Christmas 2019

They’re pressing in through the dark to see the child. Darkness so permeates Rembrandt’s “Adoration of the Shepherds” (1657) sketch that we can barely see the image of these night visitors. As our eyes adjust, we see the faces of shepherds longing for a glimpse of the baby that sleeps between Mary and Joseph. Their leader carries a lantern to the lead way in the night: another light shines back toward the shepherds from the holy family. 

When Rembrandt drew this sketch, he was already a master painter and had produced multiple images filled with striking details and vivid colors. Over thirty years earlier, he painted a stunning image of the “Adoration of the Magi,” but I am drawn to this rough sketch with just an outline of the shepherds gazing at the child. 

The shepherds have traveled through the hills in forbidding night to behold this wonder. Their lantern reminds me of the blazing angels who called out to them. “Fear not” the angel declares. In one sense, this is addressed to the trembling hearts that behold the glory of God. At the same time, “Fear not,” resounds in the heart of this sullen world. Not merely the evening at hand, but the deep darkness of the age. 

The shepherds survive at the bottom of a social order where human life is often treated with contempt. The Romans regularly crucify, beat, and round up Jewish suspects. At the same time, Herod, the king of the Jews, is ready and willing to kill, behead, and crush anyone who gets in his way, including the innocent children in Bethlehem when he goes looking for the newborn king. 

In this mournful world, the light of God’s promise shines out with a message of Good News. The shepherds hear this great acclamation, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!” We also hear this word of promise. 

For our world so often feels like it is dark and getting darker. Rembrandt also knew a world of striving. He had lived through the horrors of the thirty years’ war where Christians from all sides (Roman Catholic, Protestant, and Anabaptist) tortured and killed one another. He has seen the atrocities of human hearts turned against one another. 

In this bleak world of human struggle, the shepherds hear the word of promise, the word of peace on earth, the word of Shalom, of restored well-being, of all creation brought into the proper harmony with God and one another. Shalom points to a day of justice for all: all wrongs made right. Isaiah sees even enemies coming together in love. What a word of hope for our age and our day and even our nation. 

The angels do not simply proclaim peace but begin with the pronouncement, “Glory to God in the highest.” Joseph Ratzinger suggests that this is vitally connected to the promise of peace. He writes, “This is what Bethlehem teaches us about peace: peace among men comes from the glory of God.” (Benedict XVI, The Blessing of Christmas, trans. Brian McNeil (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2007), 104.)

The shepherds set out to behold this wonder, this promise of peace, this newborn king who is a Savior to his people. The shepherds set out to behold the “Glory of God in the face of Jesus.” This is a glory that shines out in the deepest gloom, in the pitch-black night. This is a glory that overcomes the dark. 

Now, as we gaze with the shepherds at the babe lying between Mary and Joseph, we are seeing the glory of God revealed in the humiliation of Jesus. According to Philippians 2, the Son of God has humbled himself, emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in likeness as a man. Philippians continues, “And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” (Php 2:8). 

Even as we behold the glory of God revealed in the baby Jesus, we are beholding the coming glory of His life poured out in the cross. As Jesus prays in John 17,  “Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son that the Son may glorify you, since you have given him authority over all flesh, to give eternal life to all whom you have given him.” (Jn 17:1–2).

Thus on this night of nights, the shepherds behold the day of days. They encounter the “Glory to God in the highest.” They see the hope of all things made new in Christ. They behold the love that conquers the divide of sin and death, and the same love will bring and even is bringing peace, shalom to all the world. 

As I continue to gaze with the shepherds in the darkness, I see the glimmering light that will not be put out. Amid wars, political in-fighting, human striving for power on all sides, violence and poverty around the globe, I see the promise of God in Christ Jesus. On this day of days, I rejoice and sing with the angels, “Glory to God in the Highest.” He has not forsaken or forgotten us or those who suffer in various ways across our world. 

Now it is time set out with the shepherds who according to Luke, “made known the saying that had been told them concerning this child.” (Lk 2:17). May we all go forth with the word of the angels on our lips even as our lives follow in the way of Jesus Christ whose life is poured out for the life of the world.

“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!”

