Follow the Wild Star

Christmas Eve 2013

We haven’t opened many Christmas presents yet this year, obviously, but we had an early celebration on Sunday with my in-laws in Charlottesville and the hit of the presents by far was this ladybug nightlight. 

As soon as Maya opened it everyone stopped what they were doing and started turning off lights and experimenting with the stars on different surfaces – ceilings, faces, under the dining room table.  All of us, young and old, were fascinated.  I was instantly brought back to the romance of planetariums, leaning back in your seat to look at the stars above in the darkened room. 

There is something about light shining through the darkness that just feels special, holy, even.  I think that’s what I love most about this night.  It’s dark outside, but there is just the right amount of light – the stars in the sky, the Christmas lights decorating houses and trees, candles shining on the altar. 

And of course, the unforgettable light blazing the way through the darkness of the Christmas story.  The angels shining as they deliver their message of good news, great joy to the shepherds in their dark fields.  That wild star leading the magi on their journey through the night.  If the angels had appeared to the shepherds one bright sunny afternoon, I’m not sure this story would be so magical.  I wonder if the shepherds might have missed the news, passed off the angels as one more distraction in the busy-ness of their lives.  If rather than a star, a wild cloud had drifted importantly by the magi, they might not have left everything to follow it.  Even if they had, I doubt their story would catch our imaginations the way it does.  There is something about these stories of light shining in the darkness that reminds us that God is shining through the darkness in our lives.  Through the sadness, the hardness of heart, the confusion, the loneliness, the anxiety.  No darkness is too dark for the light of God to cut through, warming the edges, the small light growing, making the darkness feel more bearable, somehow safer.

I think that’s why I picked our collect for tonight.  There are 3 choices for opening prayers for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.  So when Eileen was starting to put the bulletin together for tonight’s service, she asked me, since I was scheduled to preach, which collect I wanted to use for this service.  I quickly skimmed them and picked the one we used tonight.  

            “O God, you have caused this holy night to shine with the brightness of the true Light.”  I’ve always thought there was something about Christmas Eve that feels holier than Christmas Day.  We’re still anticipating Christmas, and not yet overrun by the gifts.  We’re out late at night in the dark Church dressed in our finest with the candlelight shimmering all around us.  And then that moment comes where we each hold up our candles and the light slowly spreads until you can look around and see the hopes and fears of all the years on the shining faces around you.  It’s that moment that I thought of when I chose the collect.  That moment when you can see and feel the true light shining in and through us.  That moment when the darkness no longer feels so dark.  When you have this glimpse of the love and goodness and light of God triumphing over everything else.

            But when I started thinking about my sermon and read the collect again, I realized that I must not have read the whole prayer through when I chose it earlier.  I must have just read that first line and stopped.  Because the second line really surprised me.  “Grant that we, who have known the mystery of that Light on earth may also enjoy him perfectly in heaven; where with you and the Holy Spirit he lives and reigns, one God, in glory everlasting.”  And it’s not that I don’t like the second line, it’s not that it isn’t a perfectly good prayer.  But I think it misses the point of Christmas in a huge way.  Christmas isn’t about happily ever after in heaven.   Christmas is about right now.  God with us in the muckiness and the mess of the present moment. 

            A few hours ago in here we had the Christmas pageant for our family service.  It was endearing and beautiful, as always.  How could it not be with all those sweet kids in angel and sheep costumes?  All those proud parents watching their little darlings?  Sometimes biblical purists will point out the ways the usual pageant gets the story wrong.  The pieces of the different Gospel stories get mixed together, the birth looks awfully easy, the magi show up way too early in the story, and who decided there were 3 of them anyway?  But there is something about the very nature of the volunteer-directed, kid-run pageant that represents so perfectly the story of God with us. 

            First of all, every year the pageant is done a little differently.  I remember a few years ago when the manger was transformed into an animal shelter and Herod was a gangster.  In another church it’s entirely possible that might have been horrifying, but here at St. Aidan’s it was an opportunity for us to think about where the excluded and forgotten creatures might live in our day, where we can help the light of Christ can shine today.  Our wonderful youth leaders give the kids a lot of freedom to create the pageant each year in their own original ways.  It’s a reminder that the Christmas story is never over and done, set for all time.  It’s on-going, continuing, taking on new meaning, encouraging us to continue to flesh out the good news of this old story for ourselves.

            Second, as is pretty much always true for pageants, there’s always some piece that doesn’t work as expected.  A few years ago the cord of the star got caught under a chair and it took some audience participation for the light to continue moving toward the manger.  Last year we had one sheep and 6 or 7 shepherds.  Some years costumes are lost or an actor doesn’t show up at the last minute and improvisation is necessary.  But no matter what leads up to the moment, baby Jesus always shows up in the manger.  Even when things don’t go as planned, God arrives. 

            Third, there is a role for everyone in the Christmas pageant.  The kids who haven’t ever gone to Sunday school.  The kids that are new to church.  The kids that can’t sit still.  The kid that insists on dressing as a flamingo.  The kids that don’t want to get out in front but can carry the star.  If you show up and want to be part of the pageant you will be.   There is room for everyone in the love and welcome of God.

I think these things are easier to believe on Christmas Eve.  On this dark night, somehow it’s just a little easier to see the light of God shining around us.  It’s a little easier to see how that light reflects off each of our faces.  But I think part of the point of Christmas is that it doesn’t just happen on Christmas Eve, and it doesn’t just happen when we’re looking for it or ready for it.  God surprised a poor, young, unmarried girl by choosing her to bear the holy child.  The first people chosen to share the good news weren’t holy people who had withdrawn from the world to seek God, but unwashed shepherds going about their daily drudgery.  Among the first and most adoring visitors were foreigners -- gentiles.  On Christmas, God came in the midst of humanity.  The continuing great joy of Christmas is that God comes in the midst of us still, longing to be part of our unfolding daily lives, inviting all of us into the story.

            As we were driving home from our pre-Christmas gathering in Charlottesville, Maya sat with her glowing ladybug on her lap, stars shining on the ceiling of our car.  Suddenly she looked outside into the night and saw the real stars shining above as we passed through a dark stretch of road.  “There’s the wild star!” she shouted, “Look - We can follow it to Jesus!”  And I think she had the right idea.  In whatever darkness we find ourselves, on this or any night, we can look for a glimmer of that bright, holy light and follow it to Jesus.  Amen.