Thank you for that singing of Silent Night, Holy Night. Today is the first time in my long ministry that I have scheduled the singing of that great Christmas carol on a time other than Christmas Eve. In a pattern very different from that of the suburban church I served for twenty-seven years, many people in this congregation go away for Christmas and are not here for the Christmas Eve candlelight service, a highlight of the year for me and lots of other people. Thus it seemed good to schedule what is arguably the most popular Christmas carol in the western world while many of you are still here.
When the session interviewed me for the position of interim pastor, one of the many questions they asked me was whether I would schedule Christmas carols for the Sundays during Advent or schedule only Advent hymns on those four Sundays. I said I had always scheduled Christmas carols throughout December and would continue to do so if invited to come to Rutgers. It must have been the correct answer because I was offered the job, which I happily accepted.
There is actually a Silent Night Association as well as a Silent Night Museum in Austria. Bill Egan, who calls himself a Christmas historian, writes about what he calls the fanciful tales surrounding the origin of the carol Silent Night, Holy Night. What is not disputed is that the words of the carol were written by Joseph Mohr in 1816 when he was a young priest assigned to a small church in Austria. He took the words with him when he was transferred to a church in Oberndorf the following year, 1817.
A year later on December 24 Joseph Mohr took his poem to the residence of the musician-schoolteacher Franz Gruber and asked Gruber to set the words to a simple melody that could be played on a guitar. Mohr wanted to sing his words set to music at the midnight mass several hours later. That night, December 24, 1818, Joseph Mohr and Franz Gruber sang the carol for the first time ever in St. Nicholas Church in Oberndorf, Austria, with the assistant pastor, Joseph Mohr, accompanying on his guitar. They sang the six verses and the choir joined in the repetition of the last phrase of each verse.
I suspect that much of the carol's enduring power lies in the utter simplicity of its music as well as the meaning of its words. John Freeman Young's English translation from the German has been the standard version in the United States for almost a century and a half.
The third verse of Silent Night contains the words "Son of God, love's pure light radiant beams from thy holy face, with the dawn of redeeming grace, Jesus, Lord, at thy birth." For me the central truth of the Christian faith is that God is a gracious God. That is to say, God loves not because of any human deserving but because that is the nature of God. The Gospel story of the Christmas event is a story of grace.
Listen to these verses from the Gospel according to Matthew, chapter one.
(Matthew 1:18-24)
Those verses remind us that deep within the story of Christmas is the profound truth that Jesus Christ, the child of Mary, is a savior. Matthew says he saves from sin. I like to recast that and say he saves us by being Emmanuel—God with us. The one whose birth we celebrate at Christmas has been called "the light of the world." It's as though he illumines every kind of darkness we will experience on this journey of life.
I'm sure you know that early in the history of the Christian Church, the celebration of Christmas, or Christ's birth, was set a few days after the winter solstice, usually December 21, when the northern hemisphere experiences the faint beginning of lengthening daylight after the longest night. As the fourth Gospel says, "The true light that enlightens everyone was coming into the world."
Throughout the year we talk about and think about the meaning of God's grace, God's saving presence with us in every aspect of life. Our first lesson this morning was about King David's desire to build a "house" for God since the king lived in a structure of cedar wood and the Ark of the Covenant, symbolizing God's presence, dewelt in a tent. Nathan the Prophet told David in effect that God didn't want a permanent structure to symbolize God's presence, preferring the mobility of a tent. The prophet reminded King David that God had been with the people when they were "on the move" and that God would continue to assure the divine presence everywhere—a strong reminder that God is not limited to "the Church" either as buildings or a particular gathering.
This morning I want to tell you three stories that point in the direction of grace as we use that word in the Christian faith community. They are all true stories.
The first story is a wonderful contrast to the endless details of Bernard Madoff's defrauding of investors who trusted him with their money, lots and lots of their money. He has acknowledged to his family the nature of his investment scheme, so that we don't need to use the word alleged fraud. We can say his acknowledged fraud.
In contrast there was the story on television Thursday night and in the NY Post Friday of Mary Alice Fallon, a ninety-two year old great grandmother from Queens, who regularly bought scratch-off lottery tickets in a neighborhood store. A few days ago she bought three tickets and scratched off the numbers. Assuming she hadn't won anything, she discarded the tickets on the counter. A twenty-four year old clerk, Chris Connelly, picked them up and scanned them to see if they were winners. He got a reading that one of them was a winner, so he finished scratching off what Mrs. Fallon had left undone. He discovered that the ticket he held in his hand was worth one million dollars payable over twenty years.
He immediately told Mrs. Fallon, who hadn't left the store, of her winnings and gave her the ticket. He said it never occurred to him to keep the ticket. His father, who was interviewed on television, said it was one of the proudest days of his life. Mrs. Fallon's seven children each have given the honest clerk one hundred dollars, a modest sum in light of what he did. But his honesty is the bright light in the story. That kind of goodness shines in the darkness.
The second story is something I read in the Presbyterian Outlook. It is about a church in Lumberton, North Carolina. Some time ago some church members decided to offer special hospitality to the people living in nearby residential homes, homes offering shelter to people with varying kinds of special needs. They began by organizing a special Sunday School class to which the residents were brought in vans. After several months some people invited the class members to congregational dinners on Sunday nights. As more time passed, some people from the residential homes attended worship services and seemed to enjoy them.
Eventually the pastor and the Sunday School teachers decided to offer the home residents an opportunity to become members of the church. They held some sessions at which they talked about God as we know God through Jesus. At the last session the teachers felt three of the residents seemed interested in becoming members of the church. They asked all three the simple questions Do you affirm Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord and do you want to become a member of the church. Two of the three responded with enthusiastic yes's to both questions. But the third was silent.
After a long pause, the pastor again asked the third person, a woman, the two questions of faith and membership. The woman slowly raised her arm and shook her fist in an action of affirmation, then raised her arm again and shook her fist—her way of giving an affirmative answer. The pastor said, "Cynthia didn't have the words, and after [what she did] neither did we." Grace doesn't always come in words. It often comes in actions—arms shaken in affirmation or in hugs and deeds of caring.
I heard the third story recently from a visitor from out of town. She is in touch with a family adjusting to a down-turn in their income. The family agreed to visit the local mall where they often shop, to look at the various Christmas displays, but not to buy anything on that occasion. In one of the stores the father noticed his son looking longingly at a compact disk many of his friends were enjoying. They exited the store and were about to leave the mall when the son said he wanted to go back for a last look at the thing he wanted to buy.
The father waited outside the store but could see his son. The son pocketed the compact disk and left the store, telling his parents he was ready to go home. The father said, "No, you're not ready to go home. I'll go with you while you put back what you took. And if I ever see you do that again, I'll turn you in to the store security." The father put his arm on the son's shoulder as they returned the item and went to their car.
Sometimes love has to be tough. Grace isn't always easy. But its central truth is we don't have to be alone. If we look in the right places, there are people willing to put an arm on our shoulder and go with us through the rough places.
Such people are the angels we sing about at Christmas and through the year. They make real for us the affirming, welcoming, comforting, and challenging love of God. They light up whatever darkness we encounter on the pathway of life.
The dawn of redeeming grace began in Bethlehem. It continues in New York, Bagdad, Chicago, Mumbai, and wherever there is life. It gives rise to hope. Thanks be to God.