In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

On an evening like this, when we are serving as we are serving with all of these services in a row, it can feel a little bit long. I know there were times earlier in my days when I thought that even Vespers-and-Matins was a bit long because I didn’t have yet the Orthodox equivalent of sea-legs quite yet. However, if there was anything that resolved any questions about legs, it was going to Mount Athos, and standing through a regular night’s service where they are standing about ninety per cent of the time for five and a half or six hours (and this was not a feast-day). I had to give up complaining altogether.

Actually, that experience helped me to pay attention to the fact of why I am here in the first place. Why am I here? I am here because I love our Lord, God, and Saviour, Jesus Christ, and because I was created to worship Him. It just so happens that I like to do it, even though my legs, and other parts occasionally complain. I do like to worship Him, and it is a great joy to be here, worshipping Him. How many times in the course of my pastorate have I heard old people in their eighties talking about when they were babies, and their parents brought them to services like these. Wrapped up, they took a little nap, and slept somewhere, but they somehow absorbed the whole experience of the worship of the Lord. They caught the love of Jesus Christ from their parents. Their parents were there not just because they had to be, but because they liked to be. They wanted to be. So, these children caught the love of Christ which lasted them through the rest of their whole lives into their eighties. Still in their eighties they were saying how they liked to go to church. They liked to worship the Lord. They liked to sing praises to Him. I think that there are some people here, too, even less than eighty years old, who have had some of that experience in their lives, too. Even though I haven’t talked to you specifically about it, I have known some of you long enough, and your lives long enough, to guess that this must be somehow the case.

I still remember the first Christmas I had in this parish. Every time I come home, I remember it. The first Christmas in this parish (it was in the garage) when I was a green seminarian, and had just begun to learn what tones were, Father Jaroslav gave me the Festal Menaion, and said: Here – you’re leading the singing. Baptism by fire. I still remember that. I thought I was going to die. However, God is merciful, and He helps us through all these things. I learned a lot by it. That was the first time it was underlined to me: Why am I doing this? This is so hard, and so difficult that I can hardly remember all these things. I am perpetually embarrassed because I keep making mistakes. Why am I doing this? There is only one reason. It is because of the Lord, and Saviour, Jesus Christ, who is the hope of my life, and your life. That’s why we are here – because of Him, because we love Him, because it’s fun to serve Him. Even if the back aches sometimes, it’s still fun to be here together to serve Him, and to glorify Him. This is why He was born: to give us this joy, the joy that the shepherds felt when the angels appeared to them, the joy that the wise men, travelling from the east, felt when they came to the house to worship Him. (This was not exactly at the same time, because they came a year later, before Jesus left Bethlehem.) We feel their joy, as well.

I am not certain that it is at all possible for us to approach the joy of the Mother of God, who gave birth to this Child. We talk about it, and we sing about it, but I’m not certain that in this life it is possible for very many of us to approach this joy: the depth, the immensity of this joy. However, we can just get a taste of it, anyway. This joy is going to be mixed with grief, just as our whole life is as Orthodox Christians, as human beings. Our whole life is joy mixed with grief. Why do I say that?

The Nativity of Christ, and the Baptism of Christ, together, are called the “Winter Pascha”. All of this “Winter Pascha” happened in order to enable the Pascha, the ultimate Queen of Feasts, in the spring, to happen: the sacrifice of our Saviour, Jesus Christ – His suffering, His death. It happened so that He could rise victoriously over death, and over sin for us, and for our salvation, and for us to have eternal life. All of this joy is for that sorrow, which in itself produces greater joy than anything else we know: Pascha joy. As much joy as we have at Christmas-time, it is still mild compared to the joy of Pascha. That joy is still only the vaguest shadow of the joy of the Mother of God at the Nativity of her Son, at the Resurrection of her Son, and in the Kingdom of Heaven, now, where she intercedes for us before Him, where she protects us with her veil, as she protected her Son during His life. The Mother of God is an invisible woman in many ways. There is no lack of strength in this Birth-giver of God.

The Lord is born today. Jesus Christ, today, is born for us. He puts flesh on His love. He lives this love for us. He dies this love for us. He rises victorious in this love for us. His love is a mystery beyond our comprehension. However, it also is a love which we can taste, and which we can actualise a little bit, ourselves. We can share this love with each other, as we are doing. We can share this joy with each other, as we are doing. When we say: “Christ is born”, and we respond with some kind of strength: “Let us glorify Him”, it is not just perfunctory or a thing we have to say. We say it because we like to do it. Let us glorify Him, together with His Father, who is from everlasting, and His all-holy, good, and life-creating Spirit, now, and ever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

† Archdiocese of Canada - Orthodox Church in America