The Nativity of our Lord

December 24, 2008

On October 30, 1991, a northeasterner came up unexpectedly and blew hard across the north Atlantic.  Winds 80 knots per hour and 30 foot waves were reported.  In the hours after the storm, 35 million dollars of debris covered the coastline around the fishing village of Gloucester, Massachusetts.  More devastating than the damage to property was the loss of the Andrea Gail, a 70 foot fishing boat and her crew of 6.  A Coast Guard helicopter rescue team also perished that night.  Six years later, a young writer, Sebastin Junger, immortalized the tragedy in his book, The Perfect Storm.  He settled on this title after talking to a meteorologist on duty when the tempest came up out of the sea.  Apparently, rare conditions converged that night and their combined effect was far more devastating than their separate powers.  Warm air from a low pressure front came in from one direction.  Cool, dry air from a high pressure front blew in from another direction and moist, tropical winds came up from a depression near Barbados.  Negative synergy erupted.  The Perfect Storm was an apt and descriptive title for that disaster.  In 2000, Wolfgang Peterson and George Clooney made a movie of Junger’s account and the phrase became even more popular.  Now ensconced in our vernacular, a “Perfect Storm” refers to any event where unforeseen, unlikely, atypical conditions collide, catching the world off guard and leaving destruction and terror in its wake.

As someone who loves language and appreciates a well-turned phrase, I often wonder about the parallel saying.  What best defines the opposite of a perfect storm?  What catchy words describe unlikely, unforeseen, atypical conditions coming together for perfect good, for superior tranquility and all encompassing peace?  Storm and chaos connote power and action.  Peace and still suggest passivity.  So what are our action words for incomparable harmony?  I haven’t found the perfect phrase, but I know the defining event.  The reverse reality for a perfect storm is the silent night.

Dear friends, that first Christmas in 1AD, all the forces in the universe aligned in an unprecedented order.  The story goes that all elements of nature and human will flowed in perfect harmony.  Every condition, every aspect of that night unfolded at its absolute best.  At no time in the history of the world has this level of perfection been realized before or after that one occurrence.  That night was filled with rarified air.  Let us consider the precision of forces at work.  The phenomenon begins with a young girl about 14 saying “yes” to an unusual request.  It continues with a man agreeing to stand by her and protect the child she carries.  They make their way across desert terrain on an inconvenient, aggravating mission.  That night, the donkey Mary rides is its best donkey self.  He doesn’t balk, he doesn’t stumble.  He doesn’t buck or refuse to move.  That night he carries his burden gently and all the way to the end.  Although nine months pregnant and bouncing up and down on the back of an ass for five days, Mary’s body holds together.  Despite the stress, she does not go into premature labor.  She does not deliver her child on the side of a road in the violent wilds of Judea.  She makes it into the city limits of Bethlehem. 

On the journey, Joseph is the best guide.  He brings enough provisions.  They have enough water.  They have enough food.  He has good directions.  They don’t get lost.  They go directly from Nazareth to Bethlehem without incident.  Once in Bethlehem, Joseph goes to the inn and, despite a booking snafu, the innkeeper is accommodating.  He doesn’t leave the couple on the street.  On this rare night when everything is working together to promote peace and perfection, the innkeeper, a stranger, a fellow human being, takes compassionate action.  He finds a place for the family.  Sheltered from the elements, on a hay bed, in privacy, Joseph delivers his son.  Think about everything that could go wrong and how it doesn’t.  Joseph has no training.  He’s no midwife.  This is Mary’s first child.  The surroundings are less than ideal.  Animals and their effects are a few feet away.  But, the delivery is “normal.”  The baby isn’t backwards.  The chord isn’t wrapped around his neck.  The mother doesn’t suffer uncontrollable bleeding.  The baby boy breathes on his own.  He doesn’t even have cholic!  Everything is fine.  They all get through the ordeal, breathe easy, rest and regroup.  Everything worked for good.  Mary, Joseph, the child were perfect human specimens under adverse conditions.

