Merry Christmas! We made it! It just wouldn’t be right reaching the end of the year without this communal gathering, this message from the angels and shepherds, the star, the manger with mother and child. And this moment to reflect on the year--the losses you’ve born, the lessons learned, occasions for laughter, all of it, Life’s rich pageant, as we say in my household.
So lovely to see you all and if you’re visiting, as always, a very warm welcome, and I hope we’ll see you again. If you’re back from college or wherever off in the world you’ve gone, a special welcome to you.
This is our 175th anniversary year. 175 Christmas sermons have been preached from this pulpit--more accurately, this pulpit and the one that came before the church was expanded. For 175 years a faithful Altar Guild - hundreds of women, plus a few men - have decorated the church and readied the altar for this annual feast. An untold number of our youth have donned their acolyte robes and led the procession of choir and clergy into the church. Thousands of children have come in these doors on this night wriggling through what probably felt like the longest church service ever.
We’re just here for now, and it’s a privilege to be the ones sitting in these pews where so many have sat before, and will again after we’re gone. The present moment is all we have, and it’s a gift. Let’s be thankful for it.
This being our 175th Anniversary year, I wanted to share something from our archives. We have a large collection here of historic documents, which several of us have been poring over these past few months. What I’m about to read comes from the Parish Messenger, the newsletter (which we still have today, albeit digital).
In December 1933 Alan Chalmers was the rector. Roosevelt was the newly-elected president. Like any year, there were ups and downs in the life of our country and the world, though 1933 stands out to subsequent generations as the year the Nazi party consolidated power in Germany. Which I’m pointing out because you’ll hear that mentioned in what I’m about to read.
From what I could tell, Father Chalmers preached this on Christmas (and that would have been this pulpit, by the way brand new then), and then it was reprinted in the Parish Messenger, the newsletter, which is where I found it. It’s all the things a sermon should be: grounding, hopeful, and challenging all at once. And you’ll appreciate this: it’s short. I know how much that means to the people of St James. Even still I’ve cut a few bits out.
He takes as his text the angels cry to the shepherds “on earth, peace, and goodwill toward men.” Here’s the Reverend Chalmers. Try to imagine you’re hearing it both then (1933) and now. I think you’ll be surprised by how much it resonates across nine decades.
On earth, peace. The Gloria in Excelsis rang out over Bethlehem’s plain, when the Savior was born. Was it peace on earth? Not international peace, war was continuous: the temple of Janus [the god of war] only three times closed in the long roll of the Roman era, the whole history of the chosen people a record of the bloodiest wars. On earth, peace. [Was] it a prophecy? Not fulfilled in vast armaments, nor in Hitlerism, nor in “America First.”
Was it peace in the home? There were households with friction and families disjointed in Judea as in Westchester. Was it peace in the heart? Some few always have attained that far vision and deep faith that bring the peace that passes all understanding.
Peace is the quiet rest of the soul, the heart full of love, the vision of heaven, the glimpse of God. May that be your Christmas blessing and the gift you bring to all you love, Peace of conscience, peace with your fellows; these make your peace with God.
God the Father sent Peace on earth that first Christmas night. He gave his children a gift that no price can buy and no work can win … In Jesus Christ is the hope of the world; He is our peace. He finds you, before you seek Him; He is in you, and you in Him. Before all else at Christmas, especially before you get so tired and frayed from the last minute rush, seek the Savior in meditative love; pray and prepare for that Communion with him. Don’t make Christmas just another holiday--make it a holy day. [Come] to your Church and ask God for peace.
And then go out into the world and make peace on earth. The blessed peacemakers will heal wounds, forgive injuries, thaw coldness and cement breaks. In the festival of goodwill and love, let us be ready to forgive and forget all malice and resentments of old, and restore peace. Don’t let this season go by without some distinct act of peace.
----
It’s great, isn’t it? Being in a historic parish, being part of an institution that existed long before you and will continue on long after you, reminds us that time is precious and fleeting. And if we don’t seek peace in our lives and in our world right now, and tomorrow, and the day after that, soon the time will pass and we won’t have done our job, bringing Christ’s promise of peace and goodwill to the earth.
As the Rev. Chalmers pointed out, it always starts small: let go of a grudge. Reconcile with a family member or neighbor. Hold in angry words, don’t let them out. Smile at someone you’d normally pass right by. Then, feed a hungry person. Reach out to someone who’s lonely. Speak for those who can’t, or won’t, or are too afraid or disempowered. Insist on justice, fairness, kindness to all and from all.
Martin Luther King said, about 30 years after Father Chalmers preached his sermon on peace (I can’t help but think he’d have included it if he’d known it): “true peace is not merely the absence of tension; it’s the presence of justice.”
Peace, on earth, and goodwill towards all. The message is as urgent today as it was 2000 years ago, and 91 years ago, in 1933. It’s always the time to do all we can to bring peace on earth. Or as the Rev. Chalmers put it, so urgently: “Don’t let this season go by without some distinct act of peace.” Amen.