The coffee shop streams with people coming and going this cool December morning on the last day of 2012. The lady to my left works a crossword puzzle. The couple to my right discusses the political anger that seems to abound in our culture. One girl reads her Bible. One couple quietly communicates with hand gestures back and forth, back and forth.  A lady in the corner sits in front of her computer, looking at her iPhone and listening to something (music or otherwise) on her bright red headphones. I love the color red.

Barristas scurry from sink to coffee machine to cash register. All the while swapping stories, sharing smiles and greeting incoming customers. The room buzzes with a white noise that helps quiet me as I read and pray.

The opening sentence in the Daily Office for today reads, “Behold, I bring you good news of a great joy which will come to all the people; for to you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” (Luke 2:10, 11)

I sit back and reread these words.

“Behold, I bring you good news of a great joy which will come to all the people; for to you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” (Luke 2:10, 11)

Again.

“Behold, I bring you good news of a great joy which will come to all the people; for to you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” (Luke 2:10, 11)

I keep hearing the words from Pope Benedict XVI in his book, “Jesus of Nazareth: The Infancy Narratives.” He points out that the angel addresses Mary with the Greek word “chaire instead of the Hebrew word “shalom.” This Greek word means “Rejoice.” Benedict writes,

“Joy appears in these texts as the particular gift of the Holy Spirit, the true gift of the Redeemer. So a chord is sounded with the angel’s salutation which then resounds throughout the life of the Church. Its content is also present in the fundamental word that serves to designate the entire Christian message: Gospel— good news.”[1]

I am struck by the immediacy of the address. The angel address Mary and the shepherds with this immediate command. “Rejoice.” Today, this very moment, heaven has broken into earth. Christ is come. The world is changed. Rejoice! In the words of the Apostle Paul, “Today is the day of salvation!” Today.

This word jolts me awake. For the Good News has come to me here, this moment at Starbucks, in the midst of many movements, I am stilled by the Word that raises my soul to life. “Rejoice!” Even as I rejoice, I hear the call to confession.

“Let us confess our sins against God and our neighbor.”

Here is my feeble confession to the Good News that is too good to be true but still is true:

Lord I confess I am dead to the life-shattering news of Emmanuel.

I confess I my ears have been dulled by the distracting roar of my heart’s strivings for vain pursuits and I have failed to hear the Good News.

I confess that I’ve been blinded by lesser lights and I have failed to behold your Glorious Light and my desperate darkness.

I confess that I’ve reduced the coming of our Lord to a distant event in the ancient past or uncertain future, and I have failed to realize that Christ is come today and today is the day of salvation.

I confess that the Good News fails to echo in my soul with the fire of joy, so my joy dissipates in lesser loves and momentary delights.

Lord have mercy.
Christ have mercy.
Lord have mercy.

Fire my soul, my mind, my heart, my body with the news that is ever New and the Word that is ever Present. In your grace, let me hear and respond to this Word Today, to the birth of Jesus, the One who lived, died and rose again. To the Lord Jesus Christ who ever intercedes for me and all creation before the Father in heaven. To the Savior Who is present by His Spirit and is Filling all things to the Fullness of Your Glory.

[1] Pope Benedict XVI (2012-11-21). Jesus of Nazareth: The Infancy Narratives (Kindle Locations 369-372). Image. Kindle Edition.

Image thanks to Avondale Pattillo UMC via Creative Commons.

Photo by Daniel Stillman (used by Creative Commons Permission)

God rest you merry! Gentlemen (and Gentlewomen). We’ve been invited to a feast. Twelve days of rejoicing alongside Mary and Joseph, of beholding with the shepherds, of singing with the Holy Innocents and all the saints, of kneeling with the wise men before the babe who holds the world in His hands.

One moment we were longing and waiting and crying out in the darkness of Advent, and the next moment, the Son of God appears just down the street, just round the corner, in a nearby field. One moment we were in our homes, our jobs, our busy lives, and the next moment we heard an angel say, “Rise up shepherd and follow.” We followed into the small Palestinian village of Bethlehem to behold the “Peace on Earth Good Will to Men.”

Awestruck, we are called to worship and eat, laugh and sing, dance and make merry. Heaven and earth are joined in cosmic celebration of Emmanuel, God with Us, the Hope of Israel.

