Christmas Eve, 2023: "God in the Gutter"

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First United Presbyterian Church

“God in the Gutter”

Rev. Amy Morgan

December 24, 2023

Luke 2:8-14

Now in that same region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “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, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,

 “Glory to God in the highest heaven,

    and on earth peace among those whom God favors!”

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them, and Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, just as it had been told them

I am SO happy to be here tonight. Life events have caused me to miss the last two years’ Christmas Eve services. And everybody knows that pastors basically only work two days a year – Christmas and Easter – so I’ve had some real insecurity about doing my job. 

It’s been a rough few years – not just for me, but also for Ticketmaster. Y’all remember that from the beginning of this year? There was this little hiccup with Taylor Swift concert tickets? 

And it was a tough year for Twitter, too. It basically just got X-ed out. And now every time those poor news reporters have to share a quote from this social media platform, they have to say, “X, formerly known as Twitter.” They’re having flashbacks to when Prince changed his name to an unpronounceable symbol. 

When I asked ChatGPT to sum up the challenges of the last year, it responded, “The year 2023 presented a complex tapestry of challenges, encompassing ongoing public health concerns, geopolitical tensions, economic uncertainties, and the urgent need for collective action to mitigate the impacts of climate change.” But when I asked it about the accomplishments of 2023, it responded, “In 2023, notable accomplishments were achieved in various fields, marked by scientific breakthroughs, technological innovations, global collaboration in addressing health crises, and progress toward sustainable initiatives, reflecting humanity's resilience and determination for positive change.”

We live in both of the worlds described by the AI chatbot. We live in a world of challenge and accomplishment, of uncertainty and resilience, of urgent need and urgent action, of concerning tension and determination for positive change. These seemingly contradictory realities co-exist. 

The playwright Oscar Wilde understood what it was like to live in two different worlds at the same time. He believed passionately in art for art’s sake, yet he made his living from the popularity of his plays. He was married with children, and had a secret affair with the son of a wealthy lord. He was celebrated by upper-class patrons until his affair was made public, and after serving 2 years in prison, he died a short time later dejected and despised, in exile in Paris. 

In one of Wilde’s plays, a character sums up what it feels like to live this paradox of despair and hope, saying, “We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”

The shepherds of first-century Judea understood the first half of that quote. They lived outdoors, among their flocks, for months at a stretch. They weathered the rain and cold, slept in the mud or in caves. They fought off predators and thieves and sometimes had to physically carry wayward animals back to the fold. There were not opportunities for social advancement, education, or routine bathing. 

But there were at least some shepherds who were also looking at the stars. The Gospel of Luke tells us, “There were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night.” And their eyes were lifted to the stars by an angelic host bearing good news of great joy. They may have felt at times like they were in the gutter, but some of them were looking at the stars. And in the stars, they witnessed the first public pronouncement of the birth of a savior. 

Many of us may feel like we are in the gutter. Personal gutters of loneliness or self-loathing, of feeling ignored or judged, of broken hearts and anxious minds. Or we might be experiencing the gutters we are all in as a global human family. Gutters of violence and political strife, inequality and injustice, fear and anger. We are all in the gutter, in some sense or another. 

But some of us are looking at the stars. Not because we’re more optimistic people or because we’re wiser than everyone else. We are looking at the stars because our eyes are lifted to the heavens by good news of great joy. It is the same great joy that was announced to shepherds thousands of years ago. A savior has been born. 

That savior was not born into a world of peace and prosperity and security. That savior was born into the same gutter all of us find ourselves in. That savior is God in the gutter, Emanuel, God-with-us. 

And Jesus was not born into that gutter so that he could pull us out and we could continue plodding along the road of life, staring at our feet. He was born into the gutter so that he could keep turning our eyes to the stars, so we could shoot for the moon, so we could hear angelic choirs singing good news of great joy, hope for a new heaven and new earth, a world without gutters, a world full of stars. 

We can’t ignore the fact that we’re in the gutter. It’s no use pretending otherwise. It isn’t a demonstration of our faith or goodness to deny our gutter-dwelling human condition.  Frederick Buechner wrote that “if our faith is not mainly just window dressing or a rabbit's foot or fire insurance, it is because it grows out of precisely this kind of rich human compost. The God of biblical faith is the God who meets us at those moments in which for better or worse we are being most human, most ourselves, and if we lose touch with those moments, if we don't stop from time to time to notice what is happening to us and around us and inside us, we run the tragic risk of losing touch with God too.” In the gutter, we are “rich human compost” out of which God can grow faith. If we don’t stop and remember that we are in the gutter, we run the risk of missing out on the stars. 

So tonight, and every night, may we remember that God came to the gutter, to all of us. But Jesus was born so that we might look at the stars and remember that the “rich human compost” is made up of the same hydrogen, oxygen, carbon, and nitogen as those stars. We are compost, and we are stardust, and the God who created us all, in all our humanity and glory, is the God who is with us, in the glory and humanity of Jesus. 

As we remember this tonight, may we become more compassionate, with ourselves and others. May this night allow us to dream bigger dreams. May this night open our hearts to wonder and awe, so that we might not just look at the stars, but reach for them, too. 

Amen.