First United Methodist Church, Birmingham, Michigan
Scripture: Luke 2:15-20
December 28, 1997
Reading this nativity narrative….and looking for ways to see it fresh….leads me to wonder whether Mary was the kind of mother who kept a baby book. When the Ritters took a gift to the Hooks last Friday, Leigh was talking about something she needed to include in Joy Elisabeth’s baby book. I assume that Matt and Leigh now have four such books. But I am willing to bet that the book for Hunter, their firstborn, is probably the biggest. Not because Hunter is the brightest star in the “Hook Kinder Quartet,” but because Hunter came on the scene when there was no quartet….or even a duet.
Now mind you, I am not being flip. The question of a baby book for Jesus is not all that ludicrous. In fact Luke, in this lovely little touch, suggests that Mary may well have kept one in her heart. I suppose that was the only way she could have kept one, given the fact that there are no Hallmark Card Shops in Bethlehem. I should know. I’ve been there. And I looked.
Actually, it might be interesting to know what Jesus’ baby book might have contained, had Mary written in one. Think about the traditional questions:
· Describe baby’s first Christmas
· Give date, time and place of birth
· Name of attending physician
· Baby’s first visitors
· Baby’s first presents
Whatever may or may not have happened….and whatever it must have felt like when it happened….Mary tucked it all away and held on to it.
But she did more than that. She tried to make sense out of it. For the scripture tells us that she did two things in her heart. She “preserved” what happened and she “pondered” it. Joseph Fitzmayer, who may be the best translator that Luke ever had, traced the original meaning of the verb “to ponder.” It meant much more in the original Greek than it does today. To my way of thinking, to “ponder” something is to reflect casually upon it, with emphasis on the word “casual.” “Pondering,” to me, does not mean “puzzling,” “groping” or “probing.” But it means all of that and more in the Greek. In the original language, it would appear that Mary “tossed these things to and fro in her heart, as one trying to hit upon their correct meaning.”
Well, she is not alone. We who find it far easier to keep Christmas than to understand it, are right in there with her. What do we have here, really? Do we have history? Do we have story? Do we have His….story? How many facts do we have? How many filters are we looking at them through? And what do they mean?
And if that weren’t problematical enough, we are forced to contend with a 2000 year overlay of Christian theology, which suggests that this baby boy is not just any baby boy….but may just be God’s baby boy….and may just be God. Which, you’ve got to admit, is not the easiest thing in the world to comprehend. Certainly Mary didn’t “get it” then….or ever. And Joseph….well, we talked about his astonishment on Christmas Eve. Pretty near bowled him over, it did.
Between the 9:00 and 11:00 service on Christmas Eve, I took a phone call in the church office from Jackie Patt. It seems that Jackie had attended the 9:00 service….heard my story about Joseph being blown over on the front lawn of my previous church….heard my word about Joseph’s inability to comprehend it all (“Oh God, it’s a boy” or “Oh boy, it’s a God”)….and said: “Have I got a Joseph story for you.”
It seems that several years ago….when she was a little girl growing up in this church….Jackie was Mary. The occasion was a Christmas pageant which took place in Fellowship Hall. And she looked very lovely….and entered very properly….and sat very serenely….in a chair, just for her, on the stage. She was backed by Joseph, fronted by Jesus, and surrounded by angels. Joseph’s hands rested comfortably on the back of her chair. Until the chair began to shake. First gently. Then violently. Followed by a small Josephean thud….and by a large angelic scattering….as Joseph fainted dead away.
Well, not quite “dead away.” Stagehands dragged him off. The show went on. And the audience was none the wiser. But something got to Joseph. And as to whether Jackie (or the original Mary) have figured it out yet, who can say?
But while you are working on that, I want to interrupt your concentration for awhile to tell you the story of the twins, John and Michael. Don’t worry about how the story fits anything that has gone before. Just listen to it.
John and Michael were identical twins with an incredible capacity for numbers. You may have read about them or seen the television documentary about their lives. They have been the subjects for numerous psychological tests and experiments. Their talent for numbers is truly amazing. The twins will ask you to give them a date taken from any point in the calendar over the last 4,000 years, or projected into the next 4,000 years. So you give them a date, something like April 19, 1356, A.D. and they will tell you on what day of the week it fell. Their memory for digits is remarkable and, evidentially, unlimited.
