In the late 1990s and early 2000s there was a TV show on The Learning Channel called “A Baby Story.” This 30 minute documentary-style show (I use that term loosely) would feature a family preparing to welcome a new baby. Each episode included interviews with parents, grandparents, siblings, and friends. Usually there was a visit to the doctor for a pre-natal visit. And then there was some little extra feature to highlight the preparations or celebrations that might be taking place, before the final (significantly edited) footage of the birth.
When watching this show religiously (which I did), one of my favorite features was when the soon-to-be parent would walk the audience through the packing of their hospital bag. It feels a little silly now, but I loved watching what people chose for comfort, what they threw in to keep themselves occupied just in case they had time, what they wanted to listen to while laboring, what they carried along for religious devotion, or what clothes they wanted the baby to wear when they were coming home.
You could learn so much about what was important to the person packing the suitcase – their likes and dislikes, of course, but if you paid attention, also their hopes and fears, their worries and excitements, their longings and their joys.
That hospital bag was the sign of ultimate preparation, ultimate readiness. Everything that would be needed to birth and care for a newborn was tucked into a small roll-aboard suitcase and put right next to the door for when the time came for them to deliver their child.
I started thinking about this TV show, and particularly the hospital bag scenes, during Bible study a few weeks ago when we were studying the nativity story in Luke’s gospel. One of our participants pointed out the change in language in our contemporary translations where it says that Jesus was wrapped in bands of cloth.
Anyone who grew up with the Revised Standard Version or the King James Version or even Charlie Brown’s Christmas might stumble when we hear that – bands of cloth. It’s not particularly poetic when you’re used to … what…?
Yes, swaddling clothes or cloths.
Swaddling clothes, cloths, or blankets are the kind of thing expectant parents might put in a hospital bag. Meticulously picked out to match the color of the nursery walls, maybe some family hand-me-downs so baby is wrapped in the same blanket the siblings were when they came home, pre-washed with fragrance-free laundry soap, carefully folded or rolled up and tucked inside.
Swaddling clothes brings to mind calm preparations and careful plans – – everything the birth of Jesus did not have. The language change in our Bibles might mess with our rhythm of reading or listening, but it probably paints a more accurate picture. On so many levels, Jesus’ birth was anything but calmly prepared for or carefully planned. From the angelic disruptions of Mary and Joseph’s betrothal and engagement to the mid-pregnancy visit with Elizabeth, from the burden of a trip to Bethlehem in the last trimester to the less than luxurious birthing suite and strangers showing up after visiting hours – no one was prepared for what God was up to.
The world Jesus was born into and the way he was born into it – both the immediate world of his parents and the stable and the census, and the larger world of the occupying Roman empire represented by the governor, the nervous puppet king ruling from Jerusalem – it was kind of a mess and it’s hard, if not impossible, for people to plan for that kind of a mess.
There’s no way there were neatly packed, all-cotton swaddling blankets on hand when the baby came. But bands of cloth – for wiping down animals or cleaning up hands after feeding the animals? I imagine there were plenty. The scene was probably not as picturesque as the family creche or the newborn photoshoot lead us to believe, but I actually think it’s better that way.
Today that mess can feel familiar. The current residents of the very geography we are imagining in our mind’s eye tonight are living in the uncertainty, fear, and devastation of war. The accounts of violence and terror, oppression and injustice that fill the evening news are horrifying.
As people with disruptions in our lives – scary new diagnoses from the doctor, the unexpected death of loved ones, strained relationships, unfulfilled dreams, financial challenges- the kind that thwart even the best laid plans and meticulous preparations sending us into a tailspin of confusion and doubt – the way Jesus came into the world, the way God chose to be revealed and take on flesh and define what salvation will look like, is tremendous good news.
The one who is born to save the world, didn’t come when everything was going just right. He didn’t arrive when everyone was getting along, when things were going according to plans, when the world and everyone in it was experiencing healing, wholeness, and peace. He came when things were too chaotic to grab the hospital bag on the way out the door, when there wasn’t room or time to get everything set up just right. He came when things were a mess, and into the mess he brought grace, and peace, and hope for a new creation.
In the middle of every mess that tugs at our hearts and our faith, we have the promise of a baby born in the middle of it all. But not just any baby; the baby who carries God’s will, God’s righteousness, God’s grace and mercy into the world. In the middle of our messes we have the words of angels who reassure us again and again, “Do not be afraid. This is good news.” We have the promise that God shows up when nothing is going right, and God will face every obstacle with us.
These are good tidings of great joy, and they are for all people. This day and forevermore. Amen.
For Some Reason 