But all this rejoicing is simply too much for most of us. So we open few presents, sing a few songs and pack up the tree and decorations for next year.

In some ways, the Advent fast is easier to understand than the Christmas feast. During Advent we face the darkness of our world and our soul, but during the Christmas feast we behold the Light of the World in a manger. Crouching in the dark is easier than dancing in the light. We’re simply too weak for sustained happiness.

As Chesterton reminds us, “Happiness is a mystery–generally a momentary mystery–which seldom stops long enough to submit itself to artistic observation, and which, even when it is habitual, has something about it which renders artistic description almost impossible. There are twenty tiny minor poets who can describe fairly impressively an eternity of agony; there are very few even of the eternal poets who can describe ten minutes of satisfaction.”[1]

Happiness is a momentary mystery.

If that’s true, how can we sustain happiness for twelve days of feasting let alone throughout the joyous season of Epiphany? We are simply too weak and too old for such a task. Once again, I turn to the master. Chesterton writes, “we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.”[2] Sin weakens our capacity for the deep joy of our Heavenly Father.

True feasting is far harder than true fasting. True feasting enlarges, opening up the depths of wonder within and around us. Sadly, we live in a world that confuses sensuous gluttony for feasting. Our drunken stupor actually deadens the senses and reduces our capacity to know happiness or deep joy.

One of the weaknesses in some medieval expressions of the Christmas feast was this gluttonous indulgence that led to violence, sexual immorality and damaged souls. Sickened by the deadly extravagances, some U.S. colonies simply outlawed Christmas altogether.

But you can’t keep a dead man down. Christmas returns in the industrialized world of America and England in a new form, stripped of the twelve days of feasting. This new holiday focused on a day of celebration for family and friends.

Christmas became and remains sort of a national holiday for the secular religion of our culture. This isn’t a recent change. It actually is part of the reformulation of the modern Christmas that happened in the nineteenth century. Jack Neely recently posted an interesting quote that diminished any spiritual connection with Christmas from the turn of last century,

“Don’t think that Christmas is not your holiday because your religious beliefs don’t run that way,” ran the cheerful squib in the Republican daily, the Knoxville Journal, in December, 1911. “It’s your holiday, if you want it, and its religious significance is its smallest element.” Reprinted from another paper, it ran without comment.[3]

We inherited a holiday that had lost connection with its roots in fasting and feasting. Most of us grew up by celebrating Christmas all through December and culminating in the big Christmas Day that came too fast and was over too soon. For many people, Christmas could not live up to the promise of restored childhood innocence.

We attempt to overcome this disappointment, this emptiness by making movie after movie about keeping the spirit of Christmas alive, or by falling into the trap of gluttony and gorging on more and more and more stuff. It Santa doesn’t bring me what I want, I’ll charge it and buy it myself! In the process, we actually deaden our ability to wonder.

Even in indulgences, the grace of God cannot be thwarted. By celebrating Christmas, singing carols, decorating trees, and telling stories, we edge ever closer to a thin place. We enter into the danger of encountering something much deeper than a secularized festival. We tread on the holy ground of the Christmas Feast. Chesterton writes, “The great majority of people will go on observing forms that cannot be explained; they will keep Christmas Day with Christmas gifts and Christmas benedictions; they will continue to do it; and some day suddenly wake up and discover why.”[4]

One Christmas in the later 80s, I asked, “Why?” Why do we have a tree? I decided no tree. No pagan festival in our home. Kelly prayed for a tree. Someone showed on our porch with a tree. I thought, “Well if the Lord wants to answer her prayer, I’m not going to stand in the way.” We made homemade decorations.

I kept asking why. Why do we celebrate Christmas? Why do we sing about 12 days of Christmas? As I continued to ask questions, I moved closer to the mystery of happiness and the absurdity of the Christmas Feast. How the could angels sing when wars did not cease? How could this story seem sweet when innocent babes died under Herod’s cruel hand?

The paradox of the Christmas Feast is that it does not deny the presence of pain and sin and struggle in the world. The Slaughter of the Holy Innocents is actually part of the feast. And yet, against the backdrop of this pain, the Christmas Feast taps an ancient mystery far more ancient than the utter sinfulness of sin. Reaching all the way back to the earliest moments of Creation, the Christmas Feast celebrates the Lord who beholds His creation and sees that “It is good!”

