This is the sermon I preached this morning for Christmas Day worship. The story is adapted from a wonderful story I found over at Luther Seminary, called "Christmas Moccasins", by Ray Buckley. The Hymn of the day was the "Huron Carol."
Isaiah 52:7-10
John 1:1-14
The night
was cold and the moon was bright one Christmas eve, when a grandmother and her
grandson started on a journey together.
They held hands as they
walked. The grandmother’s moccasins made
barely a sound in the soft snow.
She always wore moccasins.
While they walked along quietly, the
grandson wondered why they were walking this way, and through these woods
together.
He remembered –
and he wondered if the trees remembered – what had happened here earlier in the
winter –what had happened to his grandmother and him.
He wondered if the
trees remembered how three drunken youths had stopped them as they walked
along, how they had hit them, and knocked them down.
How they had
stolen both of their coats, and his grandmother’s moccasins.
He wondered if the
trees remembered that his grandmother had walked home barefoot in the snow, and
that frostbite had taken two of his grandmother’s toes.
And he
wondered why they were walking this way again, on Christmas eve.
When the
boy and his grandmother had returned home that evening months before, they had
not spoken to one another.
Grandmother had heated up water for
drinking, and for washing, and they had washed their faces and soaked their feet.
Then she splashed water on her
face, and she began to pray.
She took out small beads that evening, and she began to sew new
moccasins.
She was a remarkable beader. It was an art.
She used the smallest, most
beautiful, most colorful beads, and she began right away to sew new moccasins.
*****
“How
beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of the messenger who announces
peace,” says the prophet Isaiah in the first reading today.
Today – Christmas Day – it is the
message that we focus on – “Peace on earth, good will to all.”
That is the message of Christmas –
and it's a joyful message.
Originally, the messenger brought
news of the return of the exiles – and the good news was that the Lord was
returning to dwell in Jerusalem.
It’s a joyful
message, and I’ll confess to you, that when I’ve heard these words, “How
beautiful on the mountains are the feet of the messenger who announces peace,”
I’ve often thought of Julie Andrews, singing with all of her heart as she runs through the
hills.
"The Hills are alive..."
“How beautiful on the mountains…..”
Today we focus on the message, the
message of peace on earth, the message that God is dwelling among God’s
people…..
But today,
Christmas Day, I want to focus on – the feet.
Have you
ever wondered about that? How beautiful
are the FEET?
Why not how beautiful are the
eyes? Or how beautiful is the
mouth?
Or even, how beautiful are the
hands? Why beautiful feet? Because when I think of the word “beautiful”
I don’t often think of the word “feet”.
When I think of the word “feet” – I
think more of how tired feet can be after a long day of working, I think of
feet that are dirty after walking, I think of feet pounding the pavement, feet
walking the malls searching for presents.
I think of feet that walk and pace
with babies who need calming, feet that go out searching for lost dogs.
And I think of the feet of the
long-distance runner. And then I think that the messenger’s feet
must have been tired, after delivering such an important message, walking and running over valley and mountain, rivers and deserts.
“How
beautiful are the feet…..,, not just the voice, and not just the eyes, and not
just the hands, but how beautiful are the feet
– the feet that take you there, to
Jerusalem, or to any place that needs peace, that needs to know that God is
present.
How beautiful are the feet –
because the feet walk the earth, the feet get tired, the feet go to the places
that need healing hands and words of forgiveness.
“How beautiful are the feet….”
Because it’s so important to go, it’s so important to be there, not just in
Jerusalem, but here.
How beautiful are the feet that
walk the halls of hospitals, and how beautiful are the feet of the ones who
break bread with the hungry,
And how beautiful are the feet of
the ones who hold hands with the dying, and how beautiful are the feet of the ones
who shelter the homeless.
How
beautiful are the feet of the one who announced, and who brought peace.
How beautiful are the feet of the
one who walked this earth, healing us and feeding us and shedding tears and
bending down and washing feet.
And the
Word became flesh and lived among us, and walked among us. How beautiful.
****
So the boy
and the grandmother walked that Christmas eve.
They held hands, and they held
gifts.
They held three pairs of
moccasins. They were the moccasins that
the grandmother had begun sewing earlier that winter, that very night when they were attacked. They were beautiful and finely beaded.
The grandmother had prayed all the
while she beaded them.
And she did something rare and
beautiful when she beaded those moccasins.
She turned them over and she even beaded the bottoms.
Then she wrapped them up in
paper. And she prayed. She splashed water on her own face, and she
splashed water on her grandson’s face. It was how she prayed.
Then they
put on their coats and stepped on into the snowflakes.
The
grandmother paused at the top of a low hill,
and she paused to pray
again. The boy’s heart pounded. “Why are we here?” he asked.
“Why are we going to see them? On
Christmas eve?
The grandmother answered, “We are
here to do the Creator’s work. We are
here to do the Creator’s work.”
How
beautiful are the feet……
The walk
from the top of the hill to the house below seemed to take forever. Their steps grew slower as the snow swirled
around them. But they finally reached
the doorway.
The door
was opened by a large man. Behind him
was a tree covered with Christmas lights.
“I have small presents for your sons,”
grandmother said. “May I give
them?” She handed each a package carefully
wrapped, and she said to each, “I wanted
to wish you a Merry Christmas. God bless
you.”
The room
was quiet. The three pair of moccasins lay in three sets of hands
– they sparkled in the light, with red and blue, white and yellow. No one spoke.
How
beautiful on the mountains are the feet of the one who announces peace. How beautiful.
The moon
shone down that evening on an old woman with a limp and a little boy holding
onto her coat. They walked through the
grove of trees and paused to touch each one.
And the
word became flesh, and lived among us.
Full of
grace and truth.
How
beautiful are the feet of the One who came among us, announcing peace, bringing
peace.
How
beautiful are the feet of the One who set us free to love one another.
Merry
Christmas.
AMEN
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