Isaiah 1:2-3
“Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth! For the Lord has spoken: ‘I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against Me; the ox knows its owner and the donkey its master’s crib; but Israel does not know, my people do not consider.’”
In the name of Jesus. Amen.
Christ is born! Let us glorify Him!
For a long time now, in religious art related to the Christmas story, and in the customary make-up of the figurines in a typical Christmas creche, it has been standard to portray an ox and a donkey as being present in the stable where Jesus was born.
The Nativity accounts in the New Testament Gospels do not say what animals, if any, were in the stable. Where did this now-universal tradition originate? It originated in the verses from Isaiah that were just read.
The early church understood this passage to be teaching that an ox and a donkey were not only present when Jesus was born, but that they, in some sense, were able to recognize that baby – laying in the manger – as their almighty Creator; as the ruler of the natural order of the earth, of which they were a part; and as the divine overseer and sustainer of the whole universe.
Remember the Lord’s declaration in Psalm 50: “For every beast of the forest is Mine, and the cattle on a thousand hills.” In the mean stable in Bethlehem on that holy night, the ox knew its owner, and the donkey its master’s crib.
The story of Christmas is not the story of a baby boy who, in time, became the Son of God – in some sentimental or poetic sense. It is instead the story of the Son of God who, at the appointed time, became a baby boy: to grow up and live as a man; and finally to die as a man – a sinless man – as the Redeemer of all other men.
For the salvation of a humanity plagued by death and covered with shame, the eternal and glorious God shrouded himself in mortality and humility.
God, in Christ, became like us – sin alone excepted – in order to solve humanity’s most fundamental problem from inside humanity, and to bring us back to where we belong, in a restored fellowship with our Creator.
But when God the Son became a human baby – already within the womb of Mary, his mother – he did not stop being God. God, in the nature and character of his existence as God, cannot ever become something other than what he has always been.
He says through the Prophet Malachi: “I am the Lord. I do not change.”
And so, when the Second Person of the Holy Trinity took to himself a human nature, became a man, and lived on earth as a man, this did not in any way alter or diminish his divinity.
Even when taking the form of a frail human baby, with all the appearances of weakness that came with being a baby, God’s eternal Son remained who he had always been – hidden beneath that frailty and that weakness.
And he continued doing what he had always done. The Epistle to the Colossians teaches, with respect to Christ, that
“By him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities. All things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together.”
The baby Jesus, as he slept and nursed, still ruled, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, over all things. As he looked up quizzically at the ox and the donkey who were looking down in awe at him, the baby Jesus – with his deeply hidden yet real divine power – was holding all things together.
He was holding that ox and that donkey together, and was keeping their world going. And somehow, in some way, the ox and the donkey knew that he was doing this. They knew who he was.
They knew what they owed him, and how dependent on him they were. The ox knew its owner, and the donkey its master’s crib.
But the Lord’s words, as spoken through Isaiah, also reflect God’s grief over his own people not knowing him, and not recognizing him.
This evening’s text anticipates the sad fact that, when God’s Son would come into the world to dwell among the people of Israel for a lifetime, most of them would not acknowledge him, or accept him.
“I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against Me. … Israel does not know, my people do not consider.”
This was the sad story of Jesus’ life among his people. St. John’s Gospel reminds us that
“He was in the world, and the world was made through Him, and the world did not know Him. He came to His own, and His own did not receive Him.”
Their eyes were blind to the identity of the baby, and the man, who grew up before them, and walked among them. They refused to see what the ox and the donkey could see.
But before we get too judgmental of the Jewish people of the first century, we need to ask ourselves this night: Do we know our owner, and our master’s crib?
As you and I hear the story, and see with our mind’s eye the image of this newborn baby lying in the manger, do we recognize him for who he really is? Do we worship him for who he really is?
Or is Jesus for us merely a sentimental figure, not to be taken too seriously? Is the Christmas Gospel merely a poetic flourish that we listen to once a year – jumbled together with our many other holiday customs – and then forget until next Christmas?
We don’t know how the ox and donkey knew what they knew, or exactly how much they did know. But we do know how Mary, Joseph, and the shepherds knew who Jesus was, and what his presence among men meant and would mean.
They knew, because God had sent an angelic messenger to tell them. When the conception of Jesus was announced to Mary, the angel Gabriel told her:
“The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Highest will overshadow you; therefore, also, that Holy One who is to be born will be called the Son of God.”
An angel – perhaps the same one – soon thereafter told Joseph:
“Do not be afraid to take to you Mary your wife, for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit. And she will bring forth a Son, and you shall call His name Jesus, for He will save His people from their sins.”
And when an angel – perhaps the same one yet again – appeared to the shepherds on the outskirts of Bethlehem, to invite them to go and worship the newborn king, he told them:
“There is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.”
And the way in which Mary, Joseph, and the shepherds were able to know who Jesus was and is, is – in essence – the same way in which you can know.
Tonight, I ask you to listen to these angelic words, to believe these angelic words, and – in the faith that these words instill in you – to worship the Lord who made you, and to whom you belong.
Tonight, I implore you to let these powerful, supernatural words transform your heart, enlighten your mind, and open your eyes – so that you, too, can know your owner, and your master’s crib. St. Paul writes to the Corinthians, and to you:
“You are not your own, for you were bought with a price.”
As you do humbly acknowledge Christ as your owner and master, one necessary byproduct of that acknowledgment will be that you will also acknowledge your proud failure to submit to your owner, and your rebellious failure to obey your master, in how you have lived your life.
Acknowledge your sin this night, and your need for the Savior from sin who has been sent to you.
And finally, tonight, I invite you to receive the greatest of blessings from this baby in the manger. This is a blessing that the ox and donkey did not receive, but that all mankind is invited to receive from its divine Savior in human flesh.
Receive the forgiveness of all your sins before God, which Jesus earned and accomplished for you and for all people by his death and resurrection.
About 30 years after the events that we are recalling tonight, Jesus – now grown to full manhood – spoke these words to a certain man, as recorded by St. Mark: “Son, your sins are forgiven you.”
Some scribes who saw and heard this, did not like it. They said:
“Why does this Man speak blasphemies like this? Who can forgive sins but God alone?”
Now, they were correct in saying that only God can forgive the sins that have been committed against God and his law. But they were not correct in rebuking Jesus on this basis, because – as Jesus himself said in response – “the Son of Man has power on earth to forgive sins.”
And this is why it is important for you to know that the baby of Bethlehem is more than a baby. When this baby grew up and died for your sins, it was God in human flesh who died for your sins.
When this baby, and who he grew up to be, forgives your sins today, it is God who is forgiving your sins today. And when God forgives your sins, your sins are forgiven. As far as the east is from the west, so far does God remove your sins from you.
As God was hidden yet truly present in the baby in the manger, so too is God truly present today, when the risen Savior absolves you through the voice of his ministers.
As your divine owner and master could be seen with the eyes of faith in the stable in Bethlehem, so too can your divine owner and master – in faith – be seen and heard in the living and healing words of Christ that are spoken to you in the gospel:
Son, your sins are forgiven you. Daughter, your sins are forgiven you.
On this holy night of Jesus’ birth, do not be like unbelieving Israel:
“I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against Me. … Israel does not know, my people do not consider.”
Instead, on this holy night of Jesus’ birth, be like the ox and the donkey:
“the ox knows its owner and the donkey its master’s crib.” Amen.
Christ is born! Let us glorify Him!
Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit; as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever. Amen.