It Is Good.

At the heart of all things, we hear the ringing observation of God Himself, “It is good.” The Hebrew word for good is “towb.” This richly textured word means far more than good. Inherent in the word is beauty, kindness, happiness, and more. Our Lord creates a world that is beautiful, full of joy, pleasing to the senses, and truly kind. His creation is not only good but Very Good.

The Christmas Feast celebrates this good and wondrous world our God created by enjoying it: eating, drinking, laughing, playing, embracing, giving, and worshipping. Our feasting is extravagant but not the empty gluttony that seeks to feed to sin sick soul. It is doxological. Worshipful. Grateful. It holds joy and sorrow together in a dance of sacred awe.

By juxtaposing the dark yearning of Advent with the bright gaiety of Christmas, the church invites us to worship God in the midst of a world that has been scarred by sin and evil. We do not deny the anguish, but we bring it into perspective by focusing our eyes on Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith.

As we behold Christ, we behold the Word Made Flesh. “All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made.”[5] On Christmas, we celebrate “God with Us” in the midst of His own good and beautiful creation. All things created in and through Him. All things restored in and through Him. Though His world is scarred by sin and evil, He does not abandon it, but redeems it. He defeats evil, and restores it.

We tune our hearts and minds and bodies to behold the babe, the Lord, the Savior, the King of Kings. We choose to rejoice, to laugh, to sing serious and silly songs, and to sing praises to the One who created this world of wonder. Our praise is prophetic for it points to the ultimate defeat of all evil and the ultimate enthroning of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Even as we choose to delight in the Christmas Feast, we mock the power of death, knowing that death itself will die and every oppressing ruler will fall and fully submit to the good God who created this good and wonderful world.

It is absurd to rejoice when we are weak and frail and so fully aware of our own sinfulness. And yet we do. We turn from the darkness; we look to the light. In the turning, we open time and space for surprise. Our Lord so often surprises us with a happiness that we cannot grasp, cannot evoke and cannot sustain. And yet, we can delight in it. We can celebrate His faithfulness to immerse us in righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.

Let us not abandon the Christmas Feast too soon.

God rest you merry dear friends!

[1] Chesterton, G. K. (Gilbert Keith) (2009-12-15). Works of Gilbert Keith Chesterton. (350+ Works) Includes The Innocence of Father Brown, The Man Who Was Thursday, Orthodoxy, Heretics, The Napoleon of … What’s Wrong with the World & more (mobi) (Kindle Locations 5712-5714). MobileReference. Kindle Edition.

[2] Chesterton, G. K. (Gilbert Keith) (2009-12-15). Works of Gilbert Keith Chesterton. (350+ Works) Includes The Innocence of Father Brown, The Man Who Was Thursday, Orthodoxy, Heretics, The Napoleon of … What’s Wrong with the World & more (mobi) (Kindle Location 51605). MobileReference. Kindle Edition.

[3] Neely, Jack. “Christmas in the City, 1911.” Metro Pulse, December 21, 2011.

[4] Chesterton, G. K. (Gilbert Keith) (1990). The Collected Works of G. K. Chesterton, Volume 33, page 478. Ignatius Press, 1990.

[5] John 1:3. English Standard Version (ESV), The Holy Bible, English Standard Version Copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a division of Good News Publishers.

Adoration of the Magi (Leonaert Bramer)

On Christmas Eve, time is full and taut like a balloon about to burst. At any moment, the Light of Christmas will break forth. At any moment, the angels will sing. At any moment, the ordinary day will be overtaken by “O Holy Night.” The Lord’s appearing is so very near, and so very hidden.

A long wait precedes this sudden appearing of Word Made Flesh.

Those who’ve kept the vigil have been waiting all through Advent. But is not Advent just a way of focusing the deep anticipation we’ve felt throughout our lives? Christmas but the rehearsal of His sudden appearing in the middle of the night. He is so very near, and so very hidden until the sudden moment of appearing.

This vigil for the coming of the Lord burns in the hearts of God’s people from age to age. It may be that we are called to wait and watch on behalf of all creation. Daniel knew this calling, this yearning. Three times a day he faced Jerusalem; he watched and waited, longing for the call of God that would bring His people home.

