"Calm and Bright"

Christmas Eve 2018

Luke 2:1-20

            I am not fooled. Y’all are not here tonight for the sermon. You hope to hear a good word, yes. But this is one worship service where the sermon is not a big draw. You’re here for the candlelight and the carols. You’re here for the familiarity and the feeling of warmth and family. You’re here to make sure God is still speaking, God is still entering history; God is still speaking to you and is still willing to enter your history and your life. What makes this time of worship especially beautiful is that it’s dark outside but the church is lit up. There is a light shining in the darkness and the darkness does not overcome it. This time is beautiful because when we sing “Silent Night,” we will dim the electric lights, so that our candles can be better seen. There is darkness in the world, and in our lives, so the little candle we each hold is a promise, a reminder that “the people walking in darkness have seen a great light and on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned,” as says the prophet Isaiah. The candle is a light shining in the darkness that the darkness cannot overcome, as is found in the Gospel of John. We come tonight to be reminded that there is hope, that there is light. We come for the calm and bright.

            This year is the 200^th anniversary of “Silent Night” and we’ve been commemorating that in a worship series this Advent. Each of the four Sundays we focused on a different verse and now we’re here on Christmas Eve, the night when we will finally sing the whole song. This won’t just be about peace or hope or joy or redeeming grace, it’s about all of them. While we’ve tried to tease them apart this Advent, the truth is they all go together. The first Sunday I shared about the Christmas Truce of World War I. In 1914, on the Western Front, the two sides agreed to a ceasefire in honor of the holiday. One day of peace. During that time of quiet, the soldiers could hear each other singing “Silent Night, Holy Night,” each in their own language. They recognized they were singing the same Christmas carol and came out of their trenches and met up in no man’s land, to sing together and play soccer and exchange small gifts. One day of peace became one day of joy and love and probably even hope. This is what Christmas carols like “Silent Night” can do. They can reach into our lives that are troubled with pain and despair and offer the incredible promise of hope. Perhaps this Christmas can be a ceasefire from our own sources of conflict.

God came at Christmas in the tiny, vulnerable package of a baby so that we might have hope and courage in the dark and in the pain. This is why we gather, so that God might enter our lives even now. No wonder we grow quiet. The first Christmas probably wasn’t silent and calm, with all the noises of the animals and the baby and the bustle of people all around and Romans guards. Yet somehow we get from the hustle and bustle and endless to-do lists to a time when “all is calm, all is bright.” It’s not escapism and it’s not denial. It’s simply allowing worship of Jesus Christ the newborn baby to be first. It’s remembering that this baby is King, and is in charge. It’s remembering why this baby came, to be a light in the darkness, to be the redeeming grace we so desperately need.

There’s another Christmas carol called “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day” that’s based on a poem called “Christmas Bells” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. The poem begins, “I heard the bells on Christmas Day/ Their old, familiar carols play,/ and wild and sweet/ The words repeat/ Of peace on earth, good-will to men!” It starts off nice and sweet, right? Here’s a little of the backstory: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s wife died in 1835. He remarried in 1843, and then she died in a house fire in 1861. Shortly thereafter, his son was wounded in the Civil War. With war raging, and bearing so much loss, he woke up on Christmas day 1863, right in the middle of the Civil War and wrote this poem. One of the middle stanzas says, “The cannon thundered in the South,/ And with the sound/ The carols drowned/ Of peace on earth, good-will to men!” And the last two stanzas, the end of the poem, “And in despair I bowed my head;/ "There is no peace on earth," I said;/ "For hate is strong,/ And mocks the song/ Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"// Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:/ "God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;/ The Wrong shall fail,/ The Right prevail,/ With peace on earth, good-will to men."”

This is why we are here tonight. To hear those bells peal out louder than hate and despair. To be reminded that there is hope. To be reminded that conflicts will end. To be reminded that the darkness does not prevail because the light will always shine in the darkness. To be reminded that we can be calm even in the midst of the storm and bright even in the midst of darkness. And we hold the light for others whose candles have been lost. You can always find the light here. You can always find the calm and bright here. There is a light shining in the darkness and the darkness does not overcome it. God is still speaking in the carols and in the candlelight, offering that incredible promise of hope. This is why we come. This is why we are able to grow calm and quiet during this time of worship.