Peaceful Night, Holy Night

One of the songs we like to sing at Christmas time, especially at Christmas eve candle-light services, is Silent Night.

The three verses traditionally sung in English go

Silent night! Holy night!
All is calm, all is bright.
Round yon virgin, mother and Child.
Holy infant so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace.
Sleep in heavenly peace.

Silent Night! Holy night!
Shepherds quake at the sight,
Glories stream from heaven afar,
Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia;
Christ, the Savior, is born!
Christ, the Savior, is born!

Silent night! Holy night!
Son of God, love's pure light
Radiant beams from thy holy face,
With the dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth!
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth!

At first listen/read, the song appears to be about the peaceful quietness of the holy night when Jesus was born. Yet, if you know anything about a child being born, the appointed time was most likely neither quiet nor peaceful.

You might already know the story of Silent Night’s origin (a poem written by Josef Mohr and put to music by Franz Xaver Gruber in Salzburg, Austria, 1818). You can read a simple account here, but the main point is that its debut did not go as planned. Music for that evening’s Christmas Eve service was meant to be accompanied by the church’s majestic organ, but then the organ stopped working. Working quickly, the duo fashioned a piece that could be performed with a simple guitar and their two voices. And the rest is history.

I find deep Advent meaning in these high intentions brought low. The same way Jesus’ first night as a human was neither silent nor peaceful, Silent Night’s first night was neither majestic nor “successful.” Expectations dashed, but made all the more potent in their apparent weakness.

With the end of verse three, we see a transition. The night is almost over. And now the Day dawns with redeeming grace.

The night Jesus was born was not silent, but I believe it was holy. It was a night set apart for God’s amazing purpose. Indeed, I often wonder if the “silent night” speaks more of Christ’s quiet incarnation into the womb of a virgin. We know that Scripture that Mary was a good one for silent reflection. Luke says, “she treasured all these things in her heart.” How many quiet nights did it take to form her great song of holy revolution and worship she sang when greeting her cousin, Elizabeth?

And Mary said,
“My soul magnifies the Lord,
    and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant.
    For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for he who is mighty has done great things for me,
    and holy is his name.
And his mercy is for those who fear him
    from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
    he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts;
he has brought down the mighty from their thrones
    and exalted those of humble estate;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
    and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
    in remembrance of his mercy,
as he spoke to our fathers,
    to Abraham and to his offspring forever.”
(Luke 1:46-55)

We can only imagine the isolation, fear, and doubt Mary must have experienced after hearing the Angel’ Gabriel’s astonishing promise. And yet, she chose peace, saying, “Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.” (Luke 1:38). 

Author Hannah Brencher writes,

“Silent nights don't happen by accident. We have to forge them. We have to create them in the depths of our souls. Even if the silent nights only last five minutes before the noise appears again, I know they have the power to change absolutely everything about our inner lives.”

We know that when Jesus was grown, he was especially intentional about finding times for solitude and peace. I wonder if he learned that practice from his mother. For I truly believe, after reading Mary’s song, that she trusted the result of all this (the fear, doubt, uncertainty, upheaval, persecution, and death) would be a peace beyond understanding.

One final thought:

Silent night! Holy night!
Son of God, love's pure light
Radiant beams from thy holy face,
With the dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth!
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth!

We sing the third line without blinking an eye, but “radiant beams from thy holy face!”
That’s a lot of holiness. 

In Numbers, priest Aaron blesses the people of God with these words:

"The Lord bless you and keep you;
the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you;
the Lord lift up his countenance[c] upon you and give you peace."
(Numbers 6:24-26)

To have God shine His face on you was a gift of His peace.

In her book, Journey to the Manger, author Paula Gooder reflects on God’s timing with the Annunciation:

“[Gabriel’s words] remind us of God’s presence at key points in His people’s history: intervening, shaping, and saving those He loved. Just as He intervened to give Abraham a son and to provide leaders like Samson and Samuel, so again God was intervening in history to remind the people that the Lord was with them. This time, however, the Lord was with them in a way far more profound than ever before.” (p. 61)

And how did God choose to intervene?
He not only sent His Son to show people the way of peace, but to embody the way of Peace. At His very birth, on that “silent and holy night” Jesus held the power of God’s pure light and peace.

With the heavenly hosts, let us sing, “Alleluia!”

Surpassing the Ordinary

My small group at church is going through the abridged book, What Does it Mean to Fear the Lord? by Michael Reeves. This evening, in the chapter centering on our response to God the Creator, Reeves writes,

“. . . the knowledge of God as a humble, gracious, and compassionate Redeemer beautifies the sight of his transcendent majesty as Creator” (p. 38).

The main argument of the chapter is that this type of “right” fear of the Lord must include both a fear of God the Creator and of God the Redeemer.

At the beginning of Genesis we have God the Creator. Everything He makes He calls good. But it is not long before sin enters the world (through human choice) and God begins to roll out His plan for Redemption. Each foreshadowing, each step closer to Christ expands our view of God’s intricate artistry—His weaving together of time and space, people and promise, sorrow and courage, miracle and mundane.

