All Is Calm, All Is Bright
Sermon
Praying For A Whole New World
Gospel Sermons For Advent/Christmas/Epiphany Cycle C
What a time for an angel to forget his lines!
It was the Christmas Pageant at Gravesend, New Hampshire. The Episcopal Church was packed with worshipers, well wishers, and relatives of the cast. Attendance was up, thanks to a positive preview in the local newspaper. The drama critic had reported, "The quintessential Christmas tale, the luster of which has been dulled by its annual repetition, has been given a new sparkle."
One reason for the excitement was the presence of a small boy named Owen Meany. For years his diminutive size had made him a natural for the role of the Announcing Angel. The pastor's wife would hoist him on a rope, where he could swing out of the stage and announce the good news. This year, a much larger boy named Harold Crosby has been assigned the angelic role, and Owen, who was the smallest kid anybody had ever seen, had assumed the role of Baby Jesus.
The moment came when it was time for Harold Angel to descend from the darkness. "Be not afraid!" he said in a quaking voice. Then he repeated it again. "Be not afraid!" When he said those words a third time, it was obvious he had forgotten the rest of his lines. He spun around and faced the back of the stage and said, "Be not afraid" in an indistinct mumble.
Suddenly another voice spoke up. It came from down below, in the hay. The child in the manger knew the forgotten lines, and in a cracked falsetto, his voice rang out. "FOR BEHOLD, I BRING YOU GOOD NEWS OF A GREAT JOY WHICH WILL COME TO ALL THE PEOPLE."
Prompted by the Christ Child, the angel repeated the announcement. And when the spotlight fell on the créche, "the congregation was also prepared to adore him -- whatever special Christ this was who not only knew his role but also knew all the other, vital parts of the story."1
Tonight is Christmas Eve. All the angels are summoned to tell what they know. Prompted by the birth of Jesus, they announce that something decisive has happened. God has broken through the darkness. A Child has been given to us, to reign in our hearts and to rule the world. The word that best sums up this gift is peace.
"Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!"
Maybe we are thinking about peace tonight. A stack of Christmas cards has come to the mailbox. About half of them bear the greeting, "Peace on earth." Peace is a wonderful thing to wish for somebody else. It is a blessed thing for which to hope -- primarily because it seems to be in such short supply.
This is December 24, after all. For many people it is the busiest, most erratic day of the year. How many of you were out on the roads this afternoon? Anybody dare to stop at the supermarket? Are your children calm and quiet? This is a night when we could wish for a little peace.
A lot of things might be on your mind tonight. When I was a teenager, I remember one Christmas Eve very distinctly. My family was sitting in our favorite pew. As we lit the candles and sang "Silent Night," my father began to fidget. I turned with a quizzical look and he whispered, "I don't have my shopping done."
As soon as the benediction was over, Dad took us home so Mom could hustle us into bed. Then he blazed a trail for the local Mammon Warehouse to make a few more purchases. The next morning he announced he hadn't been the only one there. Needless to say, my brother, two sisters, and I were glad that he made the trip.
This may be the busiest time of the year. There is so much to do: packages to wrap, places to go, people to see. We might wish for peace.
Even though it is Christmas Eve, for many people in the world it is merely another day. In Africa, eleven million people have died from the AIDS virus, and millions more are at risk. In the horn of Africa, hundreds of thousands have withered to death from famine. In the Balkans, people are still uncovering unspeakable cruelties in their land. There are places in the world where Christmas cease-fires are tentative, and people from both sides of an arbitrary line will carry automatic rifles into worship.
Yet here we are, gathered before red poinsettias and a big green tree. Our choirs have spent weeks tuning up for this one night. The ushers have handed out candles and rounded up a few extra fire extinguishers. We tell familiar stories to our children and sing favorite songs. At the center of all we sing and pray, we dare to claim that "all is calm, all is bright."
We do it, of course, because that is the proclamation of the angels. "Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors." At the center of the Christmas story is the announcement that God has given peace to the earth. Peace is not a vain dream or a vague hope. Peace is already here. But what kind of peace are we talking about?
