On Our Adoption into Glory: A Sermon for the First Sunday After Christmas

“Thine almighty Word, O Lord, leaped down from heaven out of thy royal throne.” (Wisdom 18:15) 

By Bp. Joseph (Ancient Church of the West) 

I say these things to you in the Name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

The Story of a King's Humility 

Allow me to begin with a story that reflects the mystery of Christmas. There was a great king who ruled over a vast and glorious kingdom. His subjects adored him, for he was wise, just, and compassionate. Yet, the king’s heart was burdened by the plight of a village on the edge of his domain - a village ravaged by famine and strife, its people too weary to hope, to think, or do anything more than react. 

One night, the king did the unthinkable. He exchanged his royal garments for the rags of a beggar and journeyed to the village. There he lived among the people, sharing their hunger and cold. He listened to their laments, healed their sick, and restored their fields. The villagers did not know who he was, but in his presence, their despair turned to hope. 

When the time was right, the king revealed his true identity - not to inspire fear, but to extend his invitation: “Come to my palace, not as strangers, but as my family.” In this humble and unthinkable act, the king brought the outcasts of his kingdom into his royal household. 

This is the story of Christmas, beloved: the King of Glory descending into the poverty of our humanity, not to judge us but to adopt us as His children. 

Scriptural Reflections 

Beloved in Christ, on this holy Sunday within Christmastide, the Church bids us contemplate the ineffable mystery of the Incarnation: God descending from the throne of heaven to make His dwelling among us. St. John Chrysostom marvels, "What shall I say? How shall I describe this Birth to you? For this wonder fills me with astonishment. The Ancient of Days has become an infant!" 

The Collect reminds us that the Word leapt down in the "quiet silence" of the night—not with thunderbolts, but in humble flesh, born of a Virgin. As St. Gregory of Nazianzus writes, "He who holds the universe in His hands is laid in a manger." This mystery is the hinge of all human hope: for by His coming, God not only redeems us from the law but adopts us as His very children. 

In the Epistle, St. Paul declares that we were once in bondage to the elements of this world, as heirs yet unredeemed. But in the "fullness of time," the eternal Son entered history, "made of a woman, made under the law," to bring us into sonship (Gal. 4:4-5). Here is the crux of our faith: we are no longer slaves but sons, heirs of God through Christ. The manger of Bethlehem becomes the cradle of our adoption, and the child swaddled there is the guarantor of our inheritance. 

A Virgin Shall Conceive 

In the Gospel, the Evangelist recounts the angel’s words to Joseph, who is told to name the child "Jesus" - for He will save His people from their sins. This Name, beloved, is the Name above all names, for it signifies the purpose of His coming: salvation. The prophet Isaiah had foretold, "A virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call His name Emmanuel, which means 'God with us'" (Matt. 1:23). 

St. Athanasius elucidates this mystery: "He became what we are so that He might make us what He is." Christ does not merely visit humanity; He assumes it, sanctifying every stage of human life from conception to death. Thus, in Christ, humanity is lifted from its bondage to sin and brought into the intimate life of the Holy Trinity. 

The Silence of the Incarnation 

Why, we might ask, did God choose such a quiet and hidden entry into the world? The great Anglican divine, Lancelot Andrewes, offers this answer: "It was not for want of power that He came so meekly. He could have come with might, but love drew Him thus gently." In the "quiet silence" of the Incarnation, we see the divine strategy of salvation: a stillness that shatters sin, a gentleness that conquers death. 

And this "quiet silence" is not only the backdrop of the Nativity; it is also the method by which Christ reigns in our hearts. As St. Ambrose says, "Let the Word of God enter quietly into your soul. Let it make a dwelling in the humility of your heart." 

The Patristic Witness 

The Church Fathers were always awestruck by this divine condescension. St. Leo the Great proclaims: “He took the form of a servant without the stain of sin, enlarging our humanity without diminishing His divinity. For He who made man remained God, and the servant's form did not lessen the Master's power.” 