Until we find ourselves at Advent, re-reading the story of the Nativity, and wondering at the Mind that metered out just the right rhythm for the birth of His redeeming grace.

At the heart of Advent is this “beautifying” sense of wonder. With modern holiday lens, we call the quaint stable, the loyal shepherds, the meek and mild virgin girl, the census-swarmed town of Bethlehem all “beautiful.” But at the time, the unfolding story appeared as a crazy plan only thinkable in God’s upside-down economy.

"Transcendent."
Adjective.
Surpassing the ordinary. Outside of common experience or perception.

I don’t know about you, but I am abundantly thankful (especially at Advent) that God is a transcendent Creator and Redeemer. From Christ’s birthplace and parentage to the first lowly visitors, and back through a lineage of unlikely characters, the Lord has been confounding both the mighty and the wise since the beginning of time.

Something deep within Mary recognized this as she sang the Magnificat:
“My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant.
For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for he who is mighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
And his mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts;
he has brought down the mighty from their thrones
and exalted those of humble estate;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
as he spoke to our fathers,
to Abraham and to his offspring forever.”
- Luke 1: 46-55

Before meeting the Angel Gabriel and hearing his message of promise, it’s likely that Mary revered and feared the Lord as Creator. But something miraculous changed within her spirit as she said Yes to God’s plan. Her understanding of God’s character expanded, and He became Redeemer. A God with the power, humility, and compassion to make all things new.

Mary's Strong Song

We call Mary meek and mild. We imagine her serenely sitting astride a donkey or piously cooing over a sleeping Christ child. We imagine her a simple young woman caring for her family’s farm.

But if we look closely at her song, named the Magnificat, she appears as a totally different woman—full of joy and passion and acknowledge of Scripture that seems unexpected for a woman at that time.

"My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for God has looked with favor on the lowliness of the Almighty's servant.
Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is God's name.
God's mercy is for those who fear God
from generation to generation.
God has shown strength with God's arm;
God has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
God has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;
God has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.
God has helped servant Israel,
in remembrance of God's mercy,
according to the promise God made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to his descendants forever."

- Luke 1:46-55, variation on NRSV

It is a bold song. But it is also like the proclamation from the father of the boy with the unclean spirit in Mark 9, who declares, “I believe; help my unbelief!” Hannah Brencher, in her recent Advent essay, calls Mary revolutionary. She quotes Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who likewise refers to the Magnificat at "the most passionate, the wildest, one might even say the most revolutionary hymn ever sung."

I don’t think we often ponder that God chose Mary for more than her betrothal to Joseph, a direct descendant of David. From her song, we can imagine how God chose Mary for her heart—devoted to God, with a “hopeful yet rebel spirit.”

Jesus learned how to be a carpenter like his father Joseph, but oh how much he must have learned at Mary's knee. In a different lifetime she could have been a brilliant and compassionate teacher, equipping and advocating for her students across many decades. But instead, she was chosen to be mother to the Messiah; the first teacher of the son of God.

May we walk forward with this same strong courage and faith.


 

Mary's Heart

Since this past April (when I was graciously given a middle-aged Toyota Camry), I’ve had the privilege of listening to Moody radio on my drives to work. This morning, one of the show hosts pointed out how much she is awe of Mary’s story. There was no glitz and glam; Mary was seemingly hurled into a situation of shame, pain, and loneliness. And yet, she said yes to God. I’m not sure if there was an infinitesimal moment when Gabriel could have said, “Nevermind, Mary, I’ll ask the Lord who else He had in mind,” but if there was, I would have loved to hear what was going on in Mary’s mind.

Maybe it was naïveté. She led a small life, in a small town. How could she possibly know what she was getting herself into. Or maybe it was purely child-like faith. After all, she wasn’t as old as greeting cards and nativity scenes make us believe. Either way, she let God turn her world upside down, for the sake of His magnificent plan. And she didn’t do so resignedly, either. We get a beautiful glimpse of her heart in Luke 1:46-55. Mary’s Song, or the Magnificat, goes like this:

“My soul glorifies the Lord
     and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
   for he has been mindful
    of the humble state of his servant. From now on all generations will call me blessed,
       for the Mighty One has done great things for me—
    holy is his name.
    His mercy extends to those who fear him,
    from generation to generation.
   He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
    he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
   He has brought down rulers from their thrones
    but has lifted up the humble.
    He has filled the hungry with good things
    but has sent the rich away empty.
   He has helped his servant Israel,
    remembering to be merciful
   to Abraham and his descendants forever,
    just as he promised our ancestors.”

I haven’t faced shame, but I have be plunged into seasons of pain, loneliness, and fear (you can read some of my thoughts on my other blog). So I think I understand a little bit of Mary’s situation. I’d like to think I approach these seasons with a small measure of humility and faith, yet there are many days when my response is far from beautiful. What can I learn from Mary?

Way before the annunciation, Jesus’ ancestor David penned these words. They echo the truth that Mary held in her heart:

Behold, the eye of the Lord is on those who fear him,
    on those who hope in his steadfast love,
 that he may deliver their soul from death
    and keep them alive in famine.