A few miles away, shepherds are taking care of business.  On this night, they’ve all shown up.  They are not drunk or shiftless despite their general reputation.  This night they are at their best.  This night, unforeseen, unlikely, atypical conditions collide.  A vision appears.  The shepherds experience an angel.  This is a novel event for these men, and they are naturally unsettled.  But, they do not fall apart.  As scared as they are, they hear and follow the stated directions.  They are told to encounter the sign, to find a child wrapped in cloth, lying in a manger, and so they make preparations.  Notice, there is no debate, no protracted arguing who’s going to go, who’s going to stay.  They don’t wrestle one another to the ground to decide.

It’s agreed in a civilized manner.  Some will stay with the sheep, the others will go into town to find the baby.  From the fields to the town to the one stable/cave housing a human family, the shepherds arrived.  They don’t get lost or wander all around.  A way is made.  And after seeing exactly what was predicted, these rough men of the land take the message to the people of the city.

Under usual circumstances, their testimony would have been dismissed.  Shepherds were not taken seriously in that time and the account they’re giving is rather bizarre.  Why would a heavenly host appear to such unreliable witnesses?  What is a heavenly host anyway?  Where do they come from and how many are in a host?  What is a savior doing in a barn?  This is all highly irregular.  On this silent, perfect night, these legitimate questions are put aside.  The angels descend, the shepherds look up, the Bethlehemites accept.  All nature, all human response is perfect.  The universe aligns, the conditions come together so that the sum of the parts are utter and absolute perfection. 

And we really should not be surprised.  Through the years, this has been God’s plan.  He’s told the prophets, he’s whispered to the kingmakers.  He’s sent messengers to credible, serious people through the eons.  God said in unmistakable terms, the day will come.  They day will come when I send the world the Lord.  He will be my own.  He will be like you, but of me.  You will call him Emmanuel – “God with us.”  And at his arrival, the world will change forever.  “God with us,” God in the world present, active, not apart or aloof, will alter human experience.  History will record both his arrival and the world’s subsequent transformation.

God’s plan was clearly articulated, widely communicated, anxiously anticipated.  That dense book, our Holy Scriptures, holds the detailed account of God’s promise and the unfolding of his plan.  So, on the appointed day, when the time was right, of course, all conditions were divinely orchestrated.  All responses would naturally, expectedly be ideal.  “God among us” would only arrive in the most unusual and unanticipated, yet perfect way. 

Following any unprecedented, life-changing, traumatizing event, some considered response is required.  After The Perfect Storm was published, after the movie was released, Sebastin Junger became a wealthy man.  Writing about this devastating ordeal provided him means to continue his love and vocation of writing.  So moved by this turn of fortune, he established the Perfect Storm Foundation where the children of commercial fishermen are given scholarships and opportunities to discover their gifts and talents and to explore the best versions of themselves.  From perfect devastation came this life-giving gift.

To God’s perfect infusion into the world on that first Christmas night, what is to be our response?  To the angels that modulated their voices so not to stupefy the shepherds, to the herdsmen that found their wits and voice to compel the townspeople, to the mother who willed herself to hold the baby safe until the last possible moment, to the father who set all things right, to the baby destined to lead us back to God Almighty, what do we say?  What do we give as our response to the silent night of all perfection?

Earlier we sang Christine Rossestti’s words, “What can I give him, poor as I am?  If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb.  If I were a wise man, I would do my part.  Yet what can I give him – give my heart.”

Dear ones, dear ones, tonight, tomorrow and every day that follows, this is our one acceptable response.  For the perfection accomplished that still night, the only answer that satisfies is making room in our hearts to honor God’s great effort and superior gift.  For all that “Emmanuel” will become, for all Jesus will do for us, for his incredible, extravagant, perfect sacrifice on our behalf, we give simple thanks and a place, a loving place in our hearts.

A perfect response to the perfect phenomenon that is Christmas.

Amen.