Similarly, St. Irenaeus reflects, "He became what we are, that He might bring us to be even what He is Himself." The Incarnation is not merely a rescue from sin; it is the elevation of our nature into divine communion. 

Consider also the words of St. Athanasius: "The Word was made man, that we might be made divine; He became visible, that we might be capable of beholding the invisible." 

This, beloved, is the heart of our faith: the union of heaven and earth in the Christ Child. 

Reflections from the Caroline Divines 

The Caroline Divines saw the Incarnation as the cornerstone of Christian life and worship. Lancelot Andrewes, in one of his Christmas sermons, meditates on the humility of the Nativity: 

“A cold, poor, desolate condition, the stable, the manger, the swaddling clothes—all of these point to the lowliness He willingly took upon Himself. Yet herein lies His glory, for He stoops to conquer, and His strength is made perfect in weakness.” 

Andrewes encourages us to see in Christ’s birth not only His love but also His invitation: to descend in humility so that we might ascend in glory. 

The Nonjuroring Fathers and the Mystery of Adoption 

The Nonjuroring Fathers emphasized the Incarnation as the wellspring of our adoption into the divine life. William Law writes, 

“The eternal Son did not come to us as a stranger, but as the Life of our life, that we might share in the eternal family of God.” 

This echoes St. Paul’s assertion in the Epistle to the Galatians: "Because ye are sons, God hath sent forth the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying, Abba, Father" (Gal. 4:6). 

Through the Incarnation, the Holy Spirit makes our hearts the very cradle of Christ, where we cry out with the confidence of children to our heavenly Father. 

Oxford Movement and the Sacramental Mystery 

The Oxford Fathers (John Keble, Edward Pusey, and John Henry Newman) saw the Incarnation as the foundation of all sacramental theology. Keble, in The Christian Year, writes: 

“The child in human fashion laid,

Whom prayerful shepherds sought by night,

Brings to each soul, in lowly shade,

A pledge of glory infinite.” 

For the Oxford Fathers, the Incarnation was not a distant historical event but a present reality, perpetually renewed in the Eucharist. Newman affirms this truth: 

“The Word who once became flesh continues to dwell among us in His Church, in His Sacraments, and in His people. He is still Emmanuel, God with us.” 

When we receive Christ in Holy Communion, we partake of the same mystery the shepherds beheld in Bethlehem—the Word made flesh. 

The Incarnation and the Cosmic Drama 

Beloved, as we celebrate the Feast of the Nativity, let us meditate on the cosmic implications of the Incarnation. This is no ordinary story of salvation; it is the union of heaven and earth, time and eternity. The Word made flesh reveals a divine mystery that resonates with the great narratives of mythology and literature. 

George MacDonald portrays the Incarnation as the sanctification of the ordinary: "The baby is God’s whisper to the world, a declaration that every life is sacred, every moment holy." 

Chesterton’s vision in The Everlasting Man echoes this wonder: "The hands that had made the sun and the stars were too small to reach the huge heads of the cattle." 

J.R.R. Tolkien speaks of the Incarnation as the “true myth,” in which the echoes of all human storytelling find their fulfillment. He writes: "The Birth of Christ is the eucatastrophe of Man's history. The Resurrection is the eucatastrophe of the story of the Incarnation. This story begins and ends in joy." 

C.S. Lewis, reflecting on the same mystery, notes: "God descends to re-ascend. He comes down, down from the heights of absolute being into time and space, down into humanity. But He goes down to come up again and bring the whole ruined world up with Him." 

In Christ’s descent, there is an echo of Charles Williams’s “co-inherence,” the principle that God and man, spirit and matter, are intertwined in a shared redemptive reality. The Incarnation is the supreme co-inherence: God’s eternal Logos entering the finite, mortal world. 

T.S. Eliot’s Journey of the Magi captures the paradox of the Incarnation as both joy and upheaval: "This Birth was hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death. We returned to our places, these Kingdoms, but no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation." 

