Christmas Eve
A Dialog Sermon Presented in Two Voices
Silent night, Holy night, all is calm, all is bright.
In song after song we transform this night into something holy and mystical. Decorations, gifts, food. In the midst of the ordinary moments of life we once more strive to find moments and meanings of beauty and peace, wonder and joy. We hear the Christmas story once more and are transported to another time and place.
On our Christmas cards we see two solitary figures captured in silhouette. They move peacefully through gently rolling hills toward the domed roof tops of the city of David. The holy couple are caught in the fading light of day as the first stars of night come out. In the clear dark sky, one star is beginning to emerge more brilliant than the others rising over the warm lights of the village of Bethlehem. Mary and Joseph coming to the end of their trip. The whole world waits in anticipation as the holy couple finally arrive at their destination.
It begins with a journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem--five miles south of Jerusalem. Joseph had walked the way before. A man traveling alone could cover the almost 100 miles from Nazareth to Jerusalem in four or five days but traveling with a wife nine months pregnant meant a trip of 8-10 days. At least the first part of the trip was almost all down hill--literally. The descent from the fertile plains around Nazareth to the Jordan River valley, well below sea level was a steady progression of dirt roads and switch backs. The walk south along the east bank of the Jordan River followed the Pilgrim Road through the olive groves which meant that there was fresh water and occasional shade. The road was busier than normal since so many were responding to the orders of Caesar Augustus to return to tribal towns of origin for registration. The number of traveling companions grew each day. Mary was young and healthy but the distance was great. By the time they reached the river crossing at Jericho, turning west into the Waddy Kelt she was getting very tired. They entered the region where centuries before the young King David had tended his father's sheep. The deep canyons and steep cliffs had no doubt inspired David's image in the 23 rd Psalm of the "valley of the shadow of death." The dry rough terrain signaled the beginning of the final climb up from the river village of Jericho and over Mount Olivet to Jerusalem. The road was one of the only routes east and was crowded and dusty. Mary was near exhaustion after over a week of travel. There was no way to make the journey any easier. Her choices were to be bouncing along on the back of a slow walking donkey or stumbling up the steep switchbacks on swollen feet. The baby kicking and rolling within her. If Joseph heard it once he heard it a hundred times, the questions. "How much further? Are we almost there yet?" He was filled with regret at ever having brought her on the journey. A young woman nine months pregnant on a hundred mile trip? More than once he had thought, "I should have left her home with her mother."
O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie. Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by.
The artists paint it as a quiet village surrounded by the rolling sheep filled hills. The stars are always bright and the night sky clear. We imagine two lone travelers knocking on door after door. They stand outside viewing the warm golden interior of honey comfortable firesides within. At last we see a kindly inn keeper leading the couple to the private shelter of a stable behind the inn.
As they crested Mount Olivet, Joseph was relieved to see Jerusalem across the valley. Taking the cut-off to Bethlehem meant a short walk of only five miles. He hardly recognized the "city of David". Normally a quiet country village of three or four hundred, the crowds of David's descendents filled the streets. People had camped out along the road under any tree or even bush. They tended their meager cooking fires filling the air with the smell of smoke, oils and cooking food. The lines for water at the wells snaked down one side street. Joseph had no family still living in the village so he headed to one of the two inns fearing in advance what he would find. The noise and crowds seemed to wear even more so on Mary. He sensed her anxiety and knew her time was close. He had to find some kind of shelter. He resolved that whatever the inn keeper could offer would be better than nothing.
Away in a manger, no crib for a bed,
the little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head.
The stars in the sky looked down where he lay,
the little Lord Jesus, asleep on the hay.
The cattle are lowing, the poor babe awakes,
but little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes;
The figures of the crèche are eternally frozen in a perfect moment. The birth of the perfect child is captured with Mary's arms humbly folded across her heart. Joseph always stands protective guard, each fold of his robe etched precisely right. The cow is always resting in the background in quiet repose while the donkey and sheep all also gaze respectfully on the manger. The straw is like spun glass, delicate clean wisps of comfort and warmth for the new born babe. All is picture perfect. Figurines of glass or wood posed in holy silence. The idyllic images with soft light, clean hay and the beauty of the mother Mary embracing her new child.
Do you know what a barn smells like? Old stale hay, molding grain, the heavy scent of animals and the musty dirt of the stable built into the hillside that rose sharply behind the inn. It was the best that Joseph could do. Mary was relieved to have anyplace to sit that wasn't moving. The night air was filled with the shouts of strange voices seeking to find family or friends. Groups moved through the streets seeking food and drink. The crowd of human bodies had brought with it animals that joined those of the inn keeper in the stable barn. The night air was filled with the sounds of humanity and animals. Even in the middle of the night the larger animals bang around with their big hoofs and swishing tails. The straw was old and the mice ran along the wall. The only light was from a smoky fire near the entrance for cooking and some warmth. The crowds were up late drinking and carousing through the streets. There was no privacy--no place to be alone with a new born. And if the stable wasn't crowded enough with the animals and various travelers who were crashing on what ever floor space could be found, it was about to get even more crowded.
The first Noel the angel did say
Was to certain poor shepherds
in fields as they lay;
In fields as they lay, keeping their sheep,
On a cold winter's night that was so deep.
Who has not been an angel or a shepherd? The gentle folk of the fields who tended the flocks grazing on the hill sides. The birth of the one who would become known as the Good Shepherd attended by those who really did care for their flocks. We picture their respect filled homage gazing upon the child who was promised to be the messiah--the savior of humanity. Over the years we have added a drummer boy, dancing shepherdess, an abundance of sheep and the great angel choir. We long to be blinded by the heavenly light and thrill to the orchestral grandeur of the glorious angel chorus. We join the shepherds and angels in singing God's praises.
Shepherds. There were already enough strangers and travelers in Bethlehem. The shepherds came form the hills outside the village. They were the course, uneducated, poorly dressed smelly laborers of the hills. Because of their lifestyle, shepherds were almost perpetually unclean to the religious leaders. All those hours alone on the hills. They came that night wandering through the streets and alleys seeking a new born child. They were sure there could be no confusion. They had been told that he had just been born. Told to seek him. Told that he was special. The wonder to them was that they found the baby. Found him as they had been told, in a manger. Not your usual birthing place so they knew he was the one. The word spread quickly through the crowded rooms. A new life entered the world. Another number for the Roman census.
"And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us."
Here is where the ideal and the real meet. The Norman Rockwell Christmas Card arrives in the home of a family struggling with financial need. A Christmas greeting comes to a family battling with illness. The perfectly wrapped gifts are placed under a decorated tree cut from a forest in a world with children starving. Christmas carols are played on the mp3 player of a soldier taking a break from the fighting.
"And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us."
We dream of the perfect Christmas with all the family gathered and everyone filled with joy and good will. But this is the real world. We each know the truth. And it was into the real world that Christ came. A world of smells and noise, crowds and dirt, victories and failures.
"And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us."
This is the real world but each Christmas we have our moments when there are glimpses of the ideal. The vision of what God would have us to know and be and live if only we can truly believe
that "...the Word became flesh and dwelt among us."
Amen