I love this night. I want to read a very short poem for you from a Welsh poet of the 20th century named R.S. Thomas. It’s one of my very favorites, called:

The Coming

And God held in his hand
A small globe. Look, he said.
The son looked. Far off,
As through water, he saw
A scorched land of fierce
Colour. The light burned
There; crusted buildings
Cast their shadows; a bright
Serpent, a river
Uncoiled itself, radiant
With slime.
On a bare
Hill a bare tree saddened
The sky. Many people
Held out their thin arms
To it, as though waiting
For a vanished April
To return to its crossed
Boughs. The son watched
Them. Let me go there, he said.

And so it begins.

Such a small thing. In a universe of a billion galaxies, with an uncountable number of stars, One Star shines in one galaxy. Few noticed, few watched, few paid attention but even if they had it wasn’t much to see. Such a small thing.

Such a tiny place. Bethlehem of Judea, five miles south of Jerusalem. Now it holds the hint of something bigger, something grand, a landmark, a tourist destination, but then…then a insignificant village.

You have been in them, in Central Washington or the hills of California. The world is filled with villages, towns. I have seen them now in China, in Inner Mongolia, in Uganda, too many villages to name, one looks like the other and has little to distinguish it. Each one has a few people, a store, a market, a post office, a butcher’s shop. Bethlehem. Few noticed. Such a small place.

Such a nameless person. A shepherd watches over the safety of a herd of sheep. Along with a few others like him, the foothills of the Middle East are home. His place is at the bottom of society.

Oh, it is important work, this guarding of sheep, keeping out the beasts or thieves that would steal a lamb for dinner. But the pay is nothing, no benefits, no retirement, no union pushing for more money or less hours or overtime pay. The shepherd has not been to school, cannot read, respectable people would never know him unless they owned the sheep. Disposable. Enough clothes to keep warm – barely – a small campfire adds some warmth, and he can see another campfire a few hills away, and one beyond that and beyond that and beyond that, each with a shepherd or two or three. Such nameless, invisible people.

Such a common thing. One teenage woman, unmarried and pregnant. Scared, worried about the future, reputation ruined, doors closing, options shutting down, forced to depend on others. One teenage woman, unmarried and pregnant. It happens all the time. In fact, 400,000 times per year, in one country. Our country. Such a common thing.

Such an insignificant thing. One baby. One tiny, wiggling, breathing, kicking, needy baby. Seven pounds 4 ounces, 18 inches long, 4 million born every year in this country, 125 million each year in the world. Such an insignificant thing.

A cry rends the dark curtain of the night.

The same voice that spoke the world into being cries out
in a baby’s voice.

I have always imagined, though it surely did not physically happen, that at that moment, everything stopped. Stars froze, the oceans went slack, rivers lessened/slowed/trickled, wind suddenly died down, eagles quit flapping to glide silently, ships respectfully lowered sails, the marketplace grew quiet and commerce ceased because of the cry of one baby,

But of course, the clatter of life, the busyness of the market,
the roar of people only affirmed

that few noticed,
few watched,
few paid attention.

And yet, with an audience you could count on one hand,

with no heads of state present,
no historians with pens poised,
no media coverage,

one voice cries into the night,

the same voice that spoke the world into being
and might have said

“Let me go there.”

This one moment when the God of the universe deemed every village, every shepherd, every teenage unwed mom, every invisible, insignificant, ordinary, common person significant. Important. Loved. Worth something. Worth, in fact, everything. Worth life, love, miracles, betrayal, a cross, death.

For God’s sake, let us notice, watch, pay attention.

Let us not miss it. Let us not miss Him.

Such a small thing, this baby named Jesus. He will save his people from their sins.

And so it begins.

Let us pray.