If peace means the ability to get along with others, we are anxious for it. An editorial in a local newspaper asked, "Why can't we stop all the mudslinging in our town?" The writer was referring to borough council meetings, but she could have been describing school board meetings or character assassinations in the church kitchen. Sick of the conflict, she urged a verbal cease-fire for the holidays. "We have to stop fighting and start working together."
If only it could be that easy. If peace were merely a matter of being nice to people with whom we disagree, maybe we could do it. Yet disagreement and discord seem inevitable.
If the peace of Christmas refers to the ability to find some serenity within our own souls, we are ready for it. There are hidden wounds from childhood, which re-emerge this time every year. Life can fracture us. Maybe that's why we have come to church tonight. Perhaps we hope the old stories and favorite songs will bless us with personal peace.
Or perhaps we think of peace in global terms. Nations are in pain. Children are hungry. If we could only stop the nations from conspiring and stop the peoples from plotting in vain (Psalm 2:1)!
Yet the peace announced by angels was a different kind of peace. The angels did not announce peace to shepherds who fought with one another. They did not speak to troubled herdsmen whose heads and hearts were divided. And they did not blow their trumpets in the halls of power.
When the angels spoke of peace, they broke the silence from God. They shattered the darkness with news of a savior. From the highest place in the universe, they announced God has come down to make peace with all creation. God has moved toward sinful, destructive people with purely peaceful intentions. Can you understand the depth of that announcement? The angels came to say:
? The God whose name is Mystery has spoken to us;
? The Creator whose actions are more subtle than we can see has kind intentions toward us;
? The One who made heaven and earth has come down among us to redeem and reconcile.
Listen -- the angels announced good news for all people. They said, "God has come to you."
What a remarkable thing to say to a group of anonymous shepherds! Shepherds had a hard life. They wandered from place to place and depended on the land for survival. As the shepherds heard the good news, it did not remove them from troubles in the world. When the night is over, they are still nameless. And yet, a word of peace is spoken to them.
It is a remarkable thing for angels to announce to us, because it does not deny the troubles and dangers we face. Neither does it turn aside from the pain still evident in God's creation. God's peace comes in the midst of our trouble and pain to assure us that "all is calm, all is bright." Have you ever experienced that peace?
An elderly woman was going through a great deal of physical pain. Physicians told her that she would not get well. She faced a long painful decline. One night in December, however, a choir of Presbyterian angels appeared in her driveway to sing carols. She opened the door just in time to hear these words,
How silently, how silently, the wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts the blessings of his heaven.
No ear can hear his coming, but in this world of sin, where meek souls will receive him, still
the dear Christ enters in.2
She listened to those words, waved goodbye, and shut the door expecting aches and pains. In that moment, she felt a tranquility she had not known in months. Hobbling up the stairs, the aches and pains returned. Yet something was different.
That is the peace announced to us on Christmas. It is not the absence of pain, but serenity in the midst of stress. Peace is the momentary yet unmistakable awareness that all is right with the world. Peace is the fleeting but very real insight that, beyond all of our troubles, "all is calm, all is bright." As revealed in the skies above Bethlehem, we have a God who loves us, keeps us, and comes to fill us with the peace of the Holy Spirit. The birth of Jesus has changed the world. God has come. If we believe it, if we want to believe it, we are prompted by the Christ Child to join the song of the angels. And we can receive a gift from God that the world cannot give.
Archbishop William Temple once put it this way:
Let us at all costs avoid the temptation to make our Christmas worship a withdrawal from the stress and sorrow of life into a realm of unreal beauty. It was into the real world that Christ came, into the city where there was no room for him, and into a country where Herod, the murderer of innocents was king.
[Christ] comes to us, not to shield us from the harshness of the world but to give us the courage and strength to bear it; not to snatch us away by some miracle from the conflict of life, but to give us peace -- his peace -- by which we may be calmly steadfast while the conflict rages, and be able to bring to the torn world the healing that is peace.3
May the peace of Christ be with you all. Merry Christmas!
____________
1. John Irving, A Prayer for Owen Meany (New York: Ballantine Books, 1989), pp. 216-217.
2. "O Little Town Of Bethlehem," verse 3.
