Christmas Eve Service 2020

Gourock St. John’s
Christmas Eve 2020
Service prepared by The Rev. Teri Peterson
email: tpeterson (at) churchofscotland (dot) org (dot) uk

~~~~~Transcript:

Organ Prelude: Christmas Night Pastorale, by Corelli

Hymn #294: On Christmas Night All Christians Sing

Welcome

Fischy’s 2020 Christmas song: Even in the Strangest Times

Lighting the Christ Candle
One: For the anxious new parents and the creatures of instinct,
All: the light shines.
One: For the onlooker and the message-bearer,
All: the light shines.
One: For those at work and those working at home,
All: the light shines.
One: For the traveller and the host,
All: the light shines.
One: Far from the centre of power,
regardless of the plans of the authorities,
in the midst of everyday life,
with ordinary people,
All: the word became flesh and lived among us.
~Christ Candle is lit~

Hymn #315: Once in Royal David’s City (virtual choir video)

Reading: Luke 2.1-7 (Alan & Helen)
In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

Reflection
You may have heard me talk before about the layout of an average family’s house in ancient Palestine — how the ground floor had two sections, the front section was at street level, and the back section raised a few feet up, and then there might be an upper room, either built in or as a loft or even as a sort of shack on the roof. The street level at the front was where animals were kept. The raised bit at the back of the ground floor was where the family lived, with perhaps a table and some stools, maybe a fire at the back, and sometimes a straw mattress on the floor, or sometimes just wool blankets. At the very front of this platform, were little indentations that could hold animal feed, so that animals could eat at head-level. And then the upper room was for guests.

That upper room was already full when Mary and Joseph arrived in Bethlehem — which means there were likely already half a dozen people up there sharing straw mattresses and blankets on the floor. Now of course there would have been a lot of people traveling for the census, but it was still absolutely unthinkable to turn someone away — offering hospitality and caring for guests was the most important duty in the ancient world. But there was no space in the upper room, and the family was crammed into the back half of the ground floor…so the only available space was down front, with the animals.

Keeping animals in the ground floor of the house meant their body heat could help keep the house warm in winter. It would also keep them safe, as animals were likely any family’s most expensive possessions, since they could provide wool and milk, perhaps eggs, or even meat — for the family and for trade. It was risky to have travellers bedding down amidst their literal livelihoods, but it was also the only option.

So often we picture Jesus being born out in a field surrounded only by freshly-bathed animals and silent snowfall. But far more powerful is the truth of the story: that he was born right in the middle of everything, surrounded by people who had to figure out how to make it work with what they had. It wasn’t particularly clean, it wasn’t quiet, it wasn’t solitary….but it was still beautiful.

Yes, of course the Son of God being born is beautiful, as any baby is. But just as beautiful is the real picture that never quite fits into a Christmas carol: the picture of people putting their own comfort at the bottom of the priority list, in order to make room for others in need. The picture of young and old, family and guest and animal, unable to sleep through Mary’s shouts and cries and the unsettled animals, gathering around to encourage and support a mother in labour, to swaddle an infant and lay him in the safest place—the indentation that served as a food trough, where he can’t roll off the edge or get stepped on—and to celebrate the safe delivery, which was by no means guaranteed in those days, or now. The picture of a new family, unconventional and non-traditional in many ways. The picture of people who didn’t just say no because they didn’t have the perfect answer, but who instead took a risk and found that their last available floor space was now occupied by the baby who would change the world.

There was no room for guests…but that’s ok, because Jesus didn’t come to be a guest, separate from us. He was born in the middle of the mess and mystery of life, and that was made possible by people who put others first, who prioritised hospitality and compassion more than their own comfort and security, who were willing to figure out how to help even when the obvious answer was no.

It doesn’t make a pretty Christmas card or a lilting carol, but it does give us something to live by, every day of the year.

Music: O Holy Night (BSL video)

Reading: Luke 2.8-14 (Reids)
In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to 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 Saviour, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.’ 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 he favours!’

Reflection
I saw a music video recently in which this part of the story involved an angel basically herding the shepherds out of the fields toward the town. It made me laugh, which was not the point of the video! but also made me think about what that night might have been like. The shepherds were terrified, just as the disciples will be later when the glory of the Lord shines around at the Transfiguration, just as the ancient Israelites were terrified at Mount Sinai when the glory of the Lord shone from Moses’ face. To come that close to God’s glory is to be able to see things perhaps you’d rather be able to ignore.

