Silent Night

 

Scripture

2 In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. ² This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. ³ All went to their own towns to be registered. ⁴ Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. ⁵ He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. ⁶ While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. ⁷ And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

⁸ In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. ⁹ Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. ¹⁰ But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: ¹¹ to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah,the Lord. ¹² This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” ¹³ And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,

¹⁴ “Glory to God in the highest heaven,
    and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”

¹⁵ When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” ¹⁶ So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. ¹⁷ When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; ¹⁸ and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. ¹⁹ But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. ²⁰ The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.

 

Devotion

 One of my favorite Christmas Eve traditions is to curl up and watch Midnight Mass from Saint Peter's Basilica in Rome.  From the children who bring  to the baby in the manger to the Pope kissing the statue of the Christ Child before placing it in the manger, the entire service is stunningly beautiful.  And as the choir sings, a part of me thinks that this is what the choirs of angels that filled the night sky must have sounded like.  I would dearly love to spend just one Christmas Eve amongst the crowds that gather at Saint Peter's Basilica.

As beautiful as that service is (and as much of a liturgical snob I can be at times), I would trade 1,000 Christmas Eves in Rome for just one last Christmas Eve of my childhood.  Every year, we drove 3 hours to my grandmother's house, where we would hurriedly get into the dresses she had laid out for us.  Then, we'd hop back in the car and join 4 generations of my family for a  Candlelight Service in the church my mother had grown up in.  I would always find myself smooshed into the pew next to my grandmother...my favorite person in the world and whose favorite day of the year just happened to be Christmas Eve.

The service was about as 4 from Midnight Mass in Rome as you could get.  Something always went wrong.  One year, the greenery in one of the high windows caught fire and had to be put out by elders who carried in a ladder.  Another year, someone accidentally touched their candle to someone's hair-.  She wasn't hurt, but the smell of burnt hair mixing with fresh evergreens was terrible. And every year, Grandma would have tears in here eyes as she very loudly and very flatly sang "Silent Night."  Being next to her in that moment was enough to make your ears bleed and your heart swell with joy.  I would give almost anything to hold my lit candle next to hers one last time.

We have been trained to think of Jesus's birth as a moment of perfection.  The stable is immaculate and filled with only the sweetest smelling hay.  The wise men are well-groomed.  Mary seems almost unaffected by having just given birth.  But if we are honest with ourselves, then we'll admit that we've cleaned the whole thing up a good bit.  Mary...little more than a girl herself by today's standards...would have been exhausted from her ordeal.  Perhaps she hummed a flat lullaby to hush her infant's cries.  Joseph was probably more than a little on edge.  The shepherds would have been dirty from tending the flocks.  And the stable...well, it would have had all the sights and smells and sounds of a normal animal enclosure.  The whole affair was as human and as earthy as you could possibly get...and yet it was holy. 

This is the beauty of Christmas Eve.  On that night, we remember that God's divinity came to earth and made its home not in a royal palace or an immaculate cathedral but in a tiny peasant baby whose cradle was a feed trough.  Our Savior could have chosen to stay safely in the heavens with God on High, but instead, he chose to become someone who will get dirty...and who will get hurt ...and who will even die so that we  may know the power of God's love for us.  The theological term for all this is Incarnation.  But the word that my heart lifts up is just Love.

This year, most churches Christmas Eve services will be different.  They will be quieter.  More spread out across distance.  More bumpy as we adapt to different technology and adapt old practices for our new reality.  My family will not gather to worship in one place as they usually do...but they will still celebrate God's love coming to Earth.  They will still smile with joy as they hear the story of God's love perfectly expressed through all the messiness and unexpectedness of Incarnation.  And sometime in the dark of the night, I will remember a beloved face glowing in the candlelight as a flat voice sings:

Silent night, holy night,
Son of God, love's pure light;
radiant beams from thy holy face
with the dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth,
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth.

May your Christmas Eve be blessed.  May the wonder of God' s Incarnation find you where you are.  For though life may be different and we may grieve  for the Christmas that might have been,  the Christ Child is still among us.  He comes into our broken and hurting and messy places.  He comes to us just as we are.  And just as his earthly parents opened their arms to hold his precious frame, we are invited to open our hearts to receive him.  Beloved, look.  Love Incarnate is here.

 

 

Prayer

Jesus, thank you for coming among us to be God's love Incarnate.  Enter our hearts this Christmas Eve, just as you entered the world all those years ago.  We are ready to welcome you.