Furthermore, they seem to have total recall from about their fourth birthday on. You ask them what happened on February 4, 1940. Their eyes will roll for a minute, fixate, and then they will recite the weather on that day, the events of history that happened then, and the things they remember as having experienced personally, on that date, in their lives.
Some of those memories evoke the painful anguish of their childhood, including the contempt, the jeers, and the mortification they endured as children. Because, you see, the twins are physically deformed, mentally retarded, and classified as “schizoid.” They have spent most of their lives in mental hospitals. Their performances with numbers, apart from the controlled experiments they do for the psychiatrists, are little more than “routines” they have developed to entertain people at hospital talent shows and ward parties.
I am told that they belong to a class known as “autistic-savants,” and that they are mentally defective in all areas except one. But in that area they perform with extraordinary power. When asked how they can do what they do with numbers, the twins say: “We see them.” And, evidently, they really do. It would seem that they see them with some inner eye, given that you can see their eyes rolling, as if they are viewing a rapidly-rewinding tape, which contains the trillion or more events that have occurred in their lifetime.
To those of us who must carry around notes reminding ourselves of what we are supposed to do on any given day, and then (more often than not) lose the notes, such powers are uncommon to say the least. But there have been others with similar capacities. If you are among those who marveled at the movie Amadeus, you recall much discussion about the genius of Mozart. You will especially recall how incomprehensible Mozart’s genius appeared to his arch-rival, the court composer, Scoliari. It appeared that Mozart could see the melodies and harmonies of entire pieces in his head, so that the act of composing on paper resembled an act of copying notes already seen, rather than the tedious efforts of trial and error.
In fact, it is said of Mozart that when he was two years old, he was taken to a pig farm. Upon hearing a pig squeal, Mozart apparently shouted “G sharp.” Sure enough, someone ran to a piano and G sharp it was.
The twins have a similar genius, only for numbers. Once a box of matches fell to the floor. Instantaneously and simultaneously the twins called out: “One hundred and eleven.” This happened to be the exact number of all the matches when picked from the floor and counted. But the twins said: “We did not count them, even by sound. We just saw one hundred and eleven.”
But forget the stunts. Listen to what the twins do to amuse themselves in private. One day the psychologist saw them sitting quietly in the corner of the ward. He noticed a smile on their faces, the kind of smile that radiated an inner serenity that we have often called “a sense of calm and peace.” The psychologist sat down quietly, in a way that enabled him to listen to them, unobserved. John would say a six-figure number. Then Michael would catch the number, nod, smile, then offer a six-digit number of his own. John would acknowledge Michael’s number, as if appreciating it in the way that a connoisseur of art would appreciate an object of great beauty.
Puzzled by this, the psychologist wrote down the numbers they were reciting, in hopes of finding some thread of meaning. Later, at home, it came to him. Each of the numbers was a prime number, meaning that it could not be divided evenly by any other whole number except the number one. So the psychologist got a book of prime numbers and began to study them.
He took the book with him the next time he returned to the hospital. Finding the twins reciting prime numbers of six digits, he waited until they got used to his physical presence. Eventually, and very quietly, he inserted into the conversation his own number, a eight-digit prime. The twins were startled. They stopped. Then they stared at him for a complete minute. Finally they nodded, and smiled. They got it!
In fact, it was a double joy that came into their faces. There was the joy of considering a brand new number. And there was the joy of discovering a brand new player. They moved their chairs, the better to include him in. Then John thought of a new number. A nine-digit prime. Michael responded with a nine-digit prime of his own. The psychologist, who had a cheat-sheet hidden in his hand, peeked downward, adding a ten-digit prime. John and Michael engaged in deep thought, then each produced a twelve-digit number. Now the psychologist was out. His crib sheet only went to ten figures. But an hour later the game was still going on, with both boys up to twenty-digit primes.
