Today we want to celebrate the gift of music. After all, what would Christmas be without music? Didn’t angels sing the night Christ was born? (Luke 2) Well, it doesn’t actually say they were singing. It says they were saying, “Glory to God in the highest . . .” but that sure sounds like singing to me. Music is such a wonderful gift.
A few years ago a group of junior high school students was given a test of musical terms. Here were some of their answers:
- Music sung by two people at the same time is called a duel,” one young man wrote. Then he added, “I know what a sextet is but I had rather not say.
- A xylophone is an instrument used mainly to illustrate the letter X, answered someone else.
- Dirges are music written to be played at sad, sad occasions . . . such as funerals, weddings, and the like. [Did they play a dirge at your wedding?]
- Here’s one I like: What’s a refrain? Refrain means "don’t do it!" A refrain in music is the part you better not try to sing.
- A virtuoso is a musician with real high morals.
- Beethoven wrote music even though he was deaf. He was so deaf he wrote loud music . . . Beethoven expired in 1827 and later died from this.
- Handel was half German, half Italian, and half English. He was rather large!”
How would you have done on that test? Of course, we all have different tastes in music. Driving home from church one Sunday, a father turned the radio to a country station. “How can you stand that stuff?” complained his 16-year-old son. “It’s all sad stuff about dogs and pickup trucks and bar rooms and broken hearts.” Knowing his son preferred rather loud rock music, the dad asked, “Well, what’s your music about?”
“That’s the beauty of it,” the son said. “You just don’t know!”
Regardless of our age or our vocation, most of us have a kind of music we can relate to.
One Mom says that when her children first received a video of Walt Disney’s Cinderella, they watched it almost nonstop for three days. Since it was warm outside, the family kept their windows open. Their neighbors were having their roof re-shingled by three burly men. As the Mom went out to get the mail one afternoon, she heard a roofer singing, “. . . put it together and what do you get?”
From the other side of the house came a chorus of two more husky voices: “Bibbidi bobbidi, bibbidi bobbidi, bibbidi, bobbidi boo!”
Friedrich Nietzsche said, “Without music life would be a mistake.” He’s right!
Anne Lamott recounts her experience in the little African-American church she attends in California, the church that led her to conversion as an adult. She says, “Of all the things I loved about that church . . . it was the singing that pulled me in and split me wide open. Has singing ever done that to you?” she asks. She continues, “The singing enveloped me. It was furry and resonant, coming from everyone’s very heart . . . Something inside me that was stiff and rotting would feel soft and tender. Somehow the singing wore down all the boundaries and distinctions that kept me so isolated. Sitting there, standing with them to sing, sometimes so shaky and sick that I felt like I might tip over, I felt bigger than myself, like I was being taken care of, tricked into coming back to life. But I had to leave before the sermon. (One day), she writes, I went . . . to church . . . so hung over that I couldn’t stand up for the songs, and this time I stayed for the sermon, which I just thought was so ridiculous . . . but the last song was so deep and raw and pure that I could not escape. It was as if the people were singing in between the notes, weeping and joyful at the same time, and I felt like their voices or something was rocking me in its bosom, holding me like a scared kid, and I opened up to that feeling‑-and it washed over me.” (1)
Maybe sometime music has done something like that to you.
Our Old Testament lesson from Zephaniah begins like this: Sing, “O Daughter of Zion; shout aloud, O Israel! Be glad and rejoice with all your heart, O Daughter of Jerusalem! . . . The LORD, the King of Israel, is with you; never again will you fear any harm.”
This third Sunday of Advent is a day of singing. The LORD, the King of Israel, is with us. Sing, “O Daughter of Zion; shout aloud, O Israel! Be glad and rejoice with all your heart . . .
Verse 17 of this same chapter says something even more interesting. Listen very carefully to this: “The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.” Did you get that? God takes such delight in us that God sings over us. I can visualize a mother hovering over a crib singing quietly to her newborn infant. Can you imagine God singing over us? Can you hear God singing?
