CHRISTMAS EVE, 2019     TEXT: LUKE 2:1-20
     A few weeks after I finished my Ph.D., I flew to Southern California to preach at the ordination of a graduate from the seminary where I was teaching. My mom had some family in the area, so she came out to join me. We went to Disneyland on a free day, and my proud mother insisted on buying me a pair of mouse ears. When asked what name she would like embroidered on them, she promptly replied, “Dr. Jane.” Alas, the clerk told her, we are only able to do one name. “Make it Dr., then,” Mom replied, “she’s been Jane forever; the doctor is new.” To have my academic accomplishment memorialized on a pair of mouse ears struck some of my coworkers as bizarre. It certainly wasn’t the headgear I was expected to wear in future academic processions. I was delighted with the gift. It was so my mom, who knew quite well how much Mickey Mouse activity was involved in getting that degree. Whenever a student or august academic addressed me as “Dr. Strohl,” I would see my mother crowning me with those silly mouse ears and curb my ego.
     Titles are important. They help us identify people, telling us something about who they are and what they do. Some are earned — you are likely to check out the qualifications behind the title “M.D.” before you choose a surgeon, or the experience backing up the Esquire before you hire a lawyer to defend you. Some are accorded — you may watch the shenanigans at a congressional hearing and wonder at some of those nameplates bearing the words “the Honorable.” All you have to do to get that title is win an election; it’s up to you to prove it fits. Some are received by birthright, counts and duchesses and royal families and such. And some are extorted. I read recently that in 2017 China’s Xi Jin-ping got himself awarded seven new titles, including Servant Pursuing Happiness for the People, Leader of a Great Country, and Architect of Modernization in the New Era. For some people “president” just isn’t good enough.
     The nativity story mentions important figures with titles bespeaking authority and power: Governor Quirinius and Emperor Augustus. Indeed, Augustus means exalted, venerable, majestic. In comparison Mary and Joseph are insignificant people. They have to obey the decree for the census, uproot themselves from the town of Galilee where they live and make the four-to-five day trip to Bethlehem, even though Mary is at the end of her pregnancy and hardly in a condition to travel. But the child of this anything but exalted couple comes into the world with titles that God’s people have waited generation upon generation to have bestowed. Titles proclaimed by the prophets, waiting for their rightful heir to arrive:  Savior, Messiah, Christ the Lord, Emmanuel. The name “Jesus” itself derives from the Hebrew verb meaning to save or deliver.  “[Mary] will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus,” the angel had told Joseph in a dream, “for he will save his people from their sins.’ If ever a name proclaimed the bearer’s destiny, this is it.     
     My daughter recently told me a story about one of our favorite actresses, Dame Judi Dench (now her title is well deserved!). She has a fish she named Lazarus. Apparently he has floated to the top of the tank more than once. Just when she thinks he’s done for, the little bugger comes back to life and starts swimming again. I know what that fish feels like — the bad choices I have made with the best of intentions, the hurtful things I have done with the worst of intentions; kindnesses, great and small, I have failed to perform; the sheer weight of need and sorrow, cruelty and injustice in this world that make it hard somedays to simply breathe and put one foot in front of the other. I float to the top of the tank, paralyzed, fading fast. Who hasn’t been there? We gather this night, each one of us with our own portion of pain or guilt or anxiety or some toxic combination platter. The reassuring proclamation is for us, “Do not be afraid; for see — I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people; to you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior ….” This child grows into his birthright; he earns his titles. He counters sin with his own life of grace and truth. In his light we confront our own brokenness; by his grace we move beyond it to mercy — forgiveness for ourselves, forgiveness for others. It ain’t over yet! Swim on, little Lazarus!
     According to the Scriptures, “[a]ll this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet: ‘Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,’ which means, ‘God is with us.’” Emmanuel, the title given to Jesus when first he came into the world, he now shares with us, even as he continues to make himself known. His love embraces us here and now; his mercy endures forever. His story shows us possibilities for being truly human, for shaping our lives, that will not disappoint us. He comes to us and then through us to all the weary world.  “O holy child of Bethlehem, descend to us we pray, cast out our sin, and enter in, be born in us today. We hear the Christmas angels the great glad tidings tell; oh, come to us, abide with us, our Lord Immanuel.” Oh, my friends, hear the angels sing. The heavenly host are praising God and celebrating our new birth! Amen.