An Iconoclastic Christmas -- FPC sermon excerpt

Christmas is all about seeing things differently.

Breaking traditional images. Getting outside the box.

You might think that the visit of Mary to Elizabeth is just a meeting between two pregnant women. But you’d be wrong. It’s the introduction of a messiah named Jesus to a prophet named John (Luke 1:39-45).

And how about the kick of an unborn child? A natural part of pregnancy? Yes, but wait — there’s more: It’s the muscle-flexing of John the Baptist, leaping for joy (v. 44).

For most people, an unplanned pregnancy is a serious problem. But for Mary, it’s a reason to rejoice in the great things that God is doing (vv. 46-49).

And the child that Mary is carrying — he’ll be a mighty king, but not a traditional one. Instead, he will be the messiah God uses to bring down the powerful, and lift up the lowly (v. 52).

Christmas shatters our expectations, and pushes us outside the box — including the beautifully-decorated holiday box. It blows away our understandings of what usually happens when two women get together. It helps us to see things differently — to see a hug between Mary and Elizabeth as a meeting between Jesus and John, a kick in the belly as a fist-bump of recognition, a song of praise as a celebration of God’s ability to turn the world upside-down.

Christmas turns us into iconoclasts. Yes, iconoclasts. “Image-breakers.”

That’s what the word means, literally. To be an iconoclast is to be a person who attacks traditional images, ideas or institutions. We celebrate an Iconoclastic Christmas when we accept that God “has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty” (vv. 51-53).

To celebrate an Iconoclastic Christmas is to worship an Iconoclastic God.

This sounds scary to some, because it seems so destructive. But the fact is that image-breakers are not devoted to destruction — the work they do is usually quite creative and constructive. According to Fast Company magazine (October 2008), iconoclasts do what tradition-minded people say cannot be done, and they do it by seeing things differently.

Consider Walt Disney. He was a decent illustrator who could have made a living drawing cartoons on pieces of paper. But he realized animation’s full potential when he saw his little drawings projected on the big screen. That’s seeing things differently.

Or Florence Nightingale. It was long-believed that soldiers died from injuries, not disease. Then Nurse Nightingale discovered that death rates dropped when the sewers of army barracks were flushed.

And an engineer named Burt Rutan? He advanced aerospace engineering by building aircraft that are strong but light. Before him, the focus was always on creating bigger engines.

These are all iconoclasts — image-breakers. They see things differently, shatters traditions, and make contributions that are creative and constructive.

So how does iconoclasm connect to Mary and Elizabeth? These two are people who see things not for what they are, but for what they might be. The traditional understandings of the first century trapped these women in the box of second-class citizenship, with a load of shame being placed on Mary, an unwed mother.

But Elizabeth sees things differently. When Mary greets her and John gives her a kick in the womb, Elizabeth says, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me?” (vv. 41-43). With the help of the Holy Spirit, Elizabeth sees that God is breaking tradition and doing things differently, by sending the Lord Jesus into the world through a young girl named Mary.

Then Mary herself makes an iconoclastic response. She says, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant” (vv. 46-48). She praises God for looking with favor on her, although she has done nothing to earn or deserve God’s attention. The gift of Jesus is a pure gift — all she has to do is accept it in faith, and trust God to continue to work for good in her life.

“His mercy is for those who fear him, from generation to generation,” she sings, going on to predict how God will turn the world upside down — scattering the proud, bringing down the powerful, lifting up the lowly, and feeding the hungry (vv. 50-53). She knows that God is not trapped by traditional ideas or institutions, and that God will show favor to those who respect him — not to those who have the most earthly power or possessions.

That’s an image-breaker, for sure. Back in the first century, it was assumed that material wealth was a sign of God’s favor, while poverty signaled divine displeasure (Proverbs 14:11, 15:6). And, in truth, we do the same today. I know I do, when I pass judgment on those who ask me for a handout. But Mary questions this, saying that God’s mercy is “for those who fear him” — not for those who have the biggest bank accounts.