December 24, 2022 - Christmas Eve
Recorded Worship on YouTube - 4:30 Service
Recorded Worship on YouTube - 10pm Service
Mark 1:18-25
Deborah Laforet
The Magic of Christmas
Let us pray. May the words from my lips and the meditations of my heart be guided by your Spirit and be words of wisdom for this day. Amen.
As a young girl, I always found magic in Christmas. At the time, it really had nothing to do with church or the story of Jesus’ birth. It was about the lights, the songs, the parties, the gifts, and the stories in media filled with miracles.
I remember from the time I was nine or ten, I used to stay awake late on Christmas Eve. At that time, my family lived in a trailer that sat next to a two car garage; and the trailer and the garage were connected by, what we called, a breezeway. It was kind of an uninsulated structure that was used to get to and from the house and garage without worrying about the weather. One of the windows of my bedroom looked out into the breezeway, and because I was on the top bed of a bunk bed, I didn’t even have to get up to look out the window. On Christmas Eve, I would watch as my mom walked back and forth between our home and the garage, through that breezeway, carrying boxes, bags, and packages. Then, after all was quiet and dark, I would climb out of bed, tiptoe out to the living room with a blanket wrapped around me, and sit in front of the tree and stare at the coloured lights and fantasize what might be in those wrapped boxes under the tree. I’d wonder if I got what I wanted. I would look at the names on the gifts of my siblings and guess what might be in them. Eventually I would go back to bed and still be up pretty early the next morning. It’s funny, but I don’t really remember Christmas morning or opening presents, but I do remember the excitement and anticipation of the night before.
It wasn’t until I got older that the magic of Christmas included church. I began to appreciate soloists and choirs, candlelight, and a special energy that people brought to that night. I especially began to appreciate the late service, the hushness of the night, and, sometimes, although it’s more rare lately, the falling snow.
Somebody reminded me recently how devastated I was last year at this time. It was the Tuesday before our pageant and the board decided that worship would go back online. It wasn’t long after that the province also enforced restrictions, including US-Canada border restrictions. It meant that for the second year in a row, I would be at home alone, in my living room, live-streaming the Christmas Eve services. It also meant that I would have to cancel plans with my family in Michigan, who I hadn’t seen in person in almost two years. The night was still magical, thanks to the many people who sent in videos and worked hard to make those Christmas Eve services special, but it was still difficult, for many of us, and I carried a lot of grief last year. It’s no wonder I had forgotten about it.
At this time of year, sometimes we forget hardships, or at least, try to forget them. We tuck them away and concentrate on merriment and joyful festivities. We eat lots, sometimes drink too much, turn the lights up bright and the music on loud, watch Christmas shows of dreams coming true, of Santa and reindeer, the North Pole and elves, and we block out the hurt in the world, in our own selves.
We sometimes even use the Christmas story in this same way. With nostalgia and rose-coloured glasses, we sing of shepherds and angels, stars and magi, a saviour born in a manger, and peace on earth and goodwill to all.
We wonder at the miracle of a woman impregnated by the Holy Spirit but skip over the fact that a young women, pregnant outside of marriage, would have been at danger of being killed, or at least ostracized from her community. At that time, in Rome, there were stories of women being impregnated by gods and the fantastic stories of their children, but this was a poor woman in a small Jewish village. Mary and her soon-to-be husband would have both been scorned and their son would have had this mark on him his whole life. People in small communities do not forget. In Matthew’s story, we are told that Mary, Joseph, and their child had to flee Bethlehem because King Herod had planned on killing all young male children because of a prophecy. This story connects Jesus to Moses who was also rescued from a king who killed male infants. Maybe though, Mary and Joseph moved from Bethlehem to Nazareth to escape persecution from their own small village.
Although we tend to see the story of this holy family as foreign, ancient, and unrelated to our current world, these stories can still be told today. People who attempt to live outside of the society’s standards still find it difficult. Young women who have sex before they are married or who become pregnant outside of marriage are still ostracized and shunned. People who love people of the same gender or those identifying other than the gender they were labelled with at birth are despised and condemned. Families still flee from violent dictators, and empires occupy stolen lands and attempt genocide of indigenous peoples. People still have to pursue basic human rights, like health, safety, and shelter, and are constantly denied.
When we see the story in this way, without our rose-coloured glasses, where is the magic? Where is the hope, peace, joy, and love that we celebrate on this night?
It’s not in the gifts. In my home, it is bare under our tree this year. Our young adult children needed money more than gifts this year. We bought some stocking stuffers, but we decided this year would be more about our time spent together.
We are still living in a time of pandemic and frequent illnesses. There is still a chance of shutdowns, still worry when loved ones come down with COVID, and some of us are still being extra cautious with masking and distancing.
We know people around the world are experiencing war, natural disasters, poverty, mental illnesses, ecological crises, and much more, and we feel overwhelmed and at a loss at so much devastation in our lives and in our world.
Now all this being said, beyond all of this suffering and injustice, there is magic, and I don't mean hocus-pocus kind of magic or the kind where we get exactly what we most wanted for Christmas. I mean the kinds that brings us awe and wonder, deep feelings of connection and love. The kind of magic we experience by families coming together, and sometimes this means chosen families. The kind of magic we experience in the tears that fill our eyes at hearing a beautiful song. The kind of magic we experience when we remember wonderful memories spent with loved ones we have lost. The kind of magic we see in the face of a child who has experienced their own magic, whether it be seeing Santa Claus, opening a gift, or watching the falling snow. The kind of magic we see in the giving that is so prevalent during this time of year.
The angels remind us of this magic. They tell the shepherds, “Do not be afraid, for see, I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: 11 to you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is the Messiah, the Lord. 12 This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” 13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, 14 “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom God favours!” Magic.
The gift of a child. The unopened package that a newborn is to the world, the promise and the wonder of what might be. We find this in every child, in every one of us, but on this night, we remember the gift of Christ child, the gift of this new life, who grew up to help the world find hope, peace, joy, and love, a gift, that still today, we are unwrapping. Magic.
Two thousand years later, we still find the magic in this story. We read of a woman who held such hope for the world and in the baby she would birth. We read of a man who broke tradition and married this young, pregnant woman. We read of shepherds and magi who visited this baby and confirmed to that child’s parents and to the world the specialness of this child. We read of this holy family finding refuge and safety in a foreign country and their eventual safe return. Two thousand years later and we still find magic in this story.
And hopefully, we also find magic in our own lives and in this world. The magic in a land of cyclical seasons, life, death, and rebirth. The magic of people who try and strive, even when all seems lost. The magic of peace, the peace that passes all understanding, when people are safe, valued, and loved, and can follow their passions and be honest and open about they are. The magic of compassion and understanding between people who are different, people who have been enemies, people who long to put an end to violent conflict. The magic in a world filled with lights, and candles, and giving, and singing, and sharing. Really, what more could we want for Christmas?
As we celebrate the birth of a child in a manger, may we also celebrate the birth of hope, peace, joy, and love into our world, into our community, into our own hearts. May we all experience the magic that comes with being vulnerable, opening our hearts, giving of ourselves, and being open to possibilities. May God’s love surround you, may Christ be your guide, and may the Spirit give you glimpses of magic, all year round. May it be so and thanks be to God. Amen.