Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
December 24, 2020
Christmas Eve
Advent 2004
was brutal in the parish I was serving at the time. In the course of the first three weeks of
Advent, we lost three beloved parishioners.
The last was a 10 year old child who was killed in a freak accident with
her horse. Week after week we did
exactly what we would do here. The Altar
Guild set up the altar, changing the hangings from Advent blue to resurrection
white and back to Advent blue, setting out the silver eucharistic vessels in
place of the simpler Advent ones, and preparing the church. Advent greens were
replaced with flowers, which were replaced with greens for Sunday. The ushers and greeters prepared to welcome
people from the community and beyond.
The reception committee stepped forward week after week to put on an
appropriate funeral spread for all of the guests. The choir came together and sang, acolytes
stepped up, and Saturday after Saturday the church rose to the occasion, all
the while also preparing for Christmas.
As luck would
have it, the same Christmas about a foot of snow fell on December 23,
complicating preparations and making us wonder if we would even be able to have
Christmas Eve services. That year, for
some reason that completely escapes me, we thought it would be a nice touch to
have live animals in the children’s Christmas pageant, which also happened on
Christmas Eve. We had llamas, sheep,
dogs, and I forget what else all lined up.
That sounded like a great idea back in September when we planned the
pageant.
We arrived at
Christmas Eve that year sad, broken, angry, frustrated, tired, and all the
other feelings that come with great grief.
The person who plowed our parking lot was diligent and had plowed every
couple of hours during the snowstorm to stay ahead of the accumulation, so we
had parking. The streets were sort of
clear, passable at least. And to our
amazement, people-and animals- showed up.
Exhausted, grieving people made their way to the church, which took some
effort given the snow. I think we all
wanted to know that someway, somehow, the story of the baby in the manger meant
something, that God had really been born in our midst, and we were not alone.
And here’s
what happened. In the midst of our grief
over our deep loses, our frustration with uncooperative weather, our fatigue
from trying to balance way too many events and feelings, the Christ child was
born. We experienced the Christ Child in
the joy of the children and the patience of the animals, the magic of the
music, the light of the candles, the presence of each other, and the story that
is the same year after year. The angels
sang, the shepherds traveled, and Mary and Joseph marveled. We heard the words of Isaiah “For a child has
been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he
is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. His
authority shall grow continually, and there shall be endless peace.” And there
was peace in our broken hearts that night.
In the midst of a very difficult season, the Christmas story held.
I have been
thinking about that Christmas 16 years ago a lot lately. This night we gather, not in person as we
long for, but on Zoom and Facebook live in the midst of a very difficult season. Perhaps we wonder if the Christ Child can
actually be born virtually. We grieve
the losses of the past year, whether of loved ones or a way of life or freedoms
we once took for granted. We are
frustrated and sad that we cannot be with our loved ones this holiday season
the way that we long to do. And we are
sick and tired of masks and social distancing.
And yet, despite all of our grief, frustrations, and fatigue, the Christ
Child is born in our midst. Mary and
Joseph make their very inconvenient journey to Bethlehem as we endure the
inconveniences of a pandemic and trying to worship together on Zoom and
Facebook Live. The angels are singing
this night through the hymns we hear and sing.
The shepherds travel to Bethlehem to see the baby Jesus and to tell Mary
and Joseph all that had been told them just as we hear the ancient story once
again. Mary and Joseph ponder in their
hearts all that has happened just as we look into our hearts to find the Christ
Child in our midst. And, through our
candles, the light of Christ shines in the darkness.
The good news
of Christmas is not that the Christ Child is born in our midst when everything
is convenient and perfect. The good news
of Christmas is that Christ is born in our midst when the world looks dark and
scary to proclaim that there is a light that shines in the darkness and the
darkness cannot put the light out. The
good new of Christmas is that the story of the birth of Jesus holds, even when
tested in the darkest and most trying of times.
The good news of Christmas is that in the birth of this tiny child, God
is most certainly with us, both this night and always.
Amen.
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