I'm glad that in our city, unlike many across this great nation, this is still referred to as a Christmas Parade.
As I read that headline, I thought about how different things were on that first Christmas. Certainly Bethlehem was crowded, as people were coming from across Judea because of the required census. Homes were full as families gave shelter to their relatives who had traveled great distances.
But on the night that Christ was born, there was no parade. There were no spectators hovering about, waiting for the miraculous news that the Messiah had been born.
It was a night much like any other, except that a very special Baby was born.
We sing about the "silent night". We sing about "how silently the wondrous Gift is given."
While those lines are beautifully poetic, and we love to sing those songs, I'm not sure it was a silent night. As families crowded in to their relatives' homes, there was probably an extra level of noise. As Mary and Joseph were settled in with the animals, I doubt it was particularly quiet. Animals are not always silent. And childbirth is rarely a silent affair.
But there is a sense in which we can consider that this Wondrous Gift was given silently. No crowds were lining up to see the newborn baby. There was no announcement in the daily newspaper. No fanfare to announce the arrival of a King. Just a tiny Baby born, surrounded by animals and his parents, and placed in a manger, a feeding trough, instead of a crib.
You will probably recall that when Prince George and Princess Charlotte were born in England, there were throngs of people gathered outside the hospital awaiting news of the royal birth. On both occasions, proclamations were read and headlines across the United Kingdom and around the world hailed the birth of a royal baby.
Not so when Christ came.
No spectators lining the streets. No headlines. No television cameras.
Yet on an ordinary night in some very not-ordinary circumstances, the extraordinary happened. Jesus, our Savior, was born.
Years later, after this Baby grew to adulthood, crowds would come to hear Him speak. On a Palm Sunday, crowds would follow Him into Jerusalem, shouting their Hosannas. And only a few days later, those same crowds would be clamoring for His crucifixion.
Not so on the night He was born.
No crowds. No fanfare. No parades. No press.
In that sense, He came quietly. Silently.
One night, in Bethlehem, the greatest of gifts, slipped quietly into our world. God Himself with us, Immanuel. He was born to us that night. And the world has never been the same!
How silently, how silently
The wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of His heaven.
No ear may hear His coming,
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him still,
The dear Christ enters in.
The wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of His heaven.
No ear may hear His coming,
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him still,
The dear Christ enters in.
("O Little Town of Bethlehem", 3rd verse, text by Phillips Brooks)
Listen to a non-traditional version of this carol, sung by Point of Grace, here:
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