 Our soul waits for the Lord;
    he is our help and our shield.
 For our heart is glad in him,
    because we trust in his holy name. Let your steadfast love, O Lord, be upon us,
    even as we hope in you.

- Psalm 33:18-22

 

Hope: Mary's Faith-filled Perception

And Mary said,

“My soul magnifies the Lord,

and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,

for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant.

For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed;

for he who is mighty has done great things for me,

and holy is his name.

And his mercy is for those who fear him

from generation to generation.

He has shown strength with his arm;

he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts;

he has brought down the mighty from their thrones

and exalted those of humble estate;

he has filled the hungry with good things,

and the rich he has sent away empty.

He has helped his servant Israel,

in remembrance of his mercy,

as he spoke to our fathers,

to Abraham and to his offspring forever.”

(Luke 1:46-55)

In evangelical Protestant circles we (used generally here, don’t be offended) try not to put too much focus on Mary, fearing that we might accidentally dive off into an un-biblical adoration of someone who is not God. Yet in doing this, I think we miss the amazing role that Mary played in the Christmas story. She was not miraculous or heroic by any of her own strength, but was chosen by God and empowered by the Holy Spirit to act with humility and obedience. We so often fear calling her holy, yet that is what the Apostle Peter later admonished the early Christians in 1 Peter 1: 15-16, “. . . but as He who called you is holy, you also be holy in all your conduct, since it is written, ‘You shall be holy, for I am holy.’”

John Piper writes about Mary’s song (or the Magnificat) in his current Advent devotional, saying, “Mary sees clearly a most remarkable thing about God: He is about to change the course of all human history; the most important three decades in all of time are about to begin.” 

I love studying history, looking back and seeing how God has moved though time and space to shape the lives of His people. When I read Mary’s song, I am amazed at her perception of God’s moving hand. We know she had supernatural insight about what lay ahead (thanks to the angel Gabriel), yet to respond with such assurance at the very mention of God’s promise (especially after 400 years of silence!) is way more than I would do. At best, when I see tiny glimpses of God’s plans at work around me I feel encouraged and hopeful. It often takes hindsight evidence for me to respond like a psalmist. Yet Mary’s faith was so full that she accepted God's call with humility and grace, and praised His name with hope and expectation. Having hope is one thing; responding rightly to that hope is the hard part. We have so much to learn from a simple young woman living in Nazareth over 2000 year ago!

And be encouraged as you listen to “Mary’s Song” by Ordinary Time:

http://music.ordinarytimemusic.com/track/marys-song

Mary's Song

Have you ever read Mary’s song Luke 1, like really read it? Christendom calls it The Magnificat. It is indeed magnificent—not because of anything a simple young woman in Nazareth did, but everything that the Almighty God did through her.

It is very possible that Mary was not literate, yet her song, so beautifully recorded by Luke, is rich with the themes of Israel’s prophets.

And Mary said:

“My soul glorifies the Lord

     and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has been mindful
    of the humble state of his servant.
From now on all generations will call me blessed,

     for the Mighty One has done great things for me—
    holy is his name.
 His mercy extends to those who fear him,
    from generation to generation.
 He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
    he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
 He has brought down rulers from their thrones
    but has lifted up the humble.

 He has filled the hungry with good things
    but has sent the rich away empty.

 He has helped his servant Israel,
    remembering to be merciful
 to Abraham and his descendants forever,
    even as he said to our fathers.”

(Luke 1: 46-55)

The season of Advent is about waiting. If you read closely through the Gospels, you’ll notice every character in the Christmas story was waiting for something. Zechariah and Elizabeth were waiting for a child. The shepherds were waiting for a break from the doldrums of living and working with sheep. The Magi were waiting to see if the result of their “science” was for real. Simeon and Anna were waiting to see the promised Messiah. Jesus was waiting to fulfill the will of the Father. 

Yet I often have trouble seeing what Mary and Joseph were waiting for. Like the rest of rural Israel, I’m sure they were living in constant hope that the Lord would send some relief from the oppressive Romans. But other than that, it appears as though the God’s plan caught them by surprise. Mary wasn’t pining for a husband. Joseph wasn’t searching for his dream job. They most certainly were not hoping for a baby (not yet, anyways). 

But in her Song, Mary sings, “for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant.” There was definitely something on her heart; something she was waiting on from the Lord. And God knew that. He knew that from the beginning of time; from the moment He hatched the plan to send His Ambassador to Earth. He was mindful of all her human obsessions and failings and quirks—and still, He chose to use her to be the carrier of His Son.

How many times (while we’re waiting and waiting, and waiting some more) do we question our qualifications before God? “He can’t use me,” we say. Or “Why would God ever bless me like that?” We ask. When in reality we all fall short of God’s standards. It is His mercy that He chooses us, broken and leaky vessels, as a part of His plan; His grace that we can sing His praises. 

This is a Peaceful assurance as we light the second Advent candle.