So maybe the angel herded the shepherds, who were used to doing the herding themselves. Or maybe the shepherds ran away in fear and had to be corralled back together to hear the good news. Eventually, though, the whole host of heaven — like all the stars in the sky — can hold back no more, and they burst into song.

While today in covid-times that would be more than enough cause for us to take many large steps backward, in that moment it must have been a wonder to behold. To see all God’s messengers, the great cloud of witnesses, the stars themselves, singing praise.

I wonder what style of music they chose? Were they classical types, sounding like Handel’s Messiah? Or more like a praise band? Or perhaps like a school show, or like a church congregation, everyone making a joyful noise and sometimes even singing in tune, even if they can’t quite all clap together.

I like to imagine that the choir of angels singing actually sounds like something we could join in with. Not too perfect, because then it’s intimidating to try. Not so off-key that you can’t pick out the melody. Somewhere in between, it’s just right: the sweet spot where all of us can sing of God’s glory and share the good news, in a way that sends others running to see the amazing things God has done.
Music: Gesu Bambino by Pietro Yon

Reading: Luke 2.15-20 (Bolsters)
When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, ‘Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.’ So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.

Reflection
Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.

She must have been exhausted, between travel, and labour, and the first hours of motherhood. There would be more tired days ahead, too, with midnight feeding and inexplicable crying and trying to toddler-proof a first century house. Even the Son of God would still have his moments, surely, and his parents would likely have an experience very similar to any other parent — what one of my friends describes as “the days are long but the years are short.”

Many parents want to hold onto these moments, these memories, forever, but then the days are so long with sleep deprivation and worry and threenager battles…and the years so short, you blink and they’re grown. Yet here at the very beginning, Mary does what any mother does: treasures the moment, holds onto it, and hopes for time later to think it all over and figure out what it means.

Strangers had praised him and repeated the words of angels into his ears. Songs of God’s glory were still echoing around. Everyone was amazed. And Mary — prophet who sang of God’s kingdom overturning the powers of this world, teenager who said yes to God, mother of the Messiah…she treasured, and pondered.

What might it look like for us to join Mary in letting the word sink into our hearts, to let it become such a part of us we aren’t sure where we end and the word begins? To treasure it, and hold on to it for dear life through all the ups and downs that are coming? To find that all that pondering of the word changes how we speak and respond and act?

As we receive the gift of the Word Made Flesh this night, may we be transformed by holding this treasure. Amen.

Music: Adam lay ybounden

Prayer
Holy God,
we give you thanks for coming among us once again,
revealing your love for your world,
calling us into new life by bringing your kingdom to earth in a baby.
Your presence shines with glory,
even as your fullness dwells in fragile flesh —
not in the official structures,
but in borrowed homes and among working people,
in an occupied land and a troubled time.
We give you thanks that
as you walked in the garden,
as you led your people,
as you spoke with your prophets,
you meet us here again, tonight.
Whether we are prepared, or not;
whether it feels familiar or strange;
whether we are in the appointed place or out in the fields;
even now you break open the barrier between heaven and earth.
We expected you, O God,
yet still your coming surprises us.
When you break through,
pushing your way into our lives when we aren’t quite ready,
all we can do is give you our full attention.
Like a baby we can’t take our eyes off of,
we look to you in wonder, in awe, and a little bit of fear.
What will you be like?
How will you change us?
How can we do our best for you?
Yet you just reach out and take hold of our hands and our hearts,
offering love beyond measure,
and asking only the same in return.
**~silence…leading to Silent Night (hymn #309)

Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as in heaven.
Give us today our daily bread.
Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.
Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.
For the kingdom, the power, and the glory are yours, now and forever.
Amen.

Olive’s reflection and reading John 1

*Recording of Adeste Fidelis 

Benediction
This holy night, may your eyes shine with the light of the star.
This holy night, may your hands carry the weight of generosity.
This holy night, may your heart sing with the peace of the heavens.
This holy night, may your life reflect glory.
And may the blessing of God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, go with you, this night and always. Amen.

*Organ postlude: Ding Dong Merrily by P. Wedgewood / arr. P Norris