All of Earth Rejoices at the Birth of Jesus – Dennis OrmsethĀ reflects on the Christmas Eve and Christmas Day readings.
Care for Creation Commentary on the Common LectionaryĀ
(originally written by Dennis Ormseth in 2011)
Readings for Christmas Eve (all years)
Psalm 96
Isaiah 9:2-7
Titus 2:11-14
Luke 2:1-14 (15-20)
Readings for Christmas Day (all years)
Psalm 97 or 98
Isaiah 62:6-12 or 52:7-10
Titus 3:4-7 or Hebrews 1:1-14 (5-12)
Luke 2:(1-7) 8-20 or John 1:1-14
Introduction
The birth of Jesus is an occasion for great joy in the church. What we have hoped for and waited for, not just in the season of Advent but also in āall the yearsāĀ of hope and fear, begins to be realized in this event. It comes naturally to us, therefore, to draw on great psalms of praise to give voice to this joyāPsalm 96 for Christmas Eve, Psalm 97 or 98 for Christmas Day, and Psalm 148 on the First Sunday after Christmas. What strikes this reader looking for the āgreen meaningā of Christmas is the expectation these psalms share, namely,Ā Ā thatĀ āall theĀ Earthā will join with Godās people in these songs of praise. In remarkable unison, they give voice toĀ natureāsĀ praise. Using these psalms, therefore, the church embraces the notion that āall the Earthā joins our celebration of the birth of Jesus.
What are we to make of this notion of natureās praise? Is it simply a poetic convention, in terms of which the psalmist imagines rather anthropocentrically that the non-human creation has voice and desire to sing such songs? In his bookĀ God and World in the Old Testament, Terry Fretheim argues that commonly this kind of interpretation closes off important possibilities and denies the texts the full depth of their expressive thickness. The call for non-human creatures to voice their praise, he suggests, functions like metaphors for God that are drawn from nature. While there is obviously an aspect of āis and is notā in saying, for example, that āGod is [like] a rockā or God is [like] a mother eagle,ā in some measure these creatures do āreflect in their very existence, in their being what they are, the reality which is God.ā The use of such natural metaphors āopens up the entire created order as a resource for depth and variety in our God language.ā
Similarly, calling on natural entities to voice their praise draws āattention to the range of Godās creative work and hence Godās praise-worthiness.ā Listing the creatures together, which occurs frequently, suggests the importance of both the individuality and the complementary nature of their praise. Each entityās praise is distinctive according to its intrinsic capacity and fitness, with varying degrees of complexity, and yet each entity is also part of the one world of God, contributing its praise to that of the whole. The model of the symphony orchestra comes to mind, Fretheim suggests, and environmental considerations are immediately present as well. For if one member of the orchestra is incapacitated or missing altogether, the scope, complexity and intensity of the praise will be less than what it might otherwise be. Indeed, āenvironmental sensitivity in every age is for the sake of the praise of God and the witness it entails,ā and it has āimplications for Godās own possibilities in the world.ā In fact, the responsiveness of the creatures to the call to praise is itself a factor in the realization of these possibilities. In their interaction with God, the creatures can become āmore of what they are or have the potential of becomingā (Fretheim, pp. 255-9).
Our purpose in the following comments on the readings for the Nativity of Our Lord here, and for the First Sunday of Christmas subsequently, is to show how the use of these psalms in the celebration of the birth of Jesus brings into focus certain āenvironmental sensitivitiesā in the stories of Christmas. What is it in these stories, we ask, that might be seen to give rise toĀ non-humanĀ natureās praise, beyond human praising? Answers to this question, it is significant to note, have been anticipated in our comments on the lections for the Season of Advent, the Third and Fourth Sundays of Advent especially.Ā Ā As we shall see, first the good news forĀ Earth in the message of MaryāsĀ Magnificat, is developed fulsomely in the Lukan birth narrative;Ā and,Ā secondly, the affirmations regarding creation we found in the Annunciation story from the Fourth Sunday of Advent are richly celebrated in the lections for Christmas Day.
Christmas Eve
āO sing to the lord a new song;
sing to the lord, all the earth.
Sing to the Lord, bless his name;
tell of his salvation from day to day.
