On Sunday afternoon, I snuck into the Sanctuary here to watch the children in their final dress rehearsal for tonight’s 5:00 Pageant. Barbara Kessell was performing her magic with sixty children, most of them from the ages two through eight. Lambs, angels, camels and an occasional Mary and Joseph were all milling around paying attention to Barbara as much as children of that age can. With patience and humor she called out lines and song words and directions. Near me in the pew waited little Elliot Gelbach, ready to be called forward at any time to be the Baby Jesus. His mother, Hope, was holding him and I thought briefly about the fact that they must have been sitting there for almost an hour but he didn’t seem tired or fussy. At first I wasn’t really noticing him as I focused on the rehearsal, hoping that all the children had their lines memorized and could be heard and understood even for people who would be sitting in the very back of the crowded sanctuary. I gradually had the feeling that someone was looking at me and as I turned my head toward Elliot, he grinned and squirmed and cooed, looking me in the eye and begging for my attention. It was irresistible. How could I ignore that little human being offering me adoring looks and spontaneously eliciting adoring looks back from me? Our exchange happened so quickly. It wasn’t anything I could have planned or controlled. Some human instinct deep inside of me responded to his offer of adoration, even just for a moment, and I found myself making silly faces and cooing noises in the way adults do. He didn’t roll his eyes as an older child might do but just squirmed and grinned for more. I was smitten. He didn’t ask me how much money I make, how big my house is, how many college degrees I have or what title is on my business card. For some reason, it didn’t seem to matter to him. Even when I would briefly look away, he would call me back to himself with a movement or a sound. Somehow he tapped a hunger deep inside of me that I couldn’t resist. He pulled me away from my public understanding of myself, as one with responsibilities as a church pastor during the busiest week of the year. He poked through that protective balloon faster than I could even realize. Then, quickly it was over as Barbara called for him to come up with the other children and be placed in the Moses basket used as the Manger in the story that we cherish and celebrate tonight.

What could it have been like for Joseph and Mary as their baby was born into the world on that first Christmas? They had traveled from Galilee to Bethlehem, about sixty miles by donkey and on foot, to the family town of Joseph. Bethlehem was not a quiet little village, as sometimes portrayed, but a town with a long history as the city of King David and a busy location on a major trade and travel thoroughfare. It is likely that many of Joseph’s other relatives had already arrived in the family home and filled the living space. The couple may have tried to get a room in a boarding house or inn but the Greek word used by Luke can also mean living space. A house was traditionally a large room or two above a cave-like space where the family’s animals found food and shelter. Knowing that Mary was so close to delivery, perhaps the family offered them this protected, less-crowded place to await the birth. Before much time had passed, "she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger because there was no room for them in the living space." This Messiah, this Savior for whom people hungered was placed in a manger, a feeding trough full of hay for the sheep and goats. We don’t know of the reaction of Joseph’s relatives or any of their Bethlehem friends when the baby arrived. No angels were blowing horns in the house or out on the street. No bright lights or stars suddenly appearing. The star came many days later as the Magi from the east were directed through Jerusalem and finally to Bethlehem. There was no "breaking in" news bulletin from CNN on that precious night. It leaves us wondering if those closest to Mary and Joseph had any idea of the importance of this very special baby. Apparently, the shepherds were the first to get the news. Encouraged by the angels, they rushed to see the baby. Imagine those wandering shepherds who spent most of their time in the hills with their sheep, peering in to see the baby in the warm hay of the manger. Do you suppose that Mary offered to let them hold the baby, by then just a few days old? Did Jesus wrap his little fingers around their much larger ones; look at them, and surprise them with a baby’s vulnerability and trusting love? His mere existence was nurturing food for the hearts of the shepherds who spent most of their time with sheep and goats and the empty night sky. No wonder "they departed glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen."

Then, miracles upon miracles, Jesus grew to become a man offering to the world an adult version of that same non-judgmental, uncompromising love and acceptance. That kind of love is sometimes thought of as foolish and doesn’t fit cultural expectations coming from anyone else but a baby. The truth is, however, that we long for it. We hunger for it most of the time but especially when our lives are turned inside out. It is the love that keeps us going, that nurtures us when we feel especially vulnerable at times of the loss of job or death of a loved one or the fear of orange alerts and airport closures due to terrorist threats. When life does not seem right or fair we long for one to assure us, to comfort us. God’s love that we know through Jesus turns the world upside down because its not expected. It challenges the status quo. It doesn’t make sense. The woman at the well who was an outcast Samaritan with a checkered past was the one he approached for a conversation and a cup of water. So amazed at his attention and concern for her, she ran off telling her experience to everyone she met. Jesus told stories of loving fathers welcoming home both prodigal sons and overly responsible pouting sons – of loving them equally. He told of outsiders rather than priests stopping to help victims who had been beaten and left by the side of the road. Jesus taught that the blessed ones are the poor, the gentle, those who mourn, those who forgive and those who make peace regardless of the price. His words respond to our deepest hunger. He offers us love and acceptance, all of us: the Mayan farmer picking coffee beans in Guatemala and the Tiburon CEO drinking coffee at Starbucks; the hungry woman standing at the freeway exit and the restaurant owner living in Mill Valley; the ones celebrating a joyous marriage and the ones saddened and separated this Christmas by a marriage that did not survive. As he offers us that love, he challenges us to share it with those we see each day, no matter how unlovable they might seem from time to time.

Why did he come as a baby in a manger? If God had come only as an adult would we have understood the importance of vulnerability, the life-giving nourishment that comes when we open ourselves to God’s unconditional love? It is hard to resist a blessed baby. This Christmas, may we recognize and experience that divine love that is offered to us in the gift of God’s precious Son. Tonight, Come, let us adore him!