Gavin Ellis says that growing up he had a piano teacher who belonged to a musical society. This society did something quite interesting. They would make a point of listening for the song of angels on Christmas Eve. They believed that the angels rejoiced and celebrated each Christmas in honor of Christ . . . and so they would listen very closely at night on Christmas Eve. They would listen to the dogs bark. They would listen to the wind through the trees. They would listen to the things going on around them in the world . . . in creation to see if they could hear angel song. What would this angel song sound like? It would sound perfect. They listened for harmony and perfect pitch in the sounds of nature.
It’s a strange thing to do; it’s kind of an odd way to spend Christmas Eve. But that’s what this piano teacher and his friends did. “There’s a romantic notion to what they did,” says Gavin Ellis, but he wondered to himself how many of them actually believed that angels were singing and how many of them were a part of the group because they just thought it would be neat if angels really did sing. How many of them believed, Gavin Ellis wondered, and how many of them just hoped? (2)
Some people believe; others merely hope. Still, this is the testimony of Zephaniah: God sings over us.
There is a carol that comes to mind when I think of God singing. This carol was written in 1962, only forty-seven years ago. It is the little carol, “Do You See What I see?” It begins like this: “Do see what I see, said the night wind to the little lamb?”
The story of the song is very simple. It begins with the night wind, and the night wind sees what Christmas is all about. So the night wind tells the little lamb, and then the little lamb sees what Christmas is all about, and goes to the shepherd boy. The little shepherd boy sees the meaning of Christmas, and he goes to the mighty king and he says to the mighty king, “Do you know what I know?” Then the mighty king says to everyone, everywhere, in a deep, gruff voice, “Listen to what I say.” Then the king makes this announcement to his kingdom: “A child, a child, will bring you goodness and light.” (3)
Do you see what I see? Do you hear what I hear? If we listen closely maybe we will hear the voice of God singing over us. Now you may wonder why we sing at Christmas time. And you may wonder why in the world would God sing over us?
It begins with love. Love always makes the heart sing. It begins with God’s love for us. This, in turn, results in our love for God. This, in turn, leads to love for one another.
Rev. Roy T. Lloyd tells a story that takes place in the midst of the Great Depression when a family of three‑‑Mom, Dad, and little six‑year old Peter‑‑had absolutely no money for store‑bought presents. Nevertheless, they were very inventive in celebrating Christmas. They decided to make pictures of the presents they would like to give one another if money were no object. So they drew pictures or cut out pictures from catalogs and magazines. They put the pictures into boxes, stuck some old bows on them, and put them under a scraggly Christmas tree. On Christmas morning the tree was heaped with riches. The gifts were only pictures, to be sure, but they were symbols of Christmas giving. There was a shiny new car for Dad and a red motor boat, some golf clubs, a new suit, some sweaters, and an all‑weather coat. Mom found her dream house and a diamond necklace, dresses, coats, and a vacation cruise.
Most of the make‑believe presents were for little Pete. There were pictures of a camping tent, a new bicycle, a pedal car, and all kinds of toys and games.
Now, of course, Mom and Dad didn’t expect anything from little Pete. But Pete, with a squeal of delight, crawled under the tree and pulled out a gift he had prepared all by himself. He handed his present to his parents with a smile and they opened it. They found a picture-gift more precious than all the others. It was drawn with first‑grade crayons. It was a picture of three people standing together with big smiles on their faces. They had their arms around each other. And under the picture, little Pete had printed a single word‑‑“us.”
The light dawned and tears of joy filled the eyes of the parents because they realized that, in years to come, they may be able to give some of those Christmas presents they had only imagined, but they could never give a present more precious than the one they had received that year‑‑the gift of love they had for each other. (4)
That is a story that must be told at Christmas. If that doesn’t make you heart sing, nothing will. Our lives are filled with love. God sings over us. And we sing of the wonders of Christmas. It begins with love.
