Christmas is a season of traditions.  Starting with the day-after-Thanksgiving shopping binge we are awash in a flood of symbols and rituals--lights, tinsel, Christmas trees, advent wreaths, egg nog, Santa, Rudolf, gift exchanges, Christmas cards, office parties, caroling, cookie baking, and the list goes on and on.  All of these rituals exist to get us into the “Spirit of Christmas,” whatever that means.  Madison Avenue and the secularizing influences of society seem to have gotten their hooks into a distressing number of my Christmas traditions.  As I trudge through University Park Mall agonizing over what to buy for people I see twice a year, the intercom plays “Silent Night” alongside “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer.” I browse the Hallmark display which has a small section entitled “Religious” alongside the wash of Santa cards chiming Season’s Greetings. The checkout clerk mutters “Happy Holidays” as she rings up my sale, • the intercom plays “Jingle Bells” sung by dogs. •• You get the picture.

 Fortunately, there are traditions which bring meaning to our lives year after year, while remaining largely unblemished by the surrounding culture.  This morning’s service is structured around Handel’s “Messiah,” a prime example of such a tradition.  While the Hallelujah Chorus may not have escaped the jingle writers, by and large, the work defies corruption.  You simply can’t use “Comfort Ye My People” or “He Shall Feed His Flock” to sell electric razors.  Such an overt expression of faith is too controversial for the marketplace.  It’s not like a Greeting Card where you can tone down the wording.  “The Messiah” cannot become “That Good Guy From Galilee” and still exist as a work of art.

 It would be interesting to know how many of you have sung or listened to The Messiah as a part of your Christmas Season in the past. Raise your hands if you did.  I grew up with this piece.  Every Christmas the brave amateurs of College Mennonite Church would gather with their Messiah scores,  Mary Oyer would direct, Dwight Weldy would sing the tenor solos and an assortment of strings would play the accompaniment.  As a violinist, there were times when I’d do the piece several times in a year.  There were times when I almost got tired of it.  It wasn’t until we moved away and went for a year or two without singing or playing it that I realized how important the work had become to me.  I had been participating in a tradition without reflecting on its meaning.  The Messiah conveys a vision of who Christ is and invites both performer and listener to participate in that vision in a way that only the arts can.

Handel’s vision of the Messiah draws on the rich imagery and prophecy of scripture for inspiration. In the space of three weeks Handel took a collage of scripture passages and set them to music in such a way as to produce a powerful portrait of the prophecy, passion and promise of Christ.  The first part, commonly referred to as the Christmas section, draws heavily on Old Testament prophecy concerning the Messiah found in the books of Isaiah, Malachi and Zechariah. It is a message of comfort, hope and expectancy for the faithful.
 
The second section focuses on the passion material and is marked by a stark change of mood starting with the opening chorus.  “Behold the lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world.”  A surprising number of the texts in this section come from the Psalms.  They describe the suffering of the Psalmist, but carry Messianic overtones.  With each succeeding number, the mood of the section grows livelier and brighter as the materials moves through the ascension and enthronement of Christ, culminating in the Hallelujah Chorus.

The third and final section portrays the promise of Christ, which is eternal life for the believer.  The soprano soloist sets the tone for this section by singing “I know that My Redeemer Liveth.”  The material which follows comes largely from I Corinthians 15 and concludes with the rousing “Worthy is the Lamb” from the book of Revelation.

 My one regret in this service is that we weren’t able to do more numbers from the actual Messiah, because it is the music which conveys the interpretation.  Words can enter the mind and slip off into oblivion, but great music touches the soul.  I’ve talked to so many people whose most intense spiritual experiences came in connection with music.  The Messiah is certain capable of evoking such an experience.•••

 I remember one particular performance.  It was Christmastime and Patsy and I were singing the Messiah with the Lancaster Bible College choir.  The theology of the place was such that they were compelled to sing all the Easter material even though it was a Christmas program.  We sang everything.  Initially I was annoyed because it made for a lot of work and a long program.  But at the performance is was impossible to avoid the power of the later numbers.  They moved me past the baby in the manger to contemplate the full impact of Christ’s coming.

 In the coming days it will be difficult to avoid getting bogged down in the busy-ness and materialism that pervades the Christmas season.  And so I leave you with the following suggestions:

First, take some time away and use the arts to focus your thoughts on the original meaning of Christ’s birth.  It doesn’t matter whether you choose a Renaissance Nativity scene, a work of music or sculpture--whatever works for you. When you’re done, take that new perspective back and share it with the those around you.

 Second, think about the traditions surrounding Christmas that you’ve found meaningful over the years and share them with others.

 Third and finally, listen to the whole Messiah, not just the Christmas part.  Think about the impact that it has on your view of Christmas and the baby Jesus.  In the end, you’ll have to admit that the theology isn’t very Mennonite--we’d have to add a fourth section on the life and teachings of Christ--but that it conveys an important message about Christ as a focus of worship and a source of hope for those who believe.