Let’s begin with a story: “There was once a farmer who didn't believe in Jesus. One snowy Christmas Eve, his wife asked him to come with her to worship, but he refused. ‘That story is nonsense!’ he scoffed. ‘Why would God come to Earth as a lowly human? That's ridiculous!’ So his wife went to church, and he stayed at home.
“Later that night, the man heard a loud thump on the window. When he looked out the window, he saw a flock of wild geese in the field near his house. One of them had flown into his window. The flock had been flying south for the winter when they got caught in the snowstorm. They were stranded on his farm, with no food or shelter.
“The man felt sorry for the geese and wanted to help them. So, he went over to the barn, opened the doors wide, and waited, hoping they would go inside. But the geese didn’t understand; they just continued to fly around aimlessly in the blizzard. The man tried to get their attention, but that just scared them, and they flew further away. He went into the house and returned with some bread, broke it up, and made a breadcrumb trail leading to the barn. They still didn't catch on. He got behind them and tried to shoo them toward the barn, but they only got more scared and scattered in every direction – except towards the barn. Nothing he did seemed to help.
“‘Why don't they follow me?!’ He cried. ‘Can't they see this is the only place where they can survive the storm?’ After a moment’s reflection, he realized that as a human, he must be frightening to them. ‘If only I were a goose, then I could save them,’ he thought. Then he remembered what he’d said to his wife earlier. ‘Why would God want to be like us? That's ridiculous!’ Suddenly it all made sense. Humanity was like these geese – lost and perishing. But we weren’t able to understand that without someone like us to show us the way. God took on flesh and became human so Jesus could save us. That’s the meaning of Christmas.”[1]
This story has been making the rounds online for many years now (albeit, usually closer to December). I like it because it preserves some of the mystery of the incarnation. It doesn’t try to answer ALL of our questions: the farmer doesn’t get sidetracked trying to figure out HOW he would become a goose, or once that was accomplished, HOW he would convince the other geese to go into the barn – or even what would happen if they STILL weren’t convinced. His revelation is specifically about the motivation behind his desire to help them. This story reminds us that the HOW of Christmas is far less important than the WHY.
All too often, our discussions about the meaning of this holiday center around theological logistics – HOW could divinity be contained within an infant, HOW could a person be fully God and fully human, HOW could these events lead to salvation. While these questions certainly have their place, they’re not what matters most. Far from it. The “hows” may be fascinating and complex, but ultimately, Christmas matters because of the answer to the farmer’s initial question: WHY would God come to earth as a lowly human? In order to save us, out of love.
Think about what this means. Each of us is all too familiar with all the negative parts of being human: hunger, exhaustion, pain, illness, not to mention more abstract things like prejudice, violence, and war…it’s no wonder the farmer was skeptical that anyone would willingly choose this. Being human must be especially miserable in comparison to a purely spiritual existence. For God, taking on human form with all of its weaknesses and vulnerabilities must have been something like putting on a really uncomfortable and ill-fitting pair of shoes. Yet God voluntarily stepped into these shoes at Christmas for our sake. And God chose to continue wearing these shoes, blisters and all, until our salvation was accomplished. Out of love.
Now, I could easily end the sermon here. This is, after all, good news: God’s gift of Godself through Christ is given freely and unconditionally. The farmer didn’t try to help the geese expecting to get anything in return. In other words, God’s choosing to put on human “shoes” at Christmas is neither a reward nor does it obligate us to do anything in return. And yet, a gift of such magnitude certainly deserves a response, especially when it’s given out of love. So while it’s not an obligation, it’s natural for us to want to express our gratitude. Out of love.
Let’s take a moment to imagine what a response to the farmer’s help might look like for the geese in this story. They could stick around after the storm, making the farm their new home. I’m sure their loyalty would touch the farmer’s heart. They might lay eggs for him, making a physical offering of what they could produce. But neither of these responses acknowledges the farmer’s deepest desire, the one that motivated his actions in the first place. So I’d argue that the best way for the geese to express their gratitude to the farmer would probably be to “pay it forward” – to make sure that OTHER geese could find safety, too. Out of love.
At Christmas, God put on the “shoes” of humanity to save us, so the best way for us to show our gratitude is by acting in the same spirit to help one another. We obviously can’t put on each other’s “shoes” the same way God was able to put on ours – by literally sharing their experience – but we’ve been given another gift that can help us here: the gift of divine imagination. Or, in less theological terms, empathy.
In December, when viral Christmas posts are being shared, Christmas songs are reminding us of our “fellow man”, and charitable opportunities are everywhere, this isn’t quite so difficult. We almost enjoy trying on other people’s shoes, remembering how fortunate we are. But in the middle of the summer, when all of those things are months away and an especially contentious election season is heating up, our own well-worn shoes are all we seem to care about. Friends, God didn’t put on those ill-fitting shoes just for us to respond in kind one month of the year. God didn’t give us the gift of divine imagination just for us to forget about one another for eleven months at a time.
No, if we claim to be people of faith, if we claim to be grateful for God’s willingness to walk in our “shoes” and lead us to safety, then we ought to do the same for our human siblings. We ought to listen when they tell us about their needs, their fears, their dreams for the future, and imagine what it would feel like to be in their shoes. We should believe what they tell us, instead of dismissing them out of hand based on our own experiences.
And then, just as Christ taught us, out of gratitude for our incarnational salvation, we should do what we can to help them. We should find ways to meet those needs, to address those fears, to make those dreams reality. Out of love. We should live our whole lives this way, not just in December, not just with people we know personally, not just when we’re feeling festive, but in the middle of July, on the internet, and yes, even at the ballot box. God didn’t just put on human shoes for one month or while Jesus was teaching in the temple. God wore those shoes all the way through political unrest, personal betrayal, and one of the most violent deaths imaginable. Certainly, it’s not too much to ask for us to keep our empathy shoes on for more than four weeks at a time.
So as we go back into the “real world” and the anxieties and choices that await us there, let’s not forget about what the farmer learned – that Christmas isn’t about self-preservation, but about love of those impossibly different from you. The sort of love that God has been gracious enough to pour out upon us mere mortals…and the love that we’re able to share with each other in gratitude all year round. Amen.
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[1] Modified from https://www.sermonsplus.co.uk/Christmas%20geese%20story.html?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTAAAR14FKsJFkeZsI6xOdwYcdDELCgsAeqRWb0RLj2gxobinU-S-d29UWoJHxY_aem_GCNTxWQFtepnW4XCztYIbQ
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