Declare his glory among the nations,
his marvelous works among all the peoples.ā (96:1-3)
Praise and witness are here united, as āall the earthā joins in a song of praise and declares Godās glory among all the peoples. Indeed, perhaps only the full witness of āall the earthā is adequate to the challenge posed, if āall the peopleā are indeed to hear and join in praise of God. So we listen for the roar of the sea, and all that fills it; we watch for the field to exult, and everything in it, and āthen all the trees of the forest sing for joyā at the Lordās coming (96:11-12). We note the complementary nature of the creatures called on to give praise: habitat and animals, in the sea and in the field, constitute natural harmonies; sea and land unite in aĀ cantus firmus, as it were, with the trees making up the chorus. All Earth makes magnificent music, because the Lord is coming to judge the earthāmeaning that the Lord will restore the good order of creation and teach the peoples how they might live in accordance with that order, indeed teach āthe truth.ā
Why exactly is this cause forĀ natureāsĀ joy? On the Fourth Sunday of Advent, we had occasion to note the reasons for the joy Mary expressed in her song of praise. HerĀ MagnificatĀ celebrates the expectation of theĀ āradical reversal of the fortunes of the unjust powers that dominate human history, so that God’s intention with the creation might at the last be completely fulfilled.āĀ A key linkage between the psalmās praise and the Gospel for Christmas Eve is the way in which the story opens up this expectation. Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan read Lukeās story of Christmas within the military, economic, political, and ideological contexts of Lukeās writing. The Emperor Augustus had brought peace to the lands around the Mediterranean Sea, bringing to a close a generation of civil war between the rival leaders of the Roman Republic. It had seemed as if the EmpireĀ āwas destroying itself and ruining much of the Mediterranean world in the process of its own destruction,āĀ Borg and Crossan comment (The First Christmas, p. 61). With the great sea battle of Actium, however, the wars were over, and a long period of peace ensued. An inscription at Halicarnassus on the Aegean coast lauded Caesar Augustus, proclaiming thatĀ āland and sea are at peace and the cities flourish with good order, concord and prosperity.āĀ Borg and Crossan again comment aptly:Ā āFor Augustus and for Rome it was always about peace, but always about peace through victory, peace through war, peace through violenceāĀ (Ibid., p. 65).
In our comment on the readings for the Third Sunday of Advent, we noted how destructive this āpeaceā was for the Palestinian countryside; whole hillsides were stripped of forests to produce lumber for Roman constructions. The treacherous character of this imperial peace is further suggested by how the Roman legions enforced āpeaceā in Palestine around the time of the birth of Jesus. Upon the death of Herod the Great in 4 BCE, Jewish rebels in several places rose to throw off Roman rule. A rebellion at Sepphoris, capital of Galilee and just a few miles north of Nazareth, was put down with typical violence. Roman legions from Syria captured the city, burnt it, and enslaved its inhabitants. What happened elsewhere no doubt became the fate of people from Sepphoris as well, Borg and Crossan suggest:
“either there was timely flight to hiding places well known to the local peasantry, or its males were murdered, its females raped, and its children enslaved. If they escaped, the little they had would be gone when they returned home, because, as another rebel said, when you had nothing, the Romans took even that. ‘They make a desert and call it peace.’ā
Borg and Crossan speculate that Jesus would have been taken by Mary his mother to the top of the Nazareth ridge and told the story of this destruction, perhaps to help him understand why his father had disappearedĀ (Ibid., pp. 77-78).
Contrast this Roman peace, then, with the vision of peace from Lukeās Christmas story: the night of Jesusā birth, Luke tells us, was filled with light all around. The shepherds on the hills above Bethlehem were engulfed in āthe glory of the Lordā as a host of angels sing praise to God and proclaim āpeace on earth among those whom he favors!ā The shepherds, representative of the marginalized peasant class that experienced Roman oppression and exploitation most acutely, live on the hills with their herd, close to the earth. They come down to honor their newly born prince of peace, and thus do heaven and earth join in praise of Godās salvation. The story, Borg and Crossan suggest, is a subversive parable of how things should beāand how they will be when the kingdom of God displaces the reign of Caesar, when the eschatological peace with justice and righteousness supplants the Roman Empireās āpeace through victoryā (Ibid., pp. 46-53).
The stories, as Borg and Crossan aptly characterize them in their recent book onĀ The First Christmas,Ā are āparabolic overturesā to their gospels. With great economy and literary creativity, they serve as a āsummary, synthesis, metaphor, or symbol of the wholeā of each Gospel narrative. Affirmations concerning the creation found in them, we think, while seemingly of minor significance, are highly suggestive of grand themes of the Gospel stories, which are to be explicated more fully in the full narrative of each Gospel. As an āovertureā to the gospel, Lukeās Christmas story anticipates the full story of his Gospel. Rival kingdoms promise peace: peace through victory or peace through justice and righteousness, darkness or light. Who is the true prince of peace? The one whose armies turn the land into a desert? Or the one whose admirers come from heaven and from the hills to join in united praise? The light shines in the darkness, and beholding the light, both sea and land and all their inhabitants join in a new song in praise of their Creatorāand the singing trees, safe from imperial destruction, do make for a grand chorus!
