We speak a lot about “Peace on earth” at this time of year, in the midst of the Christmas season. We may still be getting in the mail cards that say, “Peace and Joy!”. Yet, we are only four days into the twelve days of Christmas, and on this day we hear about one of the most horrific accounts in scripture, a story that sadly is replayed over and over again throughout human history. On this day, the church remembers as “The Slaughter of the Holy Innocents” and what the gospel writer Matthew records with just a few words:

16 When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the magi, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the magi.  17 Then what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah was fulfilled:
18 “A voice was heard in Ramah,
wailing and loud lamentation,
Rachel weeping for her children;
she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.”

We call this day “The Feast of the Holy Innocents.” Maybe you’ve never heard of it. We all, most likely, would like to just forget that something like this ever happened.

The church remembers the numbers differently: the Greek liturgy asserts there were 14,000 Holy Innocents, while an early Syrian list of saints asserts 64,000. Egyptian Christian sources assert there were 144,000. History, however, deems that Bethlehem was too small a town to provide such numbers; under 1000 residents would have lived in Bethlehem at the time of Jesus’ birth. Most likely there were between six and twenty male children in the town, with a dozen or so more in the surrounding areas. Whether 100,000 or 10, this is irrelevant; death of children at the hands of political and military authorities is always a horror. Herod was no stranger to cruelty and horror. He had three of his own sons executed because he feared they were plotting against him. This happened just about the time of Jesus’ birth. The man was jealous of power, dealing barbarically with all who threatened his hold on his crown. Herod was a bad king.

Earlier this year, I met a man named Robert Mindelzun. He was born in Poland just a few weeks before the Germans invaded Warsaw in September 1939.  As the Nazis approached, Robert’s family fled with him as an infant to the east, and even though they experienced horrors under the Soviets, they survived. Robert eventually made it to America as a twelve-year-old, and he and his family made a life for themselves here, his own son going on to become a noted fiction writer. Robert was lucky, I guess we could say. Over a million other Jewish children were slaughtered by the Nazis and their allies. I say, “Robert was lucky,” because it’s hard to say, “God watched over and blessed Robert.” Was God not with those other children? Did God not desire those other children to survive the war? How we answer this takes us back to Bethlehem.

Matthew records that an angel came to Joseph and warned him to take the baby Jesus and Mary to Egypt, because Herod was seeking to kill the boy who one day would be called, “King of the Jews.” Jesus wasn’t “lucky” to escape Herod. God made it possible for the Holy Family to survive. That’s how we tell the story. God had a purpose for Jesus’ life, even though Jesus would eventually die at the hands of the same dynastic Herodian family.

Yet, ever since I was a child, I have wondered, “Why didn’t God save those other children? Weren’t they ‘precious in his sight,’ as we sing in Sunday School?” Didn’t God love those little ones? Doesn’t God love the children of Ukraine? Doesn’t God love the children of Ethiopia? Of Yemen? Of Afghanistan? Of Myanmar? Of Mexico? Of the US? Is God sending angels into fathers’ dreams to warn them? God, I hope so.

On the fourth Sunday in Advent, we experienced the children of Pinnacle portraying a sweet retelling of the Christmas story. It happens every year, but this year, I was touched when all the children gathered around the baby Jesus: Mary, Joseph, shepherds, camels, angels, wisemen, and townspeople. Tears came to my eyes, as I remembered how precious life is, seeing these rag-tag assemblage of children, telling a very adult story: God’s saving act in the birth of Jesus. God became so vulnerable! Very soon after this pacific gathering, violence would erupt into the lives of Bethlehemites. Weeping would be heard in Ramah, calling out to God, “Where are you?”

We take this day to remember the lives of the millions of innocents throughout history who lost their lives too soon. We look to God for comfort in our grief, even as we wonder if God really cares.

Scripture assures us that God knows if even one sparrow falls from the sky. God knows and God cares about each of us, God’s own creation. And God calls us to pray for all those in harm’s way and to play our part in making the world safer for those whom he calls holy and innocent. Most likely violence will erupt during our Christmas season. Ever has it been so. Pray to the God who restores all things, that it be otherwise. And may God's mercy, love, peace, hope and joy surprise us when we least expect it. Amen.

