From Crib to Cross

Although Christmas day has passed it still seems like Christmas to me because I heard "O Little Town of Bethlehem" on the radio this morning, and because a gift I ordered online for my wife has not yet arrived. Also, we were unable to make it to our daughter's home for Christmas because of snow and ice so we have not yet exchanged gifts. Since it still seems like Christmas I want to share a Christmas communion meditation.*

An episode in the famous television series, MASH, captures some of what Christmas means. It is Christmas day in Korea and the MASH unit is looking forward to a relatively slow day. But the fragile cease fire called for earlier by both sides is broken and casualties will soon be streaming in. The hospital goes into full frenzy, with doctors operating, nurses moving from patient to patient, and Father Mulcahy doing anything he can to help.

Our attention is soon focused on one patient for whom it is obvious that death is waiting nearby. It is Christmas day though, and the staff is determined to keep the soldier alive until December 26 so they won't have to put Dec 25 on the death certificate. They don't want his family to be reminded of his death every Christmas. "Christmas should be a day of birth," says Father Mulcahey.

Long after the rest of the unit has gone off to celebrate the holiday, Hawkeye, B.J., Margaret and Father Mulcahy continue to do all they can to keep the soldier's heart pumping and his lungs filling. Despite their heroic efforts the patient dies around 11:30 PM. All their work seems to have been for naught. In the midst of war and death they had tried to bring a small piece of light. But they had failed. Or so it seems. Just as the tears begin to well up, Hawkeye goes over to the clock on the wall and moves the hands forward to read 12:05 AM. Can they falsify a record? Can they break a serious regulation? Yes. Father Mulcahy reminds them, "Christmas day is a day of birth." So the death certificate reads December 26.

Christmas is, indeed, a day of birth and yet when we gather around the Lord's Table at Christmas time it reminds us of a death. The death of a cherished son. A painful death. A terrible death. But we remember it because our Lord instructed us to remember it.

No one wants to be reminded of a death on Christmas. Especially the death of a cherished son. We know how Hawkeye and his friends felt about remembering a death on this special day. But as we gather with the shepherds around the manger and look at the baby, what do we see? Vulnerability. Helplessness. Just like any other child he is subject to the world around him.

And so we remember. We remember that this one who came on a Christmas night also died on a dark afternoon. We remember that without a death there can be no resurrection. We remember that the one who lived from crib to cross has brought us from cross to crib and given us the gift of new life. And so we remember his words: This is my body ... This is my blood ... and we give thanks.

Our Covenant Commitment Matthew 26:27-28

You may have heard about the chicken and the pig who were out for a morning stroll. Soon they came upon a small diner and out in front was a sign with big bold letters: "HAM AND EGGS -- 99 CENTS." "Oh boy," said Chicken, I could go for that right now. Let's go in." "Well," said Pig thoughtfully, "I don't think I want to do that. For you its just a contribution ... but for me it's total commitment." A lot of people, also, would like to get by with just a contribution. Making a commitment is difficult. It is not always easy because commitments can cost something and may even require a sacrifice.

In the upper room when Jesus gave directions for remembering him with the Lord's Supper he used a term and called for an action that called for total commitment. He held the cup before his disciples and said, "This is my blood of the covenant," and he asked them all to drink of it. Covenants always require commitments, often costly commitments. In this case it cost Jesus his life.

He was committed, but more than that, he was asking for their commitment. When he asked them to drink from the cup of the covenant he was asking for their commitment. He was asking them to form a covenant community that would be committed to him and to each other.

Did the twelve become that committed covenant community? One went out to betray him and was lost. Another went out to deny him, but was redeemed by the resurrected Christ. Others who had been with Jesus earlier joined them. Then, on the day of Pentecost, 50 days after the resurrection, 3,000 more joined them and Luke says of them in Acts 2:42, "They continued steadfastly in the apostles teaching, the fellowship, the breaking of bread and the prayers." Luke goes on to say that the people in that fellowship took care of each other, "as anyone had need." Here is the covenant community, committed to Jesus Christ and to one another, faithfully breaking bread and joining in fellowship.

Each Sunday we renew our commitment as we share in worship and once again hear Jesus' words, "this is my body," and "this is my blood of the covenant," and as we hear him say again, "drink from it, all of you."