I am surrounded right now with a low hum of activity. Here in the church office we are busily and steadily preparing for Christmas Eve. Though there is still one Sunday left in Advent, all the many details that go into creating the services of worship that usher people into the Christmas season have been being refined for weeks. Bulletins need to be printed. Music needs to be rehearsed. Liturgy needs to be written, speaking parts assigned. People have been signing up for the last month to be a part of one or more of the many services that will bring the Light of Christmas into the hearts of those in attendance.

It has been my privilege for many years to be a part of the 4:00 Christmas Eve pageant. This service of worship which features our children and youth choirs also tells the story of the birth of Jesus complete with angels, shepherds, Magi and the Holy Family. Those desiring these coveted roles have volunteered to don wings and halos, wear crowns and carry staffs. Only the Holy Family is invited……a new baby in the family makes you in the running for this center stage appearance. 

I have to be frank that the days moving up to the pageant are chaos. Even the rehearsal is chaos. Try bringing children of all ages together in the days moving up to this important day, sugar coursing through their bodies, sugarplums dancing in their heads, and it is nearly impossible to have anything but chaos present. Little bodies and even larger bodies fidget with excitement. Those reading in public for the first time are filled with a certain anxiety. Parents and grandparents, full of pride and anticipation, juggle to see their particular actor in the Nativity story.

I sometimes wonder what St. Francis of Assisi, the purported creator of the first Christmas pageant, would think if he saw the pageants we produce today. They are certainly more elaborate, more polished. Our costumes are finer, our words more well chosen, our choirs better trained. Rarely are live animals a part of the mix, adding yet another level of possible chaos to the tableau. I pray he would be pleased with what he might see. I pray he would experience the same level of awe at how ordinary people, mostly children, rise to become an angel heralding the news of Jesus' birth. I hope he would smile at the commitment of the shepherds to make their way to the manger, staff in hand, eyes transfixed by a baby they will see in a different light than ever before. I hope he would look with humility upon the Magi, knowing that the gifts they offer represent something more than the colored, glass beads glued to a fancy box.

These are my hopes because I know that this miracle happens for me every year. When the chaos of costumes and children transforms into the wonder of once again seeing that a Child can make a difference in the world, not only for me, but for everyone present. At that moment, when we are held in a thin place between what is real and now and what is eternal, the only possible response is to light a candle and sing with a lump in your throat: "Silent night….holy night…all is calm….all is bright………"