Grace Presbyterian Church
December 24, 2015, Christmas Eve C
Isaiah 9:2-7; Luke 2:1-20
Unsilent Night
John Bell, a hymn
writer and leader of the Iona Community in Scotland, occasionally gives talks
on the subject of the songs we sing as congregations and the ways they shape
our thinking about God, for better or for worse. Bell is particularly keen to
point out that our hymns and even carols sometimes have a really bad habit of
putting in our heads very unrealistic images. For example, Bell cites the carol
“Away in a Manger,” in which we are informed that even though “the cattle are
lowing, the baby awakes, but Little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes.” Given the
scene in which the infant Jesus is resting in a feed trough, with cattle and
who knows what other animals are “lowing” and probably worse, I’ve always
thought Bell’s response to that “no crying” line was quite on point: “Why not?
What’s wrong with him?”
Even though we
will in fact sing “Silent Night” toward the conclusion of the service, we need
to be able to acknowledge that the Nativity was probably a bit more chaotic
scene than we might imagine in our Christmas carol-informed minds. Because
there was “no place for them in the inn,”
Joseph and Mary had been shunted aside into an animal stall of some sort, where
the newborn child Jesus was wrapped up in cloths and laid in a manger. There
was no room in that inn most likely because the Roman emperor of the time had
ordered an empire-wide census of all of the residents within the Roman realm,
which led to the chaos of families and individuals packed up and returning to
their family hometowns to be counted (remember this in 2020, and be glad all
you have to do is fill out a form). Bethlehem wasn’t exactly a bustling
metropolis, so the number of people filling the inn argued against quiet as
well.
The animals
accustomed to having the stall to themselves were most likely a bit unsettled
by the presence of these unfamiliar humans in their space, and were likely
making noise about it. Finally, the act of childbirth itself is not exactly a
stress-free experience for most; if Mary was in fact quiet and silent, it was
quite possibly because after their stressful travel and then giving birth, she
was exhausted.
Finally, the
child. Children are chaotic creatures. Whether it is the infant crying out for
no apparent reason, or the toddler who can inexplicably get to everything in
the house no matter how you child-proof it, or the twelve-year-old who really
knows how to cause trouble (that’s a preview of Sunday’s sermon, by the way),
children tend to wreak havoc. In short, no matter what Joseph Mohr and Franz
Gruber might have come up with, it’s pretty unlikely that the night of Jesus’s
birth was anything at all like a “silent night.”
And that, my
friends, is part – a big part – of the good news.
The kind of event
Isaiah’s prophecy describes isn’t “quiet” news, for one thing. It’s joyful
news, it’s news of something exciting and uplifting that God’s people will be
delivered. It’s exciting that “a child
has been born for us” – how many times do you hear an announcement about a
new or impending birth being greeted by demure, polite commentary? No, people
shout and laugh and make joyful noise. Isaiah truly wouldn’t get this business
of a silent night.
Luke’s own account
is pretty chaotic as well, even once you get past the actual birth itself. As
if Mary weren’t wiped out enough, here come these shepherds, rousted from their
pastoral duties by a decidedly unquiet “multitude
of the heavenly host” singing their most unquiet song about “Glory to God in the highest heaven.” As
the angels have told them, the shepherds do indeed go and find “Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in a
manger,” which was a wonder for the shepherds but a little bit of a riot
for the new parents, having a bunch of shepherds who had likely been out in the
fields for weeks suddenly crowding into the stall.
No, it’s not a
silent night, and that is good news.
God does not wait
around for our lives to be perfect and orderly and prim and proper before
breaking in on our world. God doesn’t wait for a room to open up at the Hampton
Inn (or at Shands for that matter) before being born. God doesn’t wait until
you’re ready for a holiday open house or homes tour before bursting into our
lives with the deliverance and salvation we didn’t even know we needed. God
comes to us when the time is right, not necessarily when we’re ready.
Amidst the chaos
and clutter, “a child has been born for
us.” Amidst the uncertainty and fear and disquiet of our own lives, “a son given to us.” Even as we face disorder
and chaos and illness and even death, the angels deliver “good news of great joy for all the people,” even us. The one is
born who will be called “Wonderful
Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace,” whether
everything is peaceful and orderly or not.
And this, maybe
more than anything else about this night, is good news.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Hymns:
“O Come, All Ye Faithful” (PH 41); “Hark!
The Herald Angels Sing” (PH 31); “Good
Christian Friends, Rejoice” (PH 28); “The
First Nowell” (PH 56); “Silent Night,
Holy Night” (PH 60); “It Came Upon
the Midnight Clear” (GtG 123)
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