Fear Not

Luke 2:1-14

 

   Whenever I hear the words of the King James translation of this passage, chills go up my back.   The season trembles around me.  ‘And it came to pass in those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed.’  It’s a switch that initiates all the pageantry and wonder speaking from places of shadowed mystery.  It whispers of beings beyond our understanding, presenting themselves to teenaged girls and blue collar workers.  Poetic words that open an epic made of anything but heroes.           

   Woven into the all too human story are these beings from beyond, messengers from the creator of all that was, is, and shall be.  Ever since I was a child I couldn’t buy the way people spoke of and pictured these messengers.  They were cute, sentimental projections of anything but the majesty and glory that messengers from beyond our understanding could be.

   I can understand why the pictures and stories of angels are done so.  There is no way to portray such beings.  It is beyond our capability.  So we give them wings, we give them halos.  But more, we reduce them, because beings of power and glory intruding on us are fearful.  We don’t want to fear in this time of sentiment and affection.  We want the security and affirmation that Christmas stands for. 

   I collect angels.  Most of them are beautiful, graceful human figures with flowing robes, dancing through space.  In this season they change our home into a preserve, a safe landing zone in these three dimensions for these bringers of God’s Word, reflections of the Maker’s glory.  They still tell a story of grace, a very human story begun so long ago, at least according to our perspective.  It is not only a story of one child’s birth, but also of that birth here and now, in this house, in this family. 

   They speak of memories, of songs sung at birth and death, of moments of affection and the new joy of relationships.  They speak of new faith, of heart felt understanding where before there were only words and human traditions.  They speak of the miracles that are ours to embrace.  So the multidimensional conduits of God’s news here and now in these beautiful, yet limited forms speak of our limited apprehension of God’s mystery and glory.  They speak of this incarnate specificity, born to us a savior.  They play human instruments.  They read and sing from manuscripts.  And they remind us that this is a season for us, we limited, needy, broken beings.  And so the multidimensional beings, here and now are beautiful, graceful, winged dancers, rather than reason defying, sense violating, terrifying beings. 

   And the songs they sing allow us to rest in the Good News that we, as we are, are loved. 

 Merry Christmas.

“O rest beside the weary road and hear the angels sing.”