December 18, 2023

As a young man fresh out of college, I spent five years in the United States Navy. The situations unique to the military give you perspectives that you don’t often find in civilian life, and you learn a lot about your world, about others, and about yourself. Here is one of those things that I learned: dead silence can startle you. In a ship, there is always noise. In some spaces, like the engine room, it is quite loud, but in all spaces there is always the quiet white noise of the fans that circulate the air throughout the ship. When I first reported on board, someone told me that if they ever turned off the fans when you were in the bunk, you would wake up, not from a noise but from the absence of it. And sure enough, when they ran drills, they would sometimes turn these fans off to conserve electricity during a power plant issue, and I would wake up, wondering what was going on, knowing that something had changed. I think anyone that has been a parent can relate. You’re doing something in the house, the kids are in a different room, and suddenly you notice that they are not making any noise. Your antennae go up and you instantly think, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

With this in mind, I’d like to read from that important prophet that Christians believe foretold the coming of the Messiah. This is from the first five verses of Isaiah chapter 40:

Comfort, give comfort to my people,

says your God.

Speak to the heart of Jerusalem, and proclaim to her

that her service has ended,

that her guilt is expiated,

That she has received from the hand of the LORD

double for all her sins.

A voice proclaims:

In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD!

Make straight in the wasteland a highway for our God!

Every valley shall be lifted up,

every mountain and hill made low;

The rugged land shall be a plain,

the rough country, a broad valley.

Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed,

and all flesh shall see it together;

for the mouth of the LORD has spoken. [NABRE]

Isaiah originally told this to the Israelites who were in exile, and they understood that their deliverance from bondage in Babylonia was about to be over and they would return to the promised land, which did happen under the Persian king Cyrus. However, the last Jewish prophet, who is also the first Christian prophet, understood that these words also applied to the Messiah. And so, all four of the gospels quote this Isaian passage as relating to John the Baptist. These words are so full of meaning, but I would like to emphasize one aspect today: have we prepared properly, have we truly made the paths straight, filled in the valleys, and done anything to lower the hills leading to our hearts? Our God comes to us, but we need to prepare the way. I would argue that, unless we’ve stilled the noise going on in our minds and hearts to a degree that is almost startling in its silence, we are not fully ready to receive what Isaiah called “the glory of the Lord” when it is revealed. We will not be able to hear the Spirit above all the other noise or see the incarnation of Christ through all of the worldly images clamoring for our attention.

Of course, the glory of the Lord has already been revealed. Jesus is called Emmanuel because it means God is with us [Matthew 1:23, Isaiah 7:14]. So the question is not whether God is with us, but how can we fully realize his presence. Father Bill Leonard once wrote, “We cannot be consciously in [God’s] presence and worry at the same time.” The peace and joy of Christmas, which is emblematic of the peace and joy of being Christian, is only possible if we can be open to it. And we will be most open to it if we can still the distractions and become like what the carol describes about Christ’s first coming: Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright.

There is an old story about a man who climbed a mountain to see the holy woman who was there. He told her that he wanted to know how to find God. She thought for a second, and then said, “Let’s have some tea.” She prepared the things, and then, when filling his cup, she poured, and kept pouring, and pouring. The cup was soon full and then the tea went into the saucer, then onto the table, and then onto the floor. She finally stopped pouring. She then told him: “Unless you can empty your cup of the cares of this world, there won’t be room for the cares of being holy. God has come to you and still comes to you, but you don’t have room left for God. Come back with your cup empty and we’ll talk.”

Although we typically use the great hymn in second chapter of Saint Paul’s letter to the Philippians during our preparation for Christ’s passion during our Lenten preparations, we see that Jesus, in emptying himself on the cross, was able to be in perfect unity with the Father, and thus provides the example we need of also emptying ourselves to receive him. On Christmas, the Holy Family could not have gone into the stable if it were not empty. You see, the inn was full, and could not receive them. The baby Jesus could not have been laid in the manger if there were sheep eating from it. So the question is, have we prepared our hearts, like the manager in Bethlehem, to receive Christ, or are we full like the inn? If we can silence our minds enough, if we can open our hearts enough, I think that we will be startled to find him nearer to us than we ever imagined.

Let us end in prayer: Heavenly Father, we praise you for all of the many blessings you have always given your children. Help us to prepare a place in our hearts and in our lives that we may know your presence and understand your will for us. Holy Spirit, help us to hear your call to holiness within us, that we may become your new messengers, like Isaiah and John the Baptist of old, to bring our world closer to the Kingdom of Heaven. May we experience this Christmas a silent night of being truly in your presence, turning it into a most holy night, a very blessed and wonderful night. We ask all this through Christ, our Lord.