3. Exact source unknown.
It was the Christmas Pageant at Gravesend, New Hampshire. The Episcopal Church was packed with worshipers, well wishers, and relatives of the cast. Attendance was up, thanks to a positive preview in the local newspaper. The drama critic had reported, "The quintessential Christmas tale, the luster of which has been dulled by its annual repetition, has been given a new sparkle."
One reason for the excitement was the presence of a small boy named Owen Meany. For years his diminutive size had made him a natural for the role of the Announcing Angel. The pastor's wife would hoist him on a rope, where he could swing out of the stage and announce the good news. This year, a much larger boy named Harold Crosby has been assigned the angelic role, and Owen, who was the smallest kid anybody had ever seen, had assumed the role of Baby Jesus.
The moment came when it was time for Harold Angel to descend from the darkness. "Be not afraid!" he said in a quaking voice. Then he repeated it again. "Be not afraid!" When he said those words a third time, it was obvious he had forgotten the rest of his lines. He spun around and faced the back of the stage and said, "Be not afraid" in an indistinct mumble.
Suddenly another voice spoke up. It came from down below, in the hay. The child in the manger knew the forgotten lines, and in a cracked falsetto, his voice rang out. "FOR BEHOLD, I BRING YOU GOOD NEWS OF A GREAT JOY WHICH WILL COME TO ALL THE PEOPLE."
Prompted by the Christ Child, the angel repeated the announcement. And when the spotlight fell on the créche, "the congregation was also prepared to adore him -- whatever special Christ this was who not only knew his role but also knew all the other, vital parts of the story."1
Tonight is Christmas Eve. All the angels are summoned to tell what they know. Prompted by the birth of Jesus, they announce that something decisive has happened. God has broken through the darkness. A Child has been given to us, to reign in our hearts and to rule the world. The word that best sums up this gift is peace.
"Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!"
Maybe we are thinking about peace tonight. A stack of Christmas cards has come to the mailbox. About half of them bear the greeting, "Peace on earth." Peace is a wonderful thing to wish for somebody else. It is a blessed thing for which to hope -- primarily because it seems to be in such short supply.
This is December 24, after all. For many people it is the busiest, most erratic day of the year. How many of you were out on the roads this afternoon? Anybody dare to stop at the supermarket? Are your children calm and quiet? This is a night when we could wish for a little peace.
A lot of things might be on your mind tonight. When I was a teenager, I remember one Christmas Eve very distinctly. My family was sitting in our favorite pew. As we lit the candles and sang "Silent Night," my father began to fidget. I turned with a quizzical look and he whispered, "I don't have my shopping done."
As soon as the benediction was over, Dad took us home so Mom could hustle us into bed. Then he blazed a trail for the local Mammon Warehouse to make a few more purchases. The next morning he announced he hadn't been the only one there. Needless to say, my brother, two sisters, and I were glad that he made the trip.
This may be the busiest time of the year. There is so much to do: packages to wrap, places to go, people to see. We might wish for peace.
Even though it is Christmas Eve, for many people in the world it is merely another day. In Africa, eleven million people have died from the AIDS virus, and millions more are at risk. In the horn of Africa, hundreds of thousands have withered to death from famine. In the Balkans, people are still uncovering unspeakable cruelties in their land. There are places in the world where Christmas cease-fires are tentative, and people from both sides of an arbitrary line will carry automatic rifles into worship.
Yet here we are, gathered before red poinsettias and a big green tree. Our choirs have spent weeks tuning up for this one night. The ushers have handed out candles and rounded up a few extra fire extinguishers. We tell familiar stories to our children and sing favorite songs. At the center of all we sing and pray, we dare to claim that "all is calm, all is bright."
We do it, of course, because that is the proclamation of the angels. "Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors." At the center of the Christmas story is the announcement that God has given peace to the earth. Peace is not a vain dream or a vague hope. Peace is already here. But what kind of peace are we talking about?
If peace means the ability to get along with others, we are anxious for it. An editorial in a local newspaper asked, "Why can't we stop all the mudslinging in our town?" The writer was referring to borough council meetings, but she could have been describing school board meetings or character assassinations in the church kitchen. Sick of the conflict, she urged a verbal cease-fire for the holidays. "We have to stop fighting and start working together."
If only it could be that easy. If peace were merely a matter of being nice to people with whom we disagree, maybe we could do it. Yet disagreement and discord seem inevitable.
If the peace of Christmas refers to the ability to find some serenity within our own souls, we are ready for it. There are hidden wounds from childhood, which re-emerge this time every year. Life can fracture us. Maybe that's why we have come to church tonight. Perhaps we hope the old stories and favorite songs will bless us with personal peace.
Or perhaps we think of peace in global terms. Nations are in pain. Children are hungry. If we could only stop the nations from conspiring and stop the peoples from plotting in vain (Psalm 2:1)!
Yet the peace announced by angels was a different kind of peace. The angels did not announce peace to shepherds who fought with one another. They did not speak to troubled herdsmen whose heads and hearts were divided. And they did not blow their trumpets in the halls of power.
When the angels spoke of peace, they broke the silence from God. They shattered the darkness with news of a savior. From the highest place in the universe, they announced God has come down to make peace with all creation. God has moved toward sinful, destructive people with purely peaceful intentions. Can you understand the depth of that announcement? The angels came to say:
? The God whose name is Mystery has spoken to us;
? The Creator whose actions are more subtle than we can see has kind intentions toward us;
? The One who made heaven and earth has come down among us to redeem and reconcile.
Listen -- the angels announced good news for all people. They said, "God has come to you."
What a remarkable thing to say to a group of anonymous shepherds! Shepherds had a hard life. They wandered from place to place and depended on the land for survival. As the shepherds heard the good news, it did not remove them from troubles in the world. When the night is over, they are still nameless. And yet, a word of peace is spoken to them.
It is a remarkable thing for angels to announce to us, because it does not deny the troubles and dangers we face. Neither does it turn aside from the pain still evident in God's creation. God's peace comes in the midst of our trouble and pain to assure us that "all is calm, all is bright." Have you ever experienced that peace?
An elderly woman was going through a great deal of physical pain. Physicians told her that she would not get well. She faced a long painful decline. One night in December, however, a choir of Presbyterian angels appeared in her driveway to sing carols. She opened the door just in time to hear these words,
How silently, how silently, the wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts the blessings of his heaven.
No ear can hear his coming, but in this world of sin, where meek souls will receive him, still
the dear Christ enters in.2
She listened to those words, waved goodbye, and shut the door expecting aches and pains. In that moment, she felt a tranquility she had not known in months. Hobbling up the stairs, the aches and pains returned. Yet something was different.
That is the peace announced to us on Christmas. It is not the absence of pain, but serenity in the midst of stress. Peace is the momentary yet unmistakable awareness that all is right with the world. Peace is the fleeting but very real insight that, beyond all of our troubles, "all is calm, all is bright." As revealed in the skies above Bethlehem, we have a God who loves us, keeps us, and comes to fill us with the peace of the Holy Spirit. The birth of Jesus has changed the world. God has come. If we believe it, if we want to believe it, we are prompted by the Christ Child to join the song of the angels. And we can receive a gift from God that the world cannot give.
Archbishop William Temple once put it this way:
Let us at all costs avoid the temptation to make our Christmas worship a withdrawal from the stress and sorrow of life into a realm of unreal beauty. It was into the real world that Christ came, into the city where there was no room for him, and into a country where Herod, the murderer of innocents was king.
[Christ] comes to us, not to shield us from the harshness of the world but to give us the courage and strength to bear it; not to snatch us away by some miracle from the conflict of life, but to give us peace -- his peace -- by which we may be calmly steadfast while the conflict rages, and be able to bring to the torn world the healing that is peace.3
May the peace of Christ be with you all. Merry Christmas!
____________
1. John Irving, A Prayer for Owen Meany (New York: Ballantine Books, 1989), pp. 216-217.
2. "O Little Town Of Bethlehem," verse 3.
3. Exact source unknown.
