Sermon for Christmas Eve
“And we beheld his glory”
We beheld. Yet we can only behold what we are given to see. What we are given to see is something made. It is not the Word but “the Word made flesh”. The shepherds say “Let us now go even unto Bethlehem and see this thing which is come to pass,” literally, this saying that has happened, this Word that is made flesh. For God is the poet of Christmas night. In Greek, the poet is maker.
The poet makes and makes known. We can only see “this thing which is come to pass,” because “the Lord hath [it] made known unto us.” We can only see in the light of God himself. Where God is, there will his light be also. By the light of God we are caught up into a greater understanding. We are born anew “not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God;” born from above into the company of the one whom we behold now with us. His light perfects our light.
For by our own lights, we see but do not see. Our light is darkness. “He came unto his own and his own received him not.” Our seeing is often without a beholding, without an embracing in faith and understanding what we are given to see; it is without a receiving. But by this greater light – the light of God’s Word – our light is taken up into something more. We are received into what we receive. “We beheld his glory”. The greater light is the light of grace, the grace to behold “the Word made flesh.”
What do we behold? It is almost as an after-thought that we are told in parenthesis that “we beheld the glory as of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.” We behold the glory of the Word and Son of the Father who is Light and Life. As the 2nd century theologian Irenaeus says, “the glory of God is man alive,” but only because “the life of our humanity is the vision of God.”
Word, Light and Son. These are the three great images which belong personally and essentially to Jesus Christ. They are the trinity of his essential divinity, as it were, without which all our celebrations are really nothing but our vain pretensions and protestations against the dying of the light – our light, our dying.
Yet, here is something more without which we are ever less than ourselves, less than what we ourselves would be, less than who we are in God’s sight. Here is God’s Word now with us. Here is God’s Light now illuminating our understanding. Here is God’s Son now become God’s Son for us and with us. For “unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given.” Not that we may possess him and keep him for ourselves, salvation cannot be so selfish, but rather that he might possess us and keep us with himself. He gives himself to all that all might receive him. Such is the divine mystery of love that Christmas makes known to us. Word, Light and Son are the essentials of love.