Christmas Day
āLet the earth rejoice!āĀ (Psalm 97:1). Clouds, thick darkness, fire, and lightning attend the arrival of the ruler whose throne is established on a foundation of righteousness and justice. So āthe earth sees and tremblesā (97:2-4).Ā āMake a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth.ā The sea and all that fills it will roar, joined by the world and all its inhabitants; the floods clap their hands and the hills sing for joy at the presence of the Lord, āfor he is coming to judge the earthā (Psalm 98:4). Again today the church employs natureās praise to celebrate the birth of Jesus. (For a discussion of the interpretation of natureās praise, refer to our introduction on the readings for the Nativity of our Lord, above). And again our question is:Ā What exactly gives rise to natureās joy? What is the judgment that all the Earth awaits?
In the readings for Christmas Eve, we have seen, contrasting visions of peace by violence and peace with justice and righteousness provide the link between the psalmistās song of all the Earth and the Christmas story. Now in the first lesson for Christmas Day, the vision of peace with righteousness is extended so as to include specific reference to the restoration of the land. The land clearly benefits from a covenant of marriage between God and the people of Israel, the image provided by Isaiah in 62:4-5. (The reader may want to include these verses in the reading, to help the congregation understand the connection.) There will be grain to feed the people, and wine to be enjoyed by those who labored to produce itāan agrarian image of local agricultural practice, in which the land is cherished and lovingly cared for, contrasted with the desolated land characteristic of the economy of a foreign empire exploiting the land and denying the farmer its benefits (62:8-9). The passage exhibits a frequently noted consequence of Godās saving judgment, as summarized by Terry Fretheim in hisĀ God and World in the Old Testament: the āwork of God with human beings will also positively affect the estranged relationship between human beings, the animals, and the natural orders more generally. Indeed . . . human salvation will only then be realizedā(p. 196).Ā Inclusion of the land in the benefits of the covenant makes it clear, as Fretheim puts it, that āGodās creation is at stake in Israelās behaviors, not simply their more specific relationship with Godā (p. 165).
Our other scripture readings for Christmas Day extend the scope of the significance of Christmas for creation more broadly. The selection from the Letter to the Hebrews says that the Son whose birth we celebrate is āappointed heir ofĀ all things,ā and is the one āthrough whom the worlds are created, and by whomĀ all thingsĀ are sustained.ā And the prologue of John, the climactic Gospel reading for this high feast of Christmas, anchors this divine embrace of creation in a three-fold, cosmic affirmation: the Word that is from the beginning is the agent through whom all things come into being; he is life itself; and he ābecame flesh and lived among us.ā Being, life, and human selfhood are the three great mysteries of the creation.
So as we anticipatedĀ Ā in singing Maryās Magnificat, on the Fourth Sunday of Advent, we are invited to see in her child the glory of God incarnate, the āglory a of a fatherās only son, full of grace and truth (John 1:14; see our comment on the Fourth Sunday of Advent). With her, we are through her child given new orientation to the creation asĀ finitum capax infiniti, capable ofĀ bearingĀ infinity. The light shining in the darkness is primordial, cosmic light, which the darkness cannot overcome. As Norman Wirzba writes inĀ The Paradise of God, āGod becomes a human being and in so doing, enters the very materiality that constitutes creation. The home of God, rather than being a heaven far removed from our plight, is hereā (pp. 16-17). Niels Henrik Gregerson captures the significance of this embodiment for modern readers in his concept of ādeep incarnation:ā Christ is incarnate in putting on not only human nature but āalso a scorned social being and a human-animal body, at once vibrant and vital and yet vulnerable to disease and decay.ā (Quoted by Christopher Southgate inĀ The Groaning of Creation, p. 167).Ā For a provocative elaboration of Gregersonās notion of ādeep incarnationā as a contrast to Arne Naessās deep ecology, see his āFrom Deep Ecology to Deep Incarnation, and Back Again,ā (available online).Ā So,Ā yes, āall the earthā has the profoundest reason to rejoice at the birth of Jesus: all things rejoice for what this event means, for the non-human creation no less than for the human.Ā Ā In Jesus, God embraces Earth absolutely and irrevocably. Every shadow of cosmic dualism is banished by the light of the Christmas gospel.
Originally written by Dennis Ormseth in 2012.
dennisormseth@gmail.com