The call came in the command of King Cyrus. The exiles began a new story of exodus and restoration. Hope pulsed in their hearts. They were like people who dreamed. Their mouths filled with laughter. The Lord turned the captivity of Zion. Old things passed away. All things became new.

But all things didn’t become new instantly. The Promised Land seemed old and worn out. The promises weak and feeble. The milk and honey didn’t flow. The land had become harsh. Alien people and alien gods surrounded them. Israel felt crippled by the enemies around them and within them. Even their own memories betrayed them.

They remembered Solomon’s Temple when the glory was too thick to see. That temple would not, could not be rebuilt. They were too poor, too short of resources. This second temple would be shameful in comparison. The old things that passed away seemed far more glorious than the meager new things.

They lost hope, lost heart and shrank into the shadow of stronger foes. They quit watching and waiting. The unbuilt Temple abandoned. The darkness of Palestine overcame the light of faith.

Zechariah appeared as a voice in this wilderness saying “Prepare the way of the Lord.” He saw a man dwelling among myrtle trees who was the Angel of the Lord. He revealed that the glory of the Lord was in their midst, and they didn’t even know it. He was so very near and so very hidden. They were called to watch and wait, trusting the faithfulness of the Lord. By His grace, they rebuilt the Temple, they rebuilt the city, and they looked for the coming of Messiah.

After 400 years, Jerusalem still watched and waited. When would Messiah come? When would evildoers be overthrown? When would light overcome the darkness? The dark shadow of Rome covered the land.

Into this dark night, a light shined. A babe was born who was Christ the Promised King. In the birth of Jesus, the shepherds beheld the “man among the myrtles” born as a babe. Emmanuel, God with us, was revealed. He came to live in the midst of His people and in the midst of their darkness. The angels sang and the sky lit up in doxology.

But a glorious night passes into a dark day of bloodshed as Herod sought to kill all the male babies. After the grand announcement of “Peace on Earth,” this babe of peace was whisked away and hidden in the deserts of Egypt. The Light came into this world and promptly hid from the darkness.

As we wait and watch, we may wonder if the darkness has swallowed the light and overcome it. Like the exiles returning home, our Christmas joy often fades into promises that seem weak and feeble.

Staring into the bleak landscape of the Civil War, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow knew this discouragement firsthand. His wife burned to death in an accidental fire. His son entered the war against his wishes and was severely wounded. His nation, the shining city on a hill, now sunk into dark valley of bloodshed. He cried out,

‘There is no peace on earth,’ I said,
‘For hate is strong and mocks the song,
Of Peace on earth, good will to men.’

But he was not forsaken in the dark. He too would come to know that there is a “man among the myrtle trees.” Longfellow would behold the One is who so very near and so very hidden. He continued writing,

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.”

Longfellow, like us, had to discover that darkness could not swallow the Light of Glory. Jesus was born to enter that darkness and overcome it. In His Life and Death, He defeated the power of the sin and darkness and arose in the light of Perfect Love.

He ascended to the Father. Yet even now Jesus, “the man among the myrtles,” dwells among us by His Spirit. He dwells with and in us as we traverse dark lands. We may lose hope and even lose faith. But He has already overcome this momentary darkness. We are bound to Him by His Spirit, so even as we stumble in the valleys of death and affliction, we are not forsaken. Even as we waste away, we are being renewed.

So we watch and wait for His appearing.

We yearn for Christmas Light in a dark and weary world. We know His light shines ever brighter in and upon us though sometimes it is veiled from our eyes. He is so very near and so very hidden. Paul reminds us, we must not lose heart even when it feels like the darkness is growing stronger and we are growing weaker. He is glorifying, perfecting, completing the work begun in us and in His creation. We are growing brighter and brighter in the Light of our Lord.

This transformation, this waiting and watching for the Light is truly rehearsed in our Christmas celebration. In the fullness of time, the Holy Night of Christmas bursts forth the from expectancy of Advent. The sudden surprise of Christmas appears. The Son is fully unveiled in Glory. We behold Him even as we shine in the Light of His Glory.

So let us keep the vigil in and out of season.

Merry Christmas as we celebrate the sudden surprise of His coming and look forward to the sudden surprise of His coming.