Traditional Christmas Eve at Bethlehem

Luke 2:1-20

In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. 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. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. 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.

In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 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: to you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.”

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favours!”

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.” So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.

Dear beloved of God, grace and peace to you from Jesus Christ who is born among us this night, Emmanuel God with us. Amen.

The other day I found myself engrossed in a recording of a children’s Christmas program. There was no reason that I should have been. It was a seven-year-old video. Presumably, it was shot on someone’s cell phone, so the quality wasn’t fabulous. It contained neither of my two children. Matter of fact, I didn’t know anyone in it, and yet for its entire four-minute duration, my eyes were glued to my phone. It was enchanting.

Now I could blame the pandemic. I could say that there was something delightful about seeing a group of kids singing their hearts out. I could say that it was simply good to see a group of people together enjoying one another safely.

But that wasn’t it. In a sea of 20 little faces, there was one little girl who captured my attention.

As the rest of the kids were doing the prescribed hand motions that their teachers painstakingly taught them, she was singing along doing her own thing, seemingly blissfully unaware that the rest of her class was doing one thing and she another.

I do miss that stuff. The moments that happen when we’re all together. When kids big and small come together to tell this familiar Christmas story. I miss the Christmas programs and concerts and plays. There’s always one kid, it was usually me, that stands out for being distracted, or grumpy, or singing a little off-key but super loudly. I miss that.

I miss having a full sanctuary and begging you all to shuffle in a little closer to make room. I miss the gauntlet of doing five, six or seven worship services in a day just to create as much room as possible for people to come and hear the good news of great joy.

As tonight has drawn closer and closer I worried that it wouldn’t be enough. You know? That whatever we had to offer, somehow wouldn’t be able to measure up. It wouldn’t meet the needs of a people who are hurting, it wouldn’t soothe the souls of those who are feeling alone. I worried that we wouldn’t be able to capture the beauty and the wonder and the majesty of Christmas Eve.

Then I saw this little girl.

The little girl’s name is Claire. And as you probably figured out she’s signing as she sings “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” Claire can hear, but her parents are deaf. Since she was a very little child her first forms of communication were through sign language. And while it’s natural and seemingly effortless at this point for this young girl to sign as she speaks or in this case sings, that’s not why she’s doing it. 

She’s signing for her parents, she’s singing in a language they can understand. She’s singing for them. And man alive if she isn’t pouring every ounce of love she’s got into that song.

There are easily 50 or more kids on that stage with hundreds of parents and grandparents and friends and relatives in the audience but Claire is singing her heart out for an audience of two. This song of joy is for them.

Alone. In the fields. The shepherds were surviving. They were making ends meet. They were eking out an existence. They were just putting one foot in front of the other trying to make it to tomorrow. And suddenly the angel of the Lord shows up. 

Don’t be afraid they say.

The fact that the angel has to verbalize it probably indicates that it’s too late. They’re already terrified.

Don’t be afraid. For see. I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.

To you. For you. The angel’s appearance to the shepherds isn’t a news broadcast. It’s not a public service announcement. They’re not getting a robocall that is hitting every household. This is particular. It’s personal. This is God’s good news for them. This baby has come to earth for them. To you is born this day a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. 

Out of a sea of millions of people, God is singing a song of love just for them. Though they’re alone. Though they feel forgotten. Though they don’t know what tomorrow will bring, God has broken through the veil of night and said this thing I am doing is for you.

It’s for you.

Listen. In this year when everything seems to be going wrong, the angels are singing their song for an audience of one. For you. In a year of heartbreak and frustration and isolation, the God of the universe has shown up for you. In a year that has been declared the year without precedence, God does the ultimate unprecedented thing and takes on our humanity and lives with us, loves with us, cries with us, and dies with us so that we might never be alone. And God does it for you.

Listen. Tonight there is a song that once again promises to break through the veil of this long night. And God is singing it for you.

Because for you born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. Amen.