This is a written version of my first Christmas Eve meditation on December 24, 2020. Because of the pandemic, we met for livestream-only worship in the sanctuary, followed by outdoor communion serving and closing candlelight circle. I shared a separate meditation later by the manger scene outdoors.
Did you know the classic Christmas song, "O Holy Night," contains a political statement that was bold and brazen for its time?
On Monday, many of us gazed into the sky and saw what has been dubbed the “Christmas Star.” Since this rare conjunction of planets is one way astronomers say God might have sent us the star of Bethlehem, I took it as a sign of hope in difficult times. How wonderful that for us, the "Christmas Star" happened to appear on the longest night of year. It’s been a year which has felt like one long night.
As I woke up Monday morning in what seemed like utter darkness, the song “O Holy Night” popped into my head. On the day of our darkest night, the first thing on my mind was the holiest of nights. So I did a little research.
Did you know “O Holy Night” was written in 1847? The text was written in the French language bv the French poet Placide Cappeau and set to music by French composer Adolph Adam. It wasn't translated into English until 1855.
Obviously, the major social issue blazing in the world in 1847 was slavery, and that's not just what was boiling in the United States. In fact, the following year, 1848, was the year slavery was finally abolished in France and the French colonies.
This simple fact deepens the impact of the last verse of "O Holy Night":
Truly He taught us to love one another;
His law is Love and His gospel is Peace;
Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother,
And in his name all oppression shall cease, …
That was a daring and direct statement with political implications! When the world was enraged and even on the brink of war over slavery, they openly sang that "the slave is our brother" and that in Christ's holy name, all such oppression shall cease. Period.
This gives us an angle on Luke's second chapter tonight. The very first "Christmas carols" in history - the canticles of Mary, Zechariah, and Simeon recorded in Luke - all sing that the coming of the Messiah had everything to do with God's concern for the lowly, the poor, the oppressed, and the marginalized.
That’s why Jesus was born in poverty. That’s why he came from a technically unwed mother. That's why his family didn’t have the connections to find a decent room when traveling to Bethlehem. That’s why they laid the baby Jesus in a messy feeding trough full of hay, and that’s why they were visited by smelly shepherds who’d been working all night long.
God adores the poor and lowly, the needy and oppressed. So in God's odd way of saving the world, God became one of them, so that Christ might save us all.
This year, which has felt like one long night, has been a year when we’ve been acutely aware of stubbornness of systemic racism, and yet we worship the one in whose name all oppression shall cease. This year, when politics have been so divisive, we worship the one whose gospel is peace. This year, when some of us live on the brink of religious division, we worship the one whose law is love. This year, when we have been dealing with the blows of a world-wide pandemic, we worship the one who taught us to love one another.
This holy child, this Messiah, this savior, this prince of peace came to not only show us what true love is, but to bust open the door holding back God's radical grace. The singers of these songs can see that the love of God saves the whole world, but especially pours out upon the places and spaces love hasn't been reaching.
May it reach you tonight.
