When the kings march down in tinsel crowns we see the figures of ancient gift givers and young actors' faces superimposed. Joseph and Mary are known to us, as well. We know them from the gospel according to Luke, but also from the times we may have seen them in the parish hall or careening around the corner in the Academy hallways.

The babe in the manger in the Saint James Center is someone's doll,
special in its own right, but elevated for this night to the role of Savior of the world.

At our 10 PM Christmas Eve liturgy, we have antique Nativity figures arranged artfully on the retable behind the altar. They are gorgeous to look at and valuable in the eyes of the world. These priceless antique paper-mache figures, like the pageant players, are not full-sized, yet they all point to something far larger than we can contain.

It is important to see all these things as signs because, at one level, we are playing "let's pretend" at each of these liturgies. If we stop at the signs that point beyond themselves and move no further we will be like people who stand at the beginning of a long journey and mistakenly believe that they have already arrived at the journey's end.

The manger is not the end of the journey. The manger is not even the beginning. Christmas Eve is one moment, one small step, in a larger history of hope and expectation. Christmas Eve holds just one moment in Christ's life, a life poured out for us.

Christmas Eve can only offer us a portion of the bread we will need for our journey. It is good that we are here. But tonight is a way station, by a manger, on a much longer road. We are not meant to live in the stable, or to stay forever in the inn. We are travelers on the Way.

Nor is our Christmas Eucharist the end of the journey, or even the beginning. It may be the latest whisper in our heart, a gift from God drawing us nearer, but this Eucharist is also a sign that points beyond itself.

The pageant at 5 pm and the Gospel at 11 lead us to the manger and bid us look more carefully. Let us look beyond the baby, and see the man that lies in the manger. Let us look beyond "let's pretend" and peer into the depths of God's work. The pure light of the star falling across kneeling kings casts a shadow at the manger that extends through time to the dark night of the cross. The gifts of gold, frankincense and myrhh tell of wealth and power, prayer, and preparation for life's end. These gifts cast shadows that fall across the child who will become a man - the man who is the light of the world, and the savior of our souls.

These curious gifts foreshadow the temptations in the wilderness that the man Jesus will confront. Just as the kings from the East followed the light of the star to arrive at the foot of the divine housed in a manger, so Jesus will follow the light of God's word through the valley of temptation and the wilderness of sin. The child will become the man whom we know is both human and divine.

It is Christmas Eve. We cannot look only at tinsel crowns and tiny antique figures. We must also see the cross, even at Christmas, to understand the enormous gift we have be given in the manger. Both light and shadows are necessary to adequately illuminate the God who chose to dwell among us.

Jesus was born in cold squalor to buy life for us through his willingness to live and die as one of us. He began as a holy infant, but the story did not end there. Our Christmas temptation is to contain Jesus in pleasant carols and cute cards. Our Christmas temptation is to keep the babe in the manger from growing up. Perhaps we try to contain the child because we know that God seeks through the babe in the manger to enter our whole life, transforming us, and thereby changing the world.

Let us enjoy the preciousness of children in pageants. But let us also remember all those children who live in places as cold and dark as the stable. Jesus was born for all of these. We are called, in less than an hour, to leave the manger and meet the world. Take Jesus, the man in the manger, with you.

Let us gaze with wonder upon the beauty of the still figures behind our altar. But let us also gaze with the compassion of Christ on those who are freezing on the streets of our cities. The babe in the manger became the man Jesus who gave his very life to save us all. Can we be satisfied with an observation of the coming of Christ that only includes gifts given to one another in the comfort of our own homes? Go into the streets on Christmas and take Jesus, the man in the manger, with you.

The reading from Luke's Gospel for this day ends with this description:
"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. But 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, as it had been told them."

We Mary, we too have much to ponder. Like the shepherds, we too have much to tell.
Let us go forth into the world, and may the man in the manger go with us, all our days.
AMEN.