The Silence and Stillness of the First Christmas - Christmas Eve
Author: Pastor Scott Schul
December 24, 2025
Christmas is such a noisy time of
year. It seems to begin right after
Halloween. That’s when we suddenly become
inundated with Christmas melodies sacred and secular, a sea of sounds which
transport us from the Little Town of Bethlehem to the sad sight of Grandma
being run over by a reindeer. The
musical barrage blares at us in our homes and cars, but especially in the
stores. Every aisle is filled not only
with tempting items for our shopping carts, but unrelenting noise.
That noise is compounded by the mad
rush of people who are out competing for those scarce must-have presents, that
last Christmas tree on the lot, and of course crowding our homes and workplaces
for those end-of-year Christmas parties. Before long, the crowds, conversations, and carols blend together into a
thundercloud of chaos and confusion that often leaves me, and maybe you as
well, overwhelmed and overstimulated. Christmas is indeed the noisiest time of the year.
Now, before you begin to think that
I’m some sort of modern-day Scrooge dedicated to “ah-humbugging” the jubilant
festivities of Christmas, or some sort of wannabe desert monk who desires only
to burrow away from civilization and reemerge sometime in late Spring, I assure
you that I love the music of Christmas. I love all the corny old TV specials starring Charlie Brown, Frosty,
Rudolph, and even the Heat Miser. And I
love the opportunity for special gatherings with friends and family that happen
at this time of year. There’s a very
soft spot in my heart for the noisy, semi-controlled chaos of the Christmas
season.
And why not? After all, that very first Christmas
was absolutely teeming with noise, activity, and turmoil. Armies of angels preached, proclaimed, and
sang amidst the normally sleepy little streets and surrounding fields of
Bethlehem. If that wasn’t enough, just
imagine the commotion when a swarm of shepherds garbed in work clothes, pungent
with the scents of muddy fields and woolly sheep, suddenly burst into the
cramped quarters where Mary had just given birth to Jesus. There was no privacy, no respite, and no
making sense of anything as these strangers crowded around a common feeding trough to gaze upon a most uncommon baby. Boisterous introductions were made. Incredible stories were exchanged. Noise! So much noise.
But for a few moments at least,
let’s step away from the noise of that first Christmas, and take a break
from the noise of this Christmas, and rest in the holy silence of this
story. Because it’s only in the
stillness of that silence that we begin to notice things which otherwise escape
our attention amidst the usual whirlwind of life. It’s sort of like finding yourself alone in a
forest after a fresh snowfall. Suddenly
your senses come alive, as if experiencing the world for the very first time, and
you notice all the graceful little details of life that the noise and
distractions rob us of sensing: like the crunch of your boots in the snow, the
gentle whisper of the wind, and the subtle movements of the little snow birds
as they flutter and settle into the broad branches of the pine trees.
And so now let’s enter the silence
of the Holy Family on that first Christmas, in those moments after the angels
returned to the heavens and the shepherds retreated to the gentle hills and
valleys around Bethlehem to tend their sheep. It’s finally quiet. Take a look
around. Though most of us grew up
thinking Jesus’s birth happened in something akin to a wooden barn, scholars
and archaeologists tell us it’s more likely that Jesus was born in a cave that
doubled as a stable for livestock, and that the manger wasn’t made from slats
of wood but chiseled out of stone.
In your mind’s eye, can you see
it? It's so peaceful, so still, so
quiet. It’s dark too, but as your eyes
slowly adjust you begin to hear things you would have otherwise missed. Now we can hear Mary’s soft breathing as she
finally has a moment to nap after the exertion and exhaustion of giving birth
and entertaining angels and shepherds, not to mention the long and wearying
journey from the north country which preceded all this.
Do you see Joseph? Joseph’s mind and body have been running on
pure adrenaline this night, as he frantically searched for a place for his wife
to give birth. He wonders if he has done
his best or if he has somehow failed those he most loves. Now he sits quietly by the fire, watching the
flames as he processes everything he’s experienced not just this night
but over the past weeks and months as he learned first from Mary, and then from
an angel, that he wasn’t just going to be Mary’s husband. He was going to be the adoptive father and
caretaker of God’s own son.
