purpose.

For unto us a child is born, so all children will receive the hospitality of a cold cup of water, a hot meal, and warm shelter.

For unto us a child is born, so every child can be safe from gun violence, at home and at school, can live lives of peace, free of violence of any kind.

For unto us a child is born, so every child will have access to equitable education, a fair living wage, affordable healthcare, equal protection under the law—everything they need for a future full of promise, potential and peace.

For unto us a child is born, so every child will know freedom, justice, hope, and love.

For unto us a child is born, so every child will experience life: abundant and eternal.

For unto us a child is born, so blessed is the fruit of every womb.