Christmas Eve 2011   

Isaiah 9: 2-6; Luke 2:1-14

     Welcome on this holiest of nights.   I want to begin with a story about a young man named Marty.   Marty was a bright, lively eight-year-old who suffered from a minor disability--he was deaf in one ear.   He lived in a rural community of farms and fences.   Marty’s mom, Diane, was proud of her son.   She knew he had a kind and loving heart.   Several weeks before Christmas one year, Marty shared a secret with his mother.  He had been doing extra chores and saving up his allowance in order to buy  a Christmas present, a pocket compass, for his best friend, Danny.   Danny was being raised by a single mom and life for their family  was a daily struggle just to acquire the most basic of needs of food and clothing.   Diane knew that Danny’s mom was a very proud woman.  Diane doubted that Danny’s mom would allow Danny to accept a gift if he couldn’t give one in return.  Marty argued with his mother and finally said, “But what if it was a secret?    What if they never found out who gave it?”   Diane finally relented.   If somehow Marty could give Danny the gift without anyone knowing who gave it, that would be acceptable.  So, on Christmas Eve Diane watched her son walk out the door,  cross the wet pasture and slip beneath the electric fence on his mission of kindness.   Marty raced up to Danny’s door and pressed the doorbell.  Then he ran down the steps and across the yard so he wouldn’t be seen.  Suddenly, the electric fence loomed in front of him.  He could not avoid it.   The shock knocked him to the ground and he gasped for breath.  Slowly, he got up and stumbled home.   When he arrived home Diane treated the blister on Marty’s face caused by the electric fence, then put him to bed.    That night as Diane tucked Marty in, she silently complained to God  for allowing her son to be hurt when he was performing a good deed.  

     The next day, however, Danny came to the front door excitedly talking about his new compass.   Amazingly, Marty--who, you’ll remember, was deaf in one ear-- seemed to hear Danny talking--with both of his ears.  A few weeks later, a school nurse confirmed what Diane suspected:  Marty’s hearing in his deaf ear had been completely restored.   Though doctors said it might have been the shock from the electric fence, Diane believed it was a Christmas miracle. (1)

     Christmas is a night for miracles.   It is a magical night of wonder and faith.   How good it is to hear the prophetic words of Isaiah, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of  deep darkness on them light has shined . . . 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.”

     All of us know what it is to walk in darkness at some time in our lives.  Darkness comes in many forms--loneliness, pain, grief, confusion, heartache.   All these emotions seem to be intensified at Christmas.  It is no accident that Christmas falls just after the shortest day of our year.   December 21st, the winter solstice, is the shortest day of the year, meaning it is the day that we receive the least amount of direct sunlight.   But, at the darkest time of the year, our world turns a corner.   From today on, our days will get longer.   There will be a little more sunlight each day.  Christmas reminds us that light is coming into our world,  in a physical sense as well as a spiritual one!

     The shepherds out on a Judean hillside knew about darkness in a way that  city dwellers, particularly modern city dwellers cannot.   There was no artificial lighting in their world.   The only light came from the stars above.

So you can imagine how startled they were to be suddenly surrounded by a great light.   Luke tells us an angel appeared to them and the glory of the Lord shone around them.    The glory of the Lord is a wonderful thing, but when you are not expecting it, it must have seemed like an alien invasion.  Luke tells us the shepherds were terrified.   They had never experienced light like this.   But the angel reassured 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 Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.”

      In the darkness there is a light that shines . . . and that light is a baby born in Bethlehem.   That’s the good news for this night.  Jesus is the light of the world.

     On The Protestant Hour sometime back, the Rev. Harry H. Pritchett, Jr.,  told about the worst nativity pageant he could ever remember.   It was at the church where he grew up.   The youth group was staging a manger scene. Pritchett was chosen to play Joseph and his future wife, Allison, was chosen to play Mary.   They did their parts with seriousness and commitment, looking as pious  as possible.    And then it came time for the shepherds to enter.   The choir was singing ‘While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks by Night,’ and some of their fellow young people dressed in flannel bathrobes and toweled head gear proceeded to the altar steps.   Young Pritchett and Allison both managed to gaze solemnly at the straw which contained a naked light bulb.  But then one of the shepherds broke the sacred spell.   With his back to the congregation, he said in a very loud whisper for all the cast to hear, “Well, Joe, when you gonna pass out cigars?”    The spell of that occasion was not simply broken by his remark, it exploded.   The Mary and Joseph cover was completely destroyed as it became impossible to hold back the bursts of laughter.   The chief angel, standing on a chair behind them was the worst.   She shook so hard that she fell off her chair and simply rolled over on the floor, holding her stomach.   The strains of ‘Silent Night’ and ‘0 Little Town of Bethlehem’ were hardly sufficient to cover the uncontrolled snorts of the main characters.   Their much upset but good sported youth advisor said, “The only thing that didn’t go to pieces was the light bulb in the manger, it never went out.”  Harry Pritchett thought to himself later, that’s a nice image-  the light in the manger never goes out regardless of any mess we may make of things.  (2)