Sermon preached Christmas Eve, 2012
Episcopal Church of the Incarnation
Santa Rosa, CA
Many of us are familiar, I’m sure, with the
beautiful story of Silent Night – about how, on Christmas Eve, 1914, in the first
winter of World War I, some German soldiers began singing their version of
Silent Night, Stille Nacht, and about
how the British soldiers, not a hundred yards away, joined in on the singing,
and pretty soon British and German soldiers, who just a few hours earlier had
been shooting at each other, were belting out Christmas carols together.
And you have perhaps heard, then, how, as their
courage was made strong by their singing, they began to climb out of their
trenches and calling out to the other side, “Don’t shoot! We won’t shoot
either!” and pretty soon soldiers from both sides were meeting in the middle of
no man’s land, shaking hands, exchanging souvenirs and delicacies like Bavarian
ham and English cigarettes. Pretty soon
someone brought out a soccer ball, and within moments a hilarious soccer game
was under way
One British private, serving in the 2nd
Queens Regiment, wrote home about his experience: “It was a beautiful moonlit night, frost on
the ground, white almost everywhere; and about 7 or 8 in the evening there was
a lot of commotion in the German trenches and there were these lights -I don't
know what they were. And then they sang "Silent Night" - "Stille
Nacht." I shall never forget it, it was one of the highlights of my life.
I thought, what a beautiful tune.”
It’s a beautiful story, made even more beautiful
by the fact that it is true, and well-documented by letters sent home from the
front.
What is slightly
less well known is how this was not just a single incident involving just a few
dozen men. According to the New York
Times, over 100,000 soldiers participated in these spontaneous outbursts of peace
on that day, stretching all along the front.
In one case, it was “Silent Night” that inspired the truce; in another,
it was “O Come All Ye Faithful” – the Germans replied with the Latin version –
Adeste Fidelis.
Nor is it commonly appreciated, I think, just how
frightening it was for those first few soldiers as they stepped out of the
protection of their trenches. One German
Captain wrote about this in a letter home: “I shouted to our enemies that we didn't wish
to shoot and that we make a Christmas truce. I said I would come from my side
and we could speak with each other. First there was silence, then I shouted
once more, invited them, and the British shouted `No shooting!’ Then a man came
out of the trenches and I on my side did the same and so we came together and
we shook hands - a bit cautiously!”
Nor do we hear much about how enraged the generals
became when they heard about this. The
commander for the British troops, Gen. Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien, wrote, “I have
issued the strictest orders that on no account is [this fraternizing] to be
allowed between the opposing troops. To finish this war quickly, we must keep
up the fighting spirit and do all we can to discourage friendly [exchange].”
Apparently it never occurred to the general that
perhaps the war might be finished more quickly, and more honorably, if the
soldiers were allowed to follow their more natural inclination, which was to
exchange gifts rather than bullets.
The famous Christmas Truce of 1914 has become something
of a real-life endorsement of that famous bumper sticker, “What if they gave a
war and nobody came?”
Or, in the words of the prophet Isaiah, “Nation
will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore…”
By the time Christmas Eve rolled around a year
later, the generals were ready; they made sure no more spontaneous outbreaks of
the Christmas Spirit would be tolerated.
They threatened the front line officers with courts-martial, rotated
troops to keep them on the move, and ordered artillery barrages to prevent
anyone from raising their heads above the trenches. Nonetheless,
it is known that a few artillery companies intentionally aimed their cannons
away from the troops, making it possible for a few gift exchanges and
spontaneous soccer games to break out.
By the time the third Christmas of the war came
around, each side was so exhausted and dispirited by the war, and so thoroughly
convinced of the inhumanity of the other side, that there was little danger of further
Christmas truces.
But one wonders: what if they had been able to
sing Silent Night every day, and not just on Christmas Eve? What if all the generals had been unable to stop
the singing of Silent Night? What if
Silent Night had been ringing in every soldier’s heart, not just that one night,
but every night of the war?
The other day a friend of mine prevailed upon me
to sit through a Lord of the Rings Marathon; and I have to say it was time well
spent – a spiritual experience, really.
One especially striking scene was near the end. Frodo and Sam are trying, with their very
last ounce of strength, to get through Mordor and to Mount Doom, where Frodo
will try to drop the Ring into the pit where it will be destroyed. But they are absolutely exhausted; Frodo is
fitfully sleeping and whimpering and shivering from the cold and exhaustion;
that’s when Sam sees a break in the clouds – it’s the first sign of light since
they entered the evil country. A couple
of stars twinkle as the clouds break, and Sam says, “Mr. Frodo! Look!
