January 4, 2026

The Second Sunday of Christmas

John 1:1-18

Epiphany, Winnipeg

It does sound rather big and lofty, doesn’t it? “In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God, and the word was God.” It’s not as easy a way to begin a gospel as it would be just to tell a story about Jesus being born. But John starts out with this long piece about the “word.”

In a way, though, it’s kind of simple. When the word “word” is used here, it doesn’t mean the Bible, or words printed on a page or a screen. When we read the word “word” here, we could probably just say that that means “Jesus.” “In the beginning was Jesus, and Jesus was with God, and Jesus was God.” And then “All things came into being through Jesus, and there is nothing that was made without Jesus.” And then, Jesus became flesh and lived among us.”

Let’s just say it like this:

In the beginning was the word. Right from the start, there was Jesus. It’s like God spoke, and when God speaks Jesus happens, and when God speaks everything comes into being. It’s not history or science, it’s poetry and talking about a mystery: a great mystery that Jesus, whose birth we celebrate during this season, has been around right from the beginning and even before the beginning began. Jesus has always been a part of it all right from the beginning.

About five hundred years ago, someone wrote a short piece called the Christmas Proclamation. It’s sometimes read just before midnight mass on Christmas Eve. It goes like this:

“Today, the twenty-fifth day of December,

unknown ages from the time when God created the heavens and the earth and then formed human beings in God’s own image.

Several thousand years after the flood, when God made the rainbow shine forth as a sign of the covenant.

Twenty-one centuries from the time of Abraham and Sarah;

thirteen centuries after Moses led the people of Israel out of Egypt.

Eleven hundred years from the time of Ruth and the Judges;

one thousand years from the anointing of David as king;

in the sixty-fifth week according to the prophecy of Daniel.

In the one hundred and ninety-fourth Olympiad;

the seven hundred and fifty-second year from the foundation of the city of Rome.

The forty-second year of the reign of Octavian Augustus; the whole world being at peace,

Jesus Christ, eternal God and Son of the eternal Father, desiring to make the world holy by his most merciful coming, being conceived by the Holy Spirit, and nine months having passed since his conception, was born in Bethlehem of Judea of the Virgin Mary.

Today is the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ according to the flesh.”

Did you notice how that little proclamation goes all the way back to the beginning? And it comes right up to right here, today?

Next time you encounter something really old, whether that’s a European Cathedral or a teepee ring in a field or the earth at the Forks, or next time you read a book or article about something that happened a long time ago in a far far away place, let this thought roll around in your head: Every time, every era, every millennium, every day that has been or that yet will be, is all wrapped up in the love of God, in the life of Jesus, in the breath of the Spirit. Or if you imagine something unimaginably far into the future, like life on Mars or how humans might live in seven thousand years or when the Jets or the Leafs win the Stanley Cup…or if you consider the world around us, everything happening right now, remember that word about Jesus, the word, being with it all right from the beginning and all the way to the end.

And don’t try to explain it. Just remember: whatever was or is or will be, Jesus, the word, is all caught in what makes it tick. There is no time that is not held in the love of God. The one whose birth we celebrate loves it all and cares for it all so deeply. Whatever was. Whatever is. Whatever will be.

Or let’s just say it like this:

In the beginning was the Word – that’s Jesus – and all things came into being through Jesus, the word, and without Jesus not one thing came into being. It’s not history or science, it’s poetry, it’s pondering a great mystery. And the great mystery is that Jesus, whose birth we celebrate in this season, is all caught up in the life of everything that is, and is there in the beginning wherever life begins.

We were out on a walk with some friends earlier this week, and as we strolled along a forest path we saw trees, dormant wintery trees all around, and snow that will one day melt and become part of the water that feeds life all over the place. And as we peered off into the forest we soon saw deer curled up in the snow, resting on a quiet December morning. Some of them didn’t move, one or two lifted up their heads and watched us when we stopped, then watched us move away, and then they settled their heads back down as they rested before another day began.

Those trees, those deer, that snow and that sky, all of us who walked there…not one of us came into being without Jesus. That’s how close we are to the one whose birth we celebrate this season.

In a few minutes we’ll pray together. We’ll pray for waters, and we’ll pray for the earth. We’ll pray for nations with all their wonders and their horrors, we’ll pray for people who are alone or struggling or ill. We’ll pray for people we don’t know and will never meet, and we’ll pray for people who are as close to us as our own heart.

We’ll pray for all of these things, all of these people and places, not one of whom or one of which came into being without Jesus.

Now let’s not try to explain it. Just remember: whatever is close to home or far away, whoever we know or don’t know, whoever we love or whoever we find it so hard to love….whatever animals snuggle up to stay warm, whatever trees lose their leaves, the moon as it rose over the eastern horizon last night, everything that has life right now…. Jesus, the word, is all caught in what makes it tick. There is nothing that is not held in the love of God right now. The one whose birth we celebrate loves it all and cares for it all so deeply.

That’s how close Jesus is to it all.

Or let’s just say it like this:

In the beginning was the word – that’s Jesus - and the word was with God, and the word was God, and everything came into being through that word, and this one, this word, became flesh. Became a human. The word, who was with God and was God, became a real baby just like any real baby would be, then a toddler and then a teenager like toddlers and teenagers can be, and so on and so on.

It’s not science, or philosophy, it’s just that great mystery that the God who gave life to every time and place and all that is, came and took flesh and became one of us; came to us as the God we can see.

We don’t need to explain it or prove it or make a chart or a diagram that will make it all so clear. It’s just this beautiful mystery that God became flesh, a human with a shoe size and a certain colour of skin and eyes. God became a human, tall and slender or maybe shorter and thicker, who knows? God became a human with their very own fingerprints. God became a human who lived under the power of the Roman Empire and who suffered and died under the power of that empire. God became a human who took the time to have a conversation with a woman at a well in the noonday sun, and who met with a religious leader who was afraid to be seen with Jesus in public. God became a human who wouldn’t just let powerful people get away with speaking nonsense. God became a human who cried when his friend died, just like you or I did when we lost someone we loved.

I guess I’m coming awfully close to doing what I suggested we not do: explain it all.

Maybe it’s just like this:

The First Noel that Came upon a Midnight clear made it plain to a handful of shepherds that God became a child and spoke peace to the earth. The earth where you and I live. Because all of this world matters.

A child who is born Away in a Manger knows just what it’s like to be you.

The God who made it all comes here to live with us, in the middle of it all. Shares a meal with us. Shares our lives with us. Shares newly born life with us.