The Good News!


Welcome! I am the Rev. Dr. Ken Saunders. I currently serve as the rector of St. James Episcopal Church in Greeneville, Tennessee.

I preached all of the sermons posted here in the context of worship at the various places I have served. (from 2007 till present)


[NOTE: Sermons (or Homilies) are commentaries that follow the scripture lessons, and are specifically designed to be heard. They are "written for the ear" and may contain sentence fragments and be difficult to read. They are NOT intended to be academic papers.]

Wednesday, December 24, 2025

Christmas Vigil A 2025

The Rev. Dr. Kenneth H. Saunders III
Greeneville, TN

Christmas Vigil
December 24, 2025


On this holy night, we gathered with candles lit, in watchful waiting, to hear a story we know so well that it almost feels as though it belongs to childhood rather than to the rough edges of life. Yet the Church insists that we hear it again and again... year after year, without fail... because this story is not sentimental. It is not an escape from our everyday realities. It is our God’s decisive and strategic entrance into our real and broken world. 

St Luke begins the Christmas story not with angels or shepherds or a baby, but with an emperor. “In those days, a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered.” Luke is careful to put the birth of Jesus in perspective… in a specific time and place... in a political moment under a ruler. An emperor who claimed he brought peace to the world. He claimed peace through authority, power, and control. So the world is governed by force, ordered by decree, and sustained by fear.

It is striking how familiar that ancient world feels to us. We, too, live in an age shaped by power struggles and rulers competing for claims of authority. Our news is filled with reports of war and violence, of nations locked in conflict, of innocent people and families caught between forces far beyond their control. We see deep divisions within our own society, mistrust between neighbors, anxiety about the future of our democracy, the economy, and the well-being of the next generation. 

Many of us carry quiet fears that never make it to the headlines... Fears about illness and aging, loneliness and broken relationships… and fears about grief that feel so much heavier during the holidays. Luke doesn’t shy away from placing the birth of Jesus within the context of this struggle… our human struggle. Christmas does not occur outside of history; it happens right in the middle of it.

Joseph and Mary are forced to travel because of an imperial decree. They didn’t choose to travel… The journey to Bethlehem is not undertaken freely; it is demanded, and it’s difficult. Mary is pregnant and vulnerable, far from the safety of home. 

When they arrive, there is no room for them. So, the Holy Child, the Son of God, is not born in comfort, but in distress. The Lord of all creation begins his life as a refugee of an empire, lying in a feeding trough in the filth of a barn among the animals, wrapped in rags.

Here we can learn something essential about God revealed to us at Christmas… that God is not distant from our human suffering. God does not wait for ideal conditions… God breaks forth into the world precisely where the world is most fragile.

And then, in the fields outside Bethlehem, the story shifts. Shepherds are keeping watch over their flocks at night. Shepherds, workers with little status, little security, and little voice in society... They are not powerful, not influential, not even considered reliable witnesses. And yet, the heavens open wide to them.

And an angel of the Lord appears, as the scripture says, and “They were terrified.” Well, of course they were. Fear is the natural response when the divine interrupts our human routine. And so the angel speaks words that echo throughout history… “Do not be afraid.”

These words are not a rebuke to the shepherds... they are a gift. By saying “don’t be afraid,” The angels acknowledge that the shepherd's fear is real, but they also declare that fear will not have the last word.  “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for ALL people.” Not some… Not joy a select few, but ALL… Not joy for the powerful or secure. Not joy - just for those who can afford it.... But Joy for ALL people, everywhere.

The sign of this joy given to the shepherds is not a person in a palace with a throne, or a crown, but a helpless, innocent child, wrapped in rags, lying in a manger... A trough, used to feed animals. The glory of God is revealed in humility, not domination. And the power of God is shown in vulnerability, not coercion. 

And suddenly, the sky is filled with a multitude of angels praising God, saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors.”

I think this kind of peace is often misunderstood by many… This is not peace in the absence of conflict. Nor is it the quiet peace that comes when we ignore or become indifferent to the pain that surrounds us. The peace announced at Christmas is something deeper and more demanding. It is the peace that comes from the restoration of the world to right relationship... Right relationship between God and humanity, and right relationship between and among human beings. It’s a peace that’s rooted in justice, mercy, humility, and faithfulness. We know, painfully, that this peace is not yet fully realized. I think we can all be honest about that. The candles we lit were small, and the darkness is real. And yet, we lit them anyway.

In a world where violence still claims lives, where hatred still spreads faster than compassion, where fear is often leveraged for power, the Church dares to proclaim that peace has been born. That the restoration of the world has begun. Not completed... but begun. Not forced or imposed... but offered. Not fragile... but persistent.

The shepherds have heard the angelic message, and they say to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place.” They don’t stay in the fields debating theology or waiting for more certainty to come… They just go. They go, and they find exactly what they were promised... a child... innocent, small, and ordinary, yet bearing the weight of the world’s hope.

Afterward, Luke tells us that the shepherds tell others what they have been told. So the first evangelists to share the Good News are shepherds. God entrusts the proclamation of salvation not to emperors or priests, but to those the world overlooks.

And Mary, the mother... Mary treasures all these things and ponders them in her heart. She doesn’t fully understand yet what this child will mean for her life. She cannot foresee the cross, the resurrection, or the long history of the Church. But she holds the mystery quietly and faithfully, trusting that God is at work in the world even when the path ahead of her is unclear.

This also speaks powerfully to our moment... In this place, at this time… We often long for clarity and certainty. We want clear outcomes, quick resolutions, and guaranteed security. But Christmas invites us in another direction. It invites us to have faith rather than control, and to trust rather than dominance. It reminds us that God’s greatest work often begins simply, quietly, and invisibly, in places the world doesn’t value.

Tonight, the Church proclaims that peace has begun, and that God is with us... not only in joy, but also in our sorrow; not only in our celebration, but also in our struggle. Emmanuel does not mean that the suffering disappears; it means that God refuses to abandon us to it.

And this has consequences for how we live. If God chooses vulnerability, then so must we. If God comes among the poor and the displaced, then the Church must serve those on the margins. For in serving them, we are serving Christ. If peace is announced to shepherds, then our witness must be rooted in humility and service... not in power.

To follow the Christ of Christmas is to become bearers of the light of Christ for the world... Not loud or domineering light, but a steady, faithful light. Light that listens. Light that shows compassion. Light that tells the truth without cruelty. Light that remains when hope feels absent.

In the coming days, we will all return to our daily routines. And the news will continue to bring troubling headlines. And the struggles we carry won’t vanish overnight. But hopefully, we will remember that something changed. We remember that God has entered the story, our story, and because of that, our darkness will never be absolute again.

So on this holy night, as we lift our voices with the angels and we lift our candles against the dark… We proclaim, not wishful thinking, but holy truth... Christ is born. God is with us. Peace has come near. 

May we, like Mary, ponder this mystery in our hearts. May we carry this light into the world. And may the joy announced to the shepherds become the holy hope we make visible to others. Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace…

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