Christmas, at least in western culture, is a season that is an amalgamation of secular and religious celebrations.  In American culture the assimilation of the celebrations is so complete that even those who insist they are participating in a religious observance often merely co-opt the established secular (and materialistic) expression of the season.  Consequently, the observance of Christmas is fulfilled with the opening of presents and a festive meal shared with family and friends.  Within a mere 24 hours life returns to its mundane normality. 

Yet the liturgical calendar insists that Christmas is a season that begins (not ends) on Christmas day.  So the question, to use a well-worn cliché, is what is the meaning of the season?

Unfortunately, much of the church struggles to articulate what we are celebrating since the focus is exclusively on the the birth of Jesus — and this understanding has become popularized by referencing Christmas as “Jesus’ birthday.”  And although the acknowledgement of the birth of Jesus is an aspect of Christmas, this understanding falls short of significant meaning.  For you see, the problem with focusing exclusively on the birth of Jesus is that it relegates Christmas to history — to being little more than the remembrance of a past event that is far removed from the realities of life as we experience it in our modern world.  And if we can’t make any relevant connections between Christmas and our daily lives, then I think we must reconsider exactly what (if not why) we are celebrating.

For American Christianity, if not Western Christianity, the significance of Christmas is derived almost exclusively from the birth narrative found in the Gospel according to Luke.  In fact, Luke’s account of the birth of Jesus is so prevalent that it is the basis for most of our Christmas carols and is what is depicted on Christmas cards.  Even the lectionary underscores the centrality of Luke.  According to the lectionary, the choices for the season’s texts are either the birth narrative as recorded in Luke’s gospel or the prologue of the gospel of John (which does not lend itself to picturesque depictions). 

And yet, there is another description of the Christmas story — the one recorded in the Gospel according to Matthew.  In a scant eight verses, we are invited to consider a different dimension of Christmas.  Although Matthew is talking about the birth of Jesus, the lack of details surrounding the birth event itself invites us to contemplate a larger and unfolding meaning.  Here the suggestion is that Christmas goes beyond the celebration of the anniversary of Jesus’ birth.  Jesus’ birth is important, but not because it happened within the context of the extraordinary events of an angelic visitation; a virgin giving birth; singing choirs of angels; and shepherd witnesses.  Rather, Matthew’s account insists that we catch sight of the fact that Christmas occurred within the context and realities of ordinary human life — in the midst of doubt, fear, confusion, betrayal, infidelity, mercy, forgiveness, and love.  In other words, what makes Christmas profound is that it takes place in the midst of life as we humans know and experience it.  Matthew insists that Christmas and the experience of the extraordinary is encountered only in the midst of the ordinary.

In Matthew’s gospel, the “birth narrative” simply makes mention of the fact that Mary is pregnant — despite being only betrothed to Joseph.  Indeed, the extraordinary circumstances concerning Mary’s conception are barely acknowledged.  Significantly, in the Greek text, there is no definite article before “holy spirit.”  In one sense Matthew is simply acknowledging that which all ancient peoples believed — namely that God is always present in the conception of a child.  Matthew’s emphasis isn’t on the extraordinary circumstances surrounding the conception and birth of Mary’s child.  Matthew isn’t concerned with establishing the miraculous within the historical.  Rather, Matthew’s focus is on that which transcends the historical event.  For Matthew the significance of Christmas is found in our responses to the divine within the human realm — our response to the extraordinary within the ordinary; to the sacred being revealed within the midst of the profane.

Such a response to the Divine within our midst is highlighted by Joseph’s struggle and response to the news of Mary’s pregnancy.  Joseph, Matthew tells us, is a “righteous” or “just” man.  For Matthew, as with most first century Jews, being righteous means to observe the Law and keep the commandments.  And yet, in the same sentence that Matthew acknowledges Joseph being “a righteous man,” we are told that Joseph has decided to disregard the Law — being “unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, [he] planned to dismiss her quietly.” 

The Law clearly called not only for Mary’s exposure as an adulteress but that she be stoned for her infidelity.  How is it that a “righteous” person can completely disregard the teaching of the Bible?  I believe the answer is found in the very real tension experienced between keeping the “letter of the Law” and living in Love.  Joseph’s struggle is the “you-have-hear-it-said-but-I-say-to-you” tension that Jesus will later emphasize in the “Sermon on the Mount.”  This is the tension between our prevailing understanding of God and God’s commandments and the new thing God seeks to do in our lives and in our world.  In other words, the meaning of this story concerning the birth of Jesus cannot be fully understood until one has worked through the meaning of the Sermon on the Mount.  For you see, Christmas, if it is to be real, must impact how we live our daily lives.  The Christmas life challenges our prevailing understanding of God’s will and commandments and urges us to embrace the saving and life-giving Word as revealed in the human life of Jesus.

The final clue we have that the birth of the Christ child transcends a physical birth that occurred some two thousand years ago is the name that is to be given to the child.  For our ancestors, naming was an important event that was never entered into lightly.  In the Jewish tradition the naming of the child was incorporated into the rite of circumcision — the rite whereby the child was acknowledged as a member of the covenant people of God.  What is interesting is that Joseph is instructed to give the child a common and ordinary name rather than a name that would set him apart and call attention to his divine calling.  Jesus, which is the Greek rendering of Joshua, was a very common and popular name in first century Israel.  In other words, what would distinguish this child was not revealed in his name.  What would distinguish this Jesus from all the others was that he would live his life as Emmanuel — embodying God’s presence in the world.  In his humanity the fullness of God is pleased to dwell.  In his life, heaven is joined to earth and earth to heaven.  This reality is most obvious when Jesus boldly lives into the “you-have-heard-it-said-but-I-say-to-you” tension by embodying Love — even at the expense of the Law and religious tradition.  The life of Jesus is distinguished by his willingness to incarnate Love in a fearful and violent world that is not unlike our own. 

The Christmas message is not about an historical birth of a child some 2,000 years ago.  Christmas, according to Matthew, is ultimately about Emmanuel — God with us.  Christmas is about life — a real life fraught with the real struggles imposed by fear, doubt, betrayal, infidelity, trust, mercy, forgiveness, compassion, and righteousness.  As Teresa of Avila noted, our problem is not our human struggles.  Our problem is that we live our lives as though God were absent — becoming so caught up in our daily struggles that we fail to perceive God’s presence in our midst.  In other words, we miss the forest for the trees. 

Christmas is the cyclical reminder of God’s presence in the midst of ordinary life — of the extraordinary being within the ordinary, the sacred within the secular, the divine within the human.  The good news of Christmas is that Emmanuel has come and that truly God is with us — in our joys and in our sorrows; in our hopes and in our failures; in our loves and in our disputes.  Emmanuel awakens within each one of us the reality of the incarnation.  It is in humanity, in you and me, that heaven is joined to earth and earth to heaven.  Christmas is the celebration of Emmanuel — that through us, through you and me, the Dream of God becomes an incarnated reality, on earth, even as it is in heaven.