“Of his fullness have we all received, grace upon grace”
There is a rich fullness to the Christmas season, to be sure. Everything quickly seems all too much. To be sure, Christmas is something which one day cannot presume to capture nor that even an entire season can hope to encompass. There is such an incredible richness to the feast.
And yet, there is but one poor, humble scene of Christmas. It is the stable of Bethlehem. Therein lies all the rich fullness of Christmas. That poor, humble scene contains a great crowd of scenes, a great gathering of Christmasses; in short, it opens to view a rich fullness of grace, even “grace upon grace.” There is more here than meets the eye. It is altogether something for the soul. We are bidden to ponder the Mystery of the Word made flesh. The attitude of the Church is an essentially Marian attitude. “Mary kept all these things” – all these wondrous things that were said about the Child Christ by Shepherds and Angels – “and pondered them in her heart.” Only so can they come to birth and live in us.
There is the Christmas of the Shepherds, the Christmas of the Angels, the Christmas of Mary and Joseph and Christ’s holy birth, the Christmas, too, of Christ’s heavenly, eternal birth for “there was not when he was not.” And then there is the Christmas of the Gentiles in the coming of the Magi, without which, too, we would not have Christmas. For in their coming Christmas is “omni populo,” for all people. In the coming of the Magi, it is Christmas still and yet again and evermore. Christmas is more Christmas, not less, a richer fullness than ever we had envisioned. All come to Bethlehem. All belong to the rich fullness of that poor, poor, humble scene.
The stable at Bethlehem is the great stage upon which the pageant of our redemption is played. This fullness of significance is not something hidden from view. It is made plain in the dance of story and song which weave in and out of the rich tapestry of glory in the days of Christmas: there is the martyrdom of St. Stephen; there is the contemplative vision of St. John the Evangelist; there are the heart-rending deaths of the little ones – the Holy Innocents who die in the name of Christ who has come to die for them and for us; and there is the Circumcision and the Naming of the Holy Child, “his name was called Jesus” by Angels, by Joseph, by Mary, and so by us. There is blood in Bethlehem, the blood of our redemption.
And there is both a journeying to and from Bethlehem – the coming of Shepherds and Angels, on the one hand, and, on the other hand, the Flight into Egypt of the Holy Family. The great pageant of our redemption is played upon the stage of the poor, humble stable of Bethlehem. Is it not a wonder, all this rich fullness of Christmas? Is it not a wonder to behold?
But to behold that scene is not to stand afar off as some mere spectators, as those who look and pass by but do not stop and see, as those who do not enter in to partake of what is given. No. To behold is to enter into what we behold, to be with what we see; in short, to become what we contemplate. Such is the double grace of Christmas, wonderfully captured in John’s profound phrase “of his fullness have we all received, grace upon grace.”
There is the grace of our beholding the wonder which we are given to see. But there is the additional grace of our being with what we behold. The Mystery of Christmas is not some distant and remote scene; it is played ever so close to home. It is the mystery of Emmanuel, the mystery of God with us. We are given to see and we are given to be with what we see.
In prayer and praise, in pageant and song, in Word and Sacrament, we participate in the mystery which we behold. The mystery of God with us is also the mystery of our being with Christ. Such is the rich fullness of Christmas. It is the fullness of the grace of Christ for us. Perhaps, it is all captured in a phrase:
“Of his fullness have we all received, grace upon grace”
Fr. David Curry
AMD Xmas Service
December 8th, 2013