The Sauntering Pilgrim

“Joy to the world!” we’re preparing to sing in little more than two weeks, “and heav’n and nature sing” with us, or we with them. We echo joy in heeding the invitation, “Sing choirs of angels, sing in exultation, sing, all ye citizens of Bethlehem” – and of Buffalo and its environs, too. I already anticipate the music of instruments and voices that will ring out joy in our sanctuary on Christmas Eve. It’s a season for singing with all we have to sing with.

But have you noticed how much silence there is in the season? “O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie!” “Midnight slumber lies o’er all, one lone bright lamp lights the stall.” “The world in solemn stillness lay to hear the angels sing.” And of course, “Silent night, holy night! All is calm.” Amid all the great music, a kind of hush settles over the world to mark the holy moment of birth.

There are lots of reasons why we might be silent now. There’s awe, of course, at the immediacy of life’s great Mystery, awe in which we’re struck speechless – and senseless, too, the closer Mystery comes. God may want our silence for another reason. In her book When God Is Silent, Barbara Brown Taylor suggests, “By limiting our speech, God gets some relief from our descriptive assaults. When we run out of words, then and perhaps only then can God be God.”

So sing the great hymns and carols of the season. I’ll be singing with you. Amid all the busyness and bustle, however, be sure to allow generous amounts of silence as well, in which you may hear something like the wind in the pine trees, whispering what cannot be put into words.