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Christmas Eve 2007 // Lessons and Carols // Northside Presbyterian Church
Scripture Luke 2:8-20
To Hear the Angels Sing
“And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host,
praising God and saying,
‘Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace among those whom (God) favors.’ ”
Did the angels really “say” this … or, might they have sung this?
Who is it that can say this cry of praise from “a multitude of the heavenly host” might not have comprised a sort of first-century Christmas carol? An orchestral outburst supporting the solo effort of one angel to all the shepherds – one messenger of God crying “good news of great joy” … our Christmas Joy Offering theme this year.
I cannot hear these words without hearing my mother’s favorite hymn, “It Came Upon the Midnight Clear”, resounding through the ages:
It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth,
To touch their harps of gold:
"Peace on the earth, goodwill to men (sic)
From heavens all gracious King!"
The world in solemn stillness lay
To hear the angels sing.
“To hear the angels sing.” Each of the four stanzas of this timeless treasure ends with a version of this phrase.
Song belongs with the Christmas story. It’s a match made in heaven – and given to earth. How can we celebrate the coming of the Christ child without lessons and carols? Proclaiming good news of great joy … glory to God in the highest … and peace on earth to the lowliest. As the most accurate rendering has it, “among those whom (God) favors” – namely in this narrative, those dirty, unrespectable sheep herders.
As I ponder how song belongs indelibly to the Christmas story, my soul wanders back to a year ago this week – and, only yesterday. To recent memories of two women afflicted with the progressive memory loss known as Alzheimer’s: one who sang and one who still sings the song of holy day hope … if little else.
Christmas week, 2006. Scene: the packed memorial service at First Presbyterian Church, Kalamazoo for Jean Wend’s mother, Jane Wend. One of Jean’s sisters, Bess, eulogizes her. Through Bess’ song of praise, it was shared with all of us that day how difficult it must have been for Jane Wend – in her final struggle with her disease – to imagine or celebrate much of anything.
According to Jean’s sister, and later confirmed by Jean herself, their mother – a joyful and much-beloved woman in her community – refused to sing her entire adult life … in church, or out. It seems she had been told as a child that she could not sing. And so, being the decent and orderly and in this case obedient Presbyterian she had seemed to be, Jane did not sing.
Until her final year. With her memory spent – perhaps including even those earliest of childhood memories of being told, “Jane: You cannot sing” – she burst out in song. And it was then – and only then – that her family realized that she seemingly knew every stanza of every hymn she’d ever heard. And for the first time, her loved ones discovered that Jane could actually sing – even if she could not carry much of a tune!
Still through the cloven skies they come,
With peaceful wings unfurled;
And still their heavenly music floats
O'er all the weary world:
Above its sad and lowly plains
They bend on hovering wing,
And ever o'er its Babel sounds
The blessed angels sing.
Last Christmas morphs into this … as I ponder the Christmas carols our humble septet sang yesterday afternoon for longtime Northsider Shirley Lewis and her new friends at the Huron Woods memory loss community. Or – more accurately put – when I ponder the Christmas carols Shirley Lewis sang with us.
Shirley – who had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s four years ago – had barely uttered a word at the lunch we all shared at a local restaurant the hour before. I doubt if she could have named half of the Northsiders in our group … though she had known us for countless years.
In the car ride to Huron Woods for our “concert”, I attempted to prompt a response from Shirley by softly singing “O Little Town of Bethlehem”. To my utter surprise, she not only began to sing it with me; she knew the words better that I ever did. The words, in fact, of nearly every verse.
And as we soon sang our carols – spiritual and secular – to the modest crowd gathered ‘round her unit’s Christmas tree, I could not help but notice that Shirley probably should have been standing and singing with us, all along. The good news of great joy … the glory to God in the highest … the good will to those whom God favors. It all just came tumblin’ out of her.
The glow on Shirley’s erstwhile empty face said it all. One could hardly stand near the radiance of her presence during our caroling and not be deeply moved.
As Maya Angelou might put it: Jane Wend knew and Shirley Lewis knows why the caged bird sings. For these muted songbirds – these two aspiring angels – had found their voices and wings both. As with Jesus saving the best wine for last at the wedding at Cana, their songs had been laying around, all along, in the supposed emptiness of their stone cold jars. Waiting to be noticed. Waiting to be heard. Waiting to be transformed. Wine waiting to be poured out, in celebration, and in love. Jesus – God – saving the best for last.
Or – should we say – saving the best for the last. Those today waiting with Alzheimer’s for their hope – individuals lost to the betrayal of their memory. Those of old waiting with flocks by night for their hope – a people lost to the betrayal of a whole community’s memory.
Those uniquely attuned to hear the song in our hearts … and, as the shepherds once did for Mary and Joseph, to sing them back when our memory fades.
O ye beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow;
Look now, for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing;
Oh rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing.
Whoever has ears to hear, let them hear the angels’ song of Christmas hope, peace, and everlasting joy.
Amen.
* * *
Prayer of Dedication
over the Christmas Joy Offering …
We have heard in our Christmas reflection, O God of greatest glory, the first three stanzas of “It Came Upon the Midnight Clear” referenced back to us. Let us hear now the final stanza:
For lo! the days are hastening on,
By prophets seen of old,
When with the ever-circling years
Shall come the time foretold,
When the new heaven and earth shall own
The Prince of Peace, their King,
And the whole world send back the song
Which now the angels sing.
For those church leaders whose days are hastening on … for those who study in our denomination’s racial/ethnic schools to become prophets of a time foretold … we dedicate with joy this Christmas Joy Offering at this time. And to the fulfillment of your peace on earth to those with whom you find favor.
In the name of the shepherds and Mary and Joseph – and Jesus – we pray.
Amen.
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