My wife Lynne is an amateur photographer. She loves it. When I’m watching her compose a shot I sometimes comment on the thing I think she’s taking a picture of. I often ask why she chose that. And often she says, “I didn’t. I’m not taking a picture of the thing. I’m taking a picture of light.” She sees how light dances and illumines, reflects and refracts, and reveals things in new, well . . . light. And later, when I see the photo, I see what she means. She sees things by light moving at, on, around, and sometimes through them. And so, it’s not the thing she’s picturing.  It’s the light. On this Christmas Day, may you see God in that way.  Light. May you see more of the Light of God shining at, on, around, and through. Like Rembrandt’s paintings of the Nativity, with the baby in the manger as the only source of light in the space, may you see life illumined by Christ. May Light save you from the fear of night. May Light save you from losing your way. May Light reveal the texture of God for you. 

- adapted from Hark, the Herald Angels Sing, an Advent Devotional published by Pinnacle Presbyterian Church, p. 36.

So opens the beloved Christmas poem by Clement Park Moore. These are arguably some of the best-known verses ever written by an American. Moore’s poem is largely responsible for our modern American conception of Santa Claus.

Maybe for you, this is a reflection of what life has felt like this season. If so, please see me– I need to know how. But for me, it sounds like a Type-A person’s fantasy land. “Not a creature was stirring,” “the stockings hung by the chimney with care,” and all the children “nestled snug in their beds.” Even the parents are calm, collected, and cozy. I mean, come on! 

Where’s the mad dashing about to finish Christmas shopping or the cold sweats as you wait for your Amazon package to be delivered (they said it would be here by now!)? Where’s the tape all over the table and the tinsel strewn all over the floor? Or the children who don’t want to go to bed because, instead of dreaming about sugar plums (whatever those are), they already ate too many of them—or cookies, or whatever! 

If this weren’t a nearly 200-year-old holiday fixture, I’d accuse Moore of using too many filters. It’s like a social media account, only showing the good stuff. Sweep the chaos and crazy under the rug; company is coming! Seriously, it’s not very realistic, is it? At least not for me. Christmas snuck up on me. I had the best intentions for Christmas this year, especially since it’s our first Christmas in our first home. But the reality is, I am not ready for Christmas. Are you?

Hectic schedules, distracting details, fighting across the political aisle, a litany of people I know facing significant challenges to health or wholeness or happiness—it’s a rather contrasting background to set against the refrains of joy and gladness. It’s no wonder we might feel unprepared for Christmas this year. But you know what? The first Christmas ever came to a world that was simply not ready. 

Mary and Joseph were guests in a town not their own when baby Jesus made his debut. They had no delivery room or decorated nursery. No friends or family surrounding them. The shepherds, out in the field at work, weren’t even looking for Christmas. But Christmas still came. 

That’s the great news of Christmas—it is an act of God. It’s not about us being prepared or being good enough. It’s not about being sinless, perfect, or ready. It’s not about being anything other than who you are right now. Because the gift of Emmanuel is God with us. God coming to our world simply because God loves us. 

God says, “Ready or not, here I come!” God comes to us when we are feeling unprepared, out of our element, far from home, or fearful of what’s to come. God comes to us at work, in the busy-ness and the routine of our days. God comes to us when we are not ready for God and when we aren’t even expecting God to show up. Why? Simply because God loves us. 

So maybe instead of dashing about–we just simply bask in God’s presence and the good news of great joy–that a baby is born! His name is Jesus. And he is the Light of the World!

Do you feel it? The weight of an ever-increasing to-do list and a schedule full of events. A looming rent payment and Christmas gifts to pay for. Groceries to buy. Casseroles to make for the office holiday party. Bins full of Christmas decor taunt you, eagerly waiting to be displayed, every time you open up the closet door. Do you ever ask yourself, how does Jesus' birth fit into all of this? 

“Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” - Matthew 11:28-30

In 2006, three pastors who wanted to approach advent differently created something new. They call it the Advent Conspiracy movement. They devised four tenets to guide themselves and their congregations through Advent. The four tenets are - Worship Fully, Spend Less, Give More, and Love All. Feeling overwhelmed by this season, I breathed a sigh of relief when I read this. I make this season more than it needs to be. Although there is much joy and fun to be had in the secular traditions that fill our schedules this time of year, I find myself becoming more stressed and exhausted because of them. As we continue in this advent season, may we too worship more fully, spend less, give more, and love all. I pray that you will experience joy and wonder as we eagerly anticipate the incarnation celebration that is to come! O Come, O Come, Emanuel. 

Many blessings to you and your family this Advent season. 

You might have heard a somewhat romanticized story behind the creation of one of the most beloved carols "Silent Night." Initially many thought the carol was written by Haydn, Mozart, or Beethoven. After this statement was disproved, the story goes that "Silent Night" was created on short notice on Christmas Eve in a small Austrian parish in the early 19th century. With pipe organ bellows eaten by mice, only a voice and a guitar could save the Christmas spirit. And so the story of a carol translated to 140 languages, sung in dark, candle-lit sanctuaries every Christmas Eve, helps us keep our sentiments alive. I am the last one who would want to spoil a sentiment, but understanding the process of how music in a church is delivered, I could not resist fact-checking this story. Here's what I found.

The original music and lyrics were a collaboration between two Austrians: a skilled organist and choir director Franz Gruber, and a young assistant priest Joseph Mohr. The parish organ was not playable at the time, which I doubt was a case of mice gnawing at it, but quite a common occurrence of possible poor craftsmanship to start with, or neglect and disrepair in parishes where there was not enough money to maintain such a complicated machine. In fact, we know that the organ was replaced shortly after, in 1825. Knowing that the organ was unreliable, Mohr and Gruber had to come up with another solution. On December 24, 1818, Mohr asked Gruber to come up with music for a six-stanza poem, which Mohr wrote a couple of years earlier. On short notice indeed (which is not that unusual for a church setting) Gruber wrote a simple melody and added chords for a guitar. The same evening both Gruber and Mohr sang it as a duo, with the choir repeating the last line, and Mohr accompanying on the guitar. A perfect example of a brilliant and quick solution to everyday church problems. As Leonard Bernstein famously said, "To achieve great things, two things are needed; a plan, and not quite enough time."

You will read this and other origin stories for all the carols in the printed program of this year's Celebration of Christmas.

And as far as the "story behind" the Celebration of Christmas 2022 itself, allow me to indulge for a moment. Building a program like Celebration of Christmas starts in the summer months - an idea sparks, an image appears, audience feedback from last year surfaces, an outline develops. It's a soup of creativity that boils and congeals over time. By early fall the guest musicians are booked, sheet music purchased and distributed, and the hours of practicing with all the groups involved commence. By the end of November, the printed program is finalized, the pastors, readers, and ushers scheduled, the logistics and support staff roles figured out, and the last instrumental music arrangements written. With extra Saturday rehearsals, a dress rehearsal with all involved a day before the performances, and never enough time, we are more than excited to share this program with you on December 11th at 4 and 7 pm.

What is this year's Celebration of Christmas going to be like and why would you consider bringing your family and friends?

We are focusing on the tradition this year. We will be performing and inviting the audience to participate in singing such beloved carols as First Nowell, Gesù Bambino, O Come All Ye Faithful, Go Tell It on the Mountain, Hark the Herald Angels Sing, and Jingle Bells. With handbells, brass, percussion, keyboards, flute, and expanded choir, we hope you will experience the power of spirit-moving communal singing. You will also get a chance to hear more intimate solos and choral pieces like Away in a Manger, Carol of the Bells, and Silent Night. As happened last year, a small selection of Polish Christmas carols will make the program - this is a sentiment I allow myself to indulge in. Hopefully, some of the music selections will leave you tapping to the jazz and calypso rhythms. We guarantee glorious organ and brass selections, compositions, and arrangements by some of the best-sacred musicians like John Rutter, Dan Forrest, David Willcocks, and Mark Hayes, and perfectly suited readings by Ann Weems, Emmy Arnold, Christina Rossetti, and Evelyn Underhill.

I hope this Advent and Christmas season you will get a chance to dig deeper and discover "stories behind" Christmas, your sentiments and associations with the season, and the Reason why we go to such lengths to do it all.