On December 24, 1818, the members of The Church of St. Nicholas in Oberndorf, Austria, were facing the prospects of having a very silent night for their Christmas Eve worship service. The organ at that little church was broken, and there was no way to get it fixed for their services that evening. So the priest of that church, Father Josef Mohr, teamed up with a school headmaster by the name of Franz Gruber to compose a hymn that the congregation could sing that night accompanied by the only other musical instrument available to them – a guitar. Father Mohr wrote the words, and Gruber wrote the music. Gruber’s music for this new hymn was reportedly adapted from Austrian folk songs, and Mohr’s lyrics included just three short verses.
But what incredible music! What incredible words! They called their new hymn “Silent Night.” It was sung for the first time on Christmas Eve of 1818 and today – almost 200 years later – Christians throughout the world will sing it again on this Christmas Eve. We who have gathered together on this night at St. Paul Lutheran Church in Pana will sing it on this Christmas Eve as the final hymn of our Christmas Eve service. “Silent Night” is believed by many to be the most beautiful Christmas hymn ever written. And it is, without doubt, the most popular Christmas hymn ever written.
But if you stop to think about it, the lyrics for “Silent Night” seem to get it all wrong. If you stop to think about it, the night that the baby Jesus was born was probably not-so-silent. In fact, it almost certainly was noisy – very, very noisy.
After all, the events of that not-so-silent night took place in a stable – a barn. More than likely, this stable was really a cave in the side of a hill. Our reading tells us that the sheep were being watched by shepherds out in a field, but there almost certainly would have been other animals in that stable – possibly cows, chickens, perhaps a dog or two – and we all know that animals aren’t always quiet when you think they ought to be quiet. And if this stable really was a cave, then you can only imagine how the sounds would bounce off those rock walls.
And then there’s this whole business of Mary giving birth. Most of us here tonight have been present in one way or another at the birth of a child. I can’t speak for any of you, but I do know that when our daughter was born and five years later when our son was born, that room was anything but silent. Let’s face it – neither mothers nor fathers are ever truly silent during the birth process. There are a lot of sounds, and some of them are anything but peaceful. When Adam and Eve sinned in the Garden of Eden, God told Eve: “I will surely multiply your pain in childbearing; in pain you shall bring forth children.” Jesus was Mary’s firstborn child – and there’s absolutely nothing in Scripture to suggest that she felt any less pain when she gave birth to our Savior than any woman has ever felt during childbirth.
And then there’s the cry of the baby Jesus. When a child is born, we anxiously wait to hear that first cry to make sure that the baby is breathing on his or her own – that the baby is healthy – and for every parent who’s ever lived, that first cry is a cry of joy. But babies don’t just cry when they are newly delivered. Babies cry – they cry a lot. They cry when they are hungry. They cry when they wet or mess their diaper. They cry when they get cold. They cry when they want to feel the mother’s loving caress. Sure, new babies tend to sleep a lot – but when they’re awake, they make a lot of noise. The cry is the only way that a baby can tell us that they are in need – in need of food, of clean clothes, of being held and cuddled and sung to.
No, the scene that night in that stable was anything but silent. But what about Bethlehem outside of the stable? Luke tells us that Bethlehem was absolutely packed with people who had come to town for the census ordered by Caesar Augustus. Bethlehem was a small town – actually, a very small town – so there weren’t many places for travelers to stay, and those places were booked solid. There wasn’t even a room available for this poor pregnant lady who was ready to give birth. The town was crammed with travelers – and people make noise. They make noise when they talk and when they eat – and some of us even make more than a little noise when we sleep.
And then there are the shepherds in the field, watching their flock by night. I’ll be honest with you – I don’t know whether or not sheep are quiet at night – but no matter how quiet they may have been on that night, things changed in a hurry. All of a sudden it got very, very loud. Luke 2, beginning at the 9th verse: “And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with fear. And the angel said to them, ‘Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths 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, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!’”
The silence was gone – replaced by the joyous words of one angel and the joyous singing of a multitude of angels. We can only imagine how beautiful that singing must have been. We can only imagine how it must have resounded through the skies – touching the hearts of those lowly shepherds who were chosen and were blessed to hear it. “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased.”
When the skies were silent again, it was the shepherds’ turn to break the silence. Luke 2, beginning at the 15th verse: “When the angels went away from them into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go over to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has made known to us.” And they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in a manger. And when they saw it, they made known the saying that had been told them concerning this child. And all who heard it wondered at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.”
No matter how you look at it, that first Christmas was anything but silent. There’s just no way that it really was a “silent night.” Our favorite Christmas hymn is wrong.
But our favorite Christmas hymn is also right – right in every respect. On that night, Jesus did, indeed, sleep in heavenly peace. The glories did stream from heaven afar, and the heavenly hosts did sing , “Alleluia! Christ the Savior is born!” The baby Jesus who laid in that manger and who cuddled in His mother’s arms was – and still is – Lord at his birth.
And that, really, is the whole point of Christmas. Not the stable or the manger or the shepherds or our beautiful Christmas hymns. No, the whole point of Christmas is that God sent His son to be born of the Virgin Mary – to be born Lord at His birth. He came not with the glory of God – but as a humble and precious baby. He came not in silence – but with a joy for the world to hear and to share. He came and some did not recognize Him – in fact, many still do not recognize Him – but God He was and God He remains. He came as true man and true God to save us from our sins. And roughly 33 years after that not-so-silent night, that’s exactly what He did.
And so we sing tonight the hymn that Christians have been singing for almost 200 years. We sing about a silent night that almost certainly was anything but silent. And we close that beautiful hymn with these beautiful words of praise, these beautiful words that confess our Christian faith: “Jesus, Lord at thy birth! Jesus, Lord at thy birth!”
In the name of our newborn Savior, Amen.
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