There is light! Beauty up there –
that no shadow can touch.”
It made me think of the times in my own life when I
felt lost, and at the end of my rope, and beyond saving, only to see a star, or
a sunrise, or the smile of a friend, or a simple gesture of kindness – and that’s
all I’ve needed to find the strength to carry on.
It makes me think, on this dark and cold light, of
the star that hung over Bethlehem, and of the stars that shined over that
battlefield nearly a hundred years ago, giving those wretched soldiers the
courage to speak words of peace and of love.
It reminds me to keep an eye out for that star,
each day – for in the midst of darkness and grief, there is light. A light to enlighten the nations. The Prince of Peace.
A member of our congregation has a daughter who
teaches school in New Town, Connecticut – thank God, a different school than
the one that was attacked so terribly last week. A few days ago she wrote to her mother and her
friends about what it’s been like. After
describing poignant scenes of grief and unspeakable loss, she says, There is “good
that’s come out of this…, [in] the outpouring of love felt by people
worldwide. Comfort items like blankets,
quilts, stuffed animals, and books have been pouring in at a rate that has
overwhelmed those coordinating. People
are sending and want to send money, not only to help the families directly
affected, but also the people in town.
There have been accounts of people calling from across the country to
give their credit card numbers to our little General Store, with instructions
to pay for every cup of coffee purchased and other gestures like that. Flowers, wreaths, candles and even 26
Christmas trees have been sent and placed at memorial gathering places. The love and grief of the world has been
felt. I can’t describe the sheer numbers
of people who have come from places near and far to care for our townspeople. The resources are amazing and they all seem
to know just how to help and what to do – especially as we felt paralyzed the
first few days….”
Events like this remind us that for every sick
murderous psychopath bent on destruction, there is an army of good soldiers
singing “Silent Night” – the world is full of so many more people willing to
sacrifice and work hard for the good of all, so as to completely overwhelm and
outnumber the few who seek to do harm. When
we know how to be helpful, we help.
Silent Night is being sung, every day. The star that gives hope to us all is shining
in the darkness – and the darkness does not overcome it.
Many churches, on the one week anniversary of New
Town, tolled their bells 26 times to honor the 26 children and educators who
were killed. But at the National
Cathedral in Washington, DC – which is an Episcopal Church, I’m proud to say –
the bell was tolled 28 times. Because
the killer and his mother were also human beings who deserve our prayers. For as Jesus taught us, what good is it if we
pray only for those who deserve our prayers, or only for those whom we like, or
approve of. That is not God’s way; that
is not the way of the Christ. Jesus came
to this world to set a new standard for love – that we cross the battle lines
of division and enmity; that we climb out of our trenches; that we love our
enemies and pray for those who persecute us.
We who are gathered here tonight follow a god whose
purpose was to simple: to love, without exception; and to meet every person who
would do him harm with an open heart and an invitation to love.
It is this love – this Silent Night kind of love –
to which the world has responded. We are
here tonight because we know that no one is perfectly good, or perfectly evil,
and no one is beyond the reach of God’s love.
Today as I was scanning through Facebook I found
this post by a member of our congregation:
"On Friday, I stopped at a local Santa Rosa
restaurant to have lunch while doing some misc. Christmas shopping. When I
tried to pay for my lunch, I was told that a person at another table had paid
for my lunch. She had already left, but it was apparently a regular customer
for years who picks someone at random each year and buys their meal. So...
feeling like I wanted to extend the Christmas spirit, later in the day, I paid
for a few people behind me at the Starbuck's drive-up. The woman at the window
told me there were many gestures of this type during the Christmas season and
she gave me a coupon for a free beverage. Today, I drove through to use my free
coupon but was told the person in front of me had bought my latte for me. So...
I used the coupon to pay for the person behind me.............”
Seems like this Silent Night love is breaking out
all over the place. It seems like you
can’t even buy a cup of coffee in this world without someone buying it for
you! That’s a Silent Night kind of
love. Would that it were being sung
every day. Maybe, if we choose, it could
be. Maybe, if we make this our prayer;
maybe, if we hold hands and open our hearts and look for the star that is
beyond all shadow, we will find the strength within ourselves to be messengers
of that love.
Maybe, if
we believe it can be so, we, too, can be bearers of that light and that
love. That’s what this church believes
is true. May it be true for you, this
Christmas night, and for all the nights that await us. Because good hearts, open to the light of
Christ, can work miracles.
May it be so.
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment