There is something about seeing the reflection of candles in children's eyes that evokes life's best feelings. The hymn we will close with tonight, Silent Night, captures the sensation well: "All is calm, all is bright." We catch the bright excitement of children over Christmas possibilities, and yet there is a sense of tranquility, of all being well, of some good greater than all adversaries that undergirds the excitement. We come here tonight to "catch" that mood. It isn't always easy to catch. There is sadness all around us and perhaps in us. Not all children have loving families. Even those of us who were blessed by loving families sometimes find our own path to sadness. I spoke with one member of our faith family this week who said that when he gathers with his family at Christmas, he can't stop thinking about all the family Christmas gatherings he has missed in life because bad habits kept him away. And good choices don't protect us from sadness. Loving ties require hard good-byes for the passage from this life to the next.
In a moment, friendly beasts will frolic down the aisle toward the manger. What can they teach us? It is no accident that they are part of this story. The Gospel writers each picked and chose what parts of Jesus' story to put in their writings. Everything has a point, including Luke's careful description of Jesus' birth among animals in a stable. Jesus must have been among them for a reason. The animals could welcome him into this world because they knew something we need to know. Animals have ways of knowing that even to this day mystify people. We've all read that animals behave differently before an earthquake. They seem able to pick up creation's mood where their hooves meet the ground. If you have pets, you know that they sense your mood without any words or signs. They may offer a lick or come up for a cuddle when you most need it.
What did the animals know that night? They must have felt the very earth singing joy that God could not bear to watch his creation suffer from a distance, that love was propelling God to enter creation's struggles, that God was bent on proclaiming that sadness need never be the last chapter of any story. They heard all creation exclaim: Our God is not merely for us, or with us. Our God is in us. Born now as a gentle babe, but here for all that this life entails.
Would you like to know what the friendly beasts knew ever more fully? Would you like to feel the certainty of God's love and presence each time your foot touches the ground, as they did? When the gentle babe Jesus grew and faced all that life entails, he gave us a way to know more deeply. Knowing exactly what it is like to be us, he told his disciples to gather over bread and wine and remember his words, "This is my body. This is my blood." He promised to give us the life of his body and the strength of his blood in the meal we will celebrate here at this altar. He promised to help us know that God is not only for us and with us, but in our lives and being even now, bringing hope midst all our fears, midst any sadness.
"The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight." It was true 2000 years ago, and it can be just as true tonight. Let this be our prayer as we watch the friendly beasts come to the stable. "May the hopes and fears of all the years be met for me tonight."