And it reaches its climax in the manger of Bethlehem. Here’s what happened in that manger God took on human flesh. God came and dwelled among us. Very few recognized him, but God was there in a lowly stable, reconciling the world unto Himself. I know it’s an outrageous thing to say, but that’s what happened there. And people have been singing about it ever since.
David Devine told a revealing story in the Washington Post sometime back. It was about a youngish white man in jeans, a long-sleeved tee shirt and a baseball cap who emerged from a subway station in Washington one Friday evening. He positioned himself against a wall beside a trash basket. From a small case, the young man removed a violin. Placing the open case at his feet, he threw in a few dollars and pocket change as seed money. Then he swiveled his case to face the people who passed by, and began to play. “In the next 43 minutes, as the violinist performed 6 great classical pieces, 1097 people passed by. Almost all of them on their way to work in mid-level Government jobs. No one knew that the violinist was one of the world’s leading classical musicians, Joshua Bell. Bell is an acclaimed virtuoso, who fills concert halls. One composer said of him: ‘He plays like a god.’” On this Friday morning Bell played on one of the most valuable violins ever made a Stradivari valued at $3.5 million. The train station provided good acoustics for Bell’s performance. His beautiful music filled the morning air.
“A reporter stood observing and recording the event. In the first 3 minutes, 63 people walked past without seeming to notice the virtuoso. Then a man stopped, looked and quickly walked on. Across the 45 minutes Joshua Bell played, 7 people stopped to listen for at least a minute. 27 people gave money. Usually, in concert, Bell gets paid $1000 per minute. This day, in total, he received $32.17. At the end of each piece, there was no applause just silent indifference. The master musician was ignored. People walked past musical glory without giving it a second glance.
“Except for two people. A postal worker named John described as a ‘smallish man with a baldish head.’ John had learned the violin as a youth. He recognized the quality of Joshua Bell’s performance and stood enjoying it from the distance. And then there was a demographer named Stacy. Stacy had seen Bell in concert 3 weeks before. She recognized him. And here he was, the international virtuoso, sawing away, begging for money. She had no idea what was going on, but whatever it was, she wasn’t about to miss it. Stacy positioned herself 3 meters away from Bell, front row, center. She had a huge grin on her face. The grin, and Stacy, remained planted in that spot until the end. Stacy told the reporter: ‘It was the most astonishing thing I’ve ever seen in Washington. Joshua Bell was standing there playing in rush hour, and people were not stopping, not even looking, and some were flipping quarters at him! Quarters! I was thinking, Omigosh, what kind of a city do I live in that this could happen?’” (5)
One of the world’s great musicians playing on the street for coins. Only a few recognized him. It sounds somewhat familiar. Only a few recognized Christ in the stable of Bethlehem. Some star-struck shepherds, some magi from the East and a humble carpenter and his bride-to-be. But not many. And yet that event turned the world upside down. It was enough to start the whole world singing. And why shouldn’t it? Why shouldn’t all creation sing? And why shouldn’t we sing? After all, the God of all creation the God of the moon and the stars and the wind and the waves sings over us. Can you hear it? Listen closely. It is the song of everlasting love, hope peace and joy. It is the song of Jesus Christ.
1. Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies (Pantheon, 1998), pp. 47‑50. Cited by W. Gregory Pope, http://www.crescenthillbaptistchurch.org/oldsite/sermon‑9‑25‑05.htm.
2. (http://www.day1.net/index.php5?view=transcripts&tid=90).
3. Cited by Edward F. Markquart, http://www.sermonsfromseattle.com/christmas_do_you_see.htm.
4. http://pastorgavinellis.blogspot.com/2005/11/luke‑28‑15‑from‑silence‑came‑music.html.
5. John Mark Ministries. http://jmm.aaa.net.au/articles/20684.htm.