Now, notice the baby. If angels traversed the heavens and shepherds
raced across fields just to see this child, shouldn’t we also prioritize him? In the quiet and stillness of the cave we can
finally give him our full attention. He
has a full belly of milk thanks to Mary, and now he contentedly coos and sleeps
in that adorable way only babies can do. But what else do you notice? It’s
a little detail that Luke considered so important that he mentioned it not once but twice in our Gospel lesson. The
baby Jesus is wrapped in bands of cloth. Why does that matter?
Those bands of cloth are a reminder
to us that Jesus came into this world with a mission. You see, just as he was wrapped in bands of cloth
on the first day of his mortality, he would likewise be wrapped in bands
of cloth on his last day of mortality. His body would then be placed in another cave – this time a tomb - and
sealed with a stone, perhaps drawn from the same quarry as the rock from which
his infant crib was hewn.1 Of
course, that tomb would prove powerless to hold Jesus. On the third day, he would rise in victory
over sin and death in a triumph won for all creation, carrying with it the
promises of forgiveness, new beginnings, and new life.
Those promises, my friends, are not
just for famous saints. Those promises
are for you. Luke carefully
recorded this story to emphasize this for you. You see, it’s no accident that you’ve been drawn into the quiet and
stillness of Jesus’s birth tonight. He
has drawn you close so that you might rest in the glow of his nativity, even as
you contemplate his eventual surrender to the cross, and his eternal, cosmic
triumph.
Perhaps you’ve come here tonight
just as exhausted as Mary was on that first Christmas. Maybe you feel as overwhelmed as Joseph was,
as you wonder whether you’ve done enough. And maybe you feel as vulnerable and helpless as a newborn infant, fearful
of what awaits you. If so, it’s good
that you are here tonight. Because Jesus
wants to birth something in your heart tonight. It’s a new birth of hope grounded in Jesus’s
unfathomable, unlimited love and grace for you. Maybe life has been too chaotic, too noisy for you to sense his presence. But now, in the quiet of that Bethlehem cave
tonight, can you hear him calling you?
Let Jesus take you by the hand and
walk with you. Certainly you will face
crosses of your own along your journey. But through all of them, Jesus will be with you. He will never let go of you. When we leave here tonight, we will reenter a
noisy, chaotic, and unpredictable world. But we will do so as changed people, because now we can take the silence
and stillness of that very first Christmas with us, and carry and share that
peace wherever we go. Because in it we
possess an ongoing reminder that we are Jesus’s people, eternally beloved. And in his grace and salvation, we need not
be afraid. We can live in hope. Merry Christmas! Amen.
© 2025 Rev. Scott E. Schul, all rights reserved
Citations
1 Luke 23:53
Gospel
Text: Luke 2:1-20
1 In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world
should be registered. 2 This was the first registration and was
taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3 All went to
their own towns to be registered. 4 Joseph also went from the
town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem,
because he was descended from the house and family of David. 5 He
went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a
child. 6 While they were there, the time came for her to
deliver her child. 7 And she gave birth to her firstborn son
and wrapped him in bands of cloth and laid him in a manger, because there was
no place in the guest room.
8 Now
in that same region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch
over their flock by night. 9 Then an angel of the Lord stood
before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were
terrified. 10 But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid,
for see, I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: 11 to
you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the
Lord. 12 This will be a sign for you: you will find a child
wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” 13 And
suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising
God and saying,
14 “Glory
to God in the highest heaven,
and on
earth peace among those whom he favors!”
15 When
the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one
another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place,
which the Lord has made known to us.” 16 So they went with
haste and found Mary and Joseph and the child lying in the manger. 17 When
they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child, 18 and
all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them, 19 and
Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. 20 The
shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and
seen, just as it had been told them.
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