Well, the psychologist drew some fascinating conclusions from all of this. He concluded that the twins, who incidentally can’t calculate, do basic arithmetic, divide or subtract, nevertheless have what can only be called “a sense for numbers.” They possess this gift in the same way that musicians have “a sense for harmony.” Indeed, in publishing his research findings, the psychologist compared Michael and John to musicians, even quoting the words of Sir Thomas Browne:
Whoever is harmonically composed delights in harmony and delights, further, in a profound contemplation of the First Composer.
But maybe it is not just music and math that can tap into the greater harmonies and wholeness of God’s marvelous universe. Maybe other disciplines can do so as well. One day someone asked the great atomic physicist, Robert Oppenheimer about the quotations on the blackboard in his laboratory: “Why do you do all of this?” And referring back to his quotations, Oppenheimer said: “Because they are so beautiful.”
But push the idea a little bit further. You’ve come this far, don’t give up on me now. Listen to Mark Trotter’s amazing suggestion that perhaps the soul is harmonical. No matter what your intelligence….no matter what your education….maybe the soul responds (resonates, if you will) to wholeness and harmony. In fact, it may be that the soul not only resonates to harmony, but goes looking for it.
And what the twins show us is this. Perhaps when our lives are deprived of the capacities that ordinary people develop in order to function in this so-called normal world….capacities like brainpower, schooling and socialization….then maybe (in some exaggerated way) the soul becomes free to do what it was created to do, namely to seek out and experience the harmony and wholeness in all of creation. Perhaps it is nothing less than the capacity to behold the First Composer…the Most Prime Number….or, in more traditional language, to see God as He is.
If what I am saying is even remotely true, then it follows that reason cannot find God. Neither can it see him. Reason can frame the right questions for the search. And reason can organize whatever answers there may be. But the mind cannot grasp God. And if it could, He wouldn’t be God; for the lesser cannot grasp the greater. Which makes faith not only a matter of believing things, but also a matter of sensing them….sensing the harmony that is in all things….and, through the harmony, sensing the First Composer.
Back, then, to Christmas. How can Mary “toss all of these things to and fro” and hope to hit upon their right meaning? How can any of us? Can Christmas be comprehended? Or must it be apprehended? Do we think our way into Christmas with the head? Or do we feel our way into Christmas with the heart? Have you ever noticed that at every crucial point in the New Testament, where the writer stops trying to tell what happened, and starts trying to articulate the idea that God is present in the midst of what’s happening, that the language borders on the fantastic and the incredible.
At Jesus’ birth, angels sing in the skies.
At Jesus’ baptism, a mysterious voice is heard from heaven.
At Jesus’ death, darkness covers the earth and earthquakes shake the very rocks apart.
At Jesus’ resurrection, angels appear, as does an unrecognized gardener. What’s more, there is an empty tomb and a body that can walk through doors.
At Pentecost, mysterious tongues of flame come to rest on the heads of the disciples, accompanied by the roaring of a gale-force wind.
Incredible language! And the writer chooses it precisely because it strains and defies credibility. For so does the idea of a God who enters human history. Therefore, why should Christmas be credible? Why should Mary understand it? Why should any of us? As with Joseph, out blowing in the wind, we lean heavenward, not quite knowing whether to shout:
“Oh God, it’s a boy”….or
“Oh boy, it’s a God.”
But, you see, the heart knows there is something here in Christmas. Something that hints of harmony….not just the kind of harmony that exists when people are a little kinder to each other in December….but the kind of harmony that exists when people are sucked out of themselves, into something bigger than themselves and, therefore, closer to God.
Let me take you back (as we close) to the story of the twins. After being together for something like 40 years, it was decided by the professionals who cared for them, to separate them (“for their own good”). It was hoped that the separation would end their unhealthy communication, the better that they might develop other capacities that would enable them to lead more normal lives. So in 1997 they were separated, put in halfway houses, and given menial jobs to do in the community. As a result, they lost their powers. For without their communion with each other, they lost their sense of the wholeness of things.
Well, perhaps there is a parable there, too. If the birth of Jesus is meant to be a visual reminder of the God in whom the wholeness of things resides, I suppose it is imperative that we maintain communion with him. So, if I were you, I wouldn’t get too far from Jesus. At any rate, it’s worth pondering.