Even Alfred North Whitehead, who approached theology from a process philosophy perspective, recognized the Incarnation as a divine initiative that integrates change and permanence. In Christ, the Eternal Logos engages with the evolving and continually changing universe, weaving divine purpose into the fabric of creation. 

The Realization of the Cosmic Christ 

René Teilhard de Chardin offers a vision of the Incarnation that encompasses the whole cosmos. He sees the Word made flesh as the focal point of history and evolution. For Teilhard, the Incarnation is not merely an event in time but the axis upon which creation itself turns. He writes: "By virtue of the Creation, and still more of the Incarnation, nothing here below is profane for those who know how to see." 

Teilhard speaks of Christ as the Omega Point - the ultimate fulfillment toward which all creation converges, the “Cosmic Christ” of St. MaximosConfessor. This resonates with St. Paul’s declaration that in Christ, “all things hold together” (Col. 1:17). For Teilhard, the Incarnation is God’s sanctification of the material world, the moment when divine energy enters the evolutionary process to guide it toward its destined unity in Christ. As Teilhard de Chardin reminds us: “The Incarnation reveals not only God’s love for humanity but His commitment to the entire cosmos. Christ comes to unite all things in heaven and on earth, to bring creation into its ultimate communion with God.” Beloved, the Incarnation is not merely a doctrine to affirm but a mystery to live. Owen Barfield, a close friend of Lewis, reminds us to see with the “ancient eyes of wonder,” to recognize that in Christ, the material and spiritual realms are reconciled. In Him, all creation groans and rejoices as it awaits its fulfillment. 

The Perennial Wisdom and the Universal Call 

Rene Guénon and the Perennialist school remind us that the Incarnation embodies the “archetypal truth” that underlies all authentic spiritual traditions. Christ is the Logos, the divine Word that enlightens every culture, faith, and philosophy. Ananda Coomaraswamy reflects this when he observes: “The Word of God is not foreign to any tongue. It speaks to all, and its echoes are found in the ancient Vedas, the Upanishads, and the sacred scriptures of every land.” 

This does not diminish the uniqueness of Christ but magnifies it. For as St. John teaches, the Logos is both the light of men and the life of the world (John 1:4). In Christ, the scattered rays of divine wisdom find their perfect convergence. 

A Meditation on the Mystery 

Let us pause to meditate, beloved, to reflect on this holy mystery. The Incarnation is the ultimate paradox: eternity clothed in time, omnipotence cradled in vulnerability, the Creator lying in a manger. What does this mean for us? 

It means that no corner of human life is untouched by God’s redeeming love. The Incarnation sanctifies our joys and sorrows, our work and rest, our births and deaths. As St. Gregory Nazianzus writes: “Let us celebrate the mystery of our salvation, for in His Birth, He brings new birth to the world. In His swaddling clothes, He frees us from the chains of sin.” 

A Poet’s Reflection 

One of my most favorite Christmas hymns, by Christina Rossetti, invites us into the heart of this holy mystery: 

“Heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain;

Heaven and earth shall flee away when He comes to reign.

In the bleak midwinter, a stable-place sufficed

The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.” 

This poetic vision calls us to prepare our hearts as the stable where Christ may dwell, transforming our poverty into His riches. 

Conclusions

Beloved, as we gaze upon the Christ Child, let us marvel at the depth of His humility and the height of His glory. Let us kneel with the shepherds and rejoice with the angels. And let us remember that the Incarnation calls us to share in the divine life: “For ye are no longer servants, but sons; and if sons, then heirs of God through Christ.” 

Let us pray… 

The Collect 

Almighty God, whose eternal Word leaped down from heaven to bring light to the world and life to the lost, grant that, as we adore His Birth, we may be made partakers of His divine nature. Fill our hearts with His humility and our souls with His glory, that we, being adopted as thy children, may behold Thee face to face in Thy heavenly kingdom; through the same Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with Thee and the Holy Ghost, ever one God, world without end. Amen.