“And yet, they sang like angels.”
I do not know if angels can grasp irony. But if they cannot, they will miss the incandescent grace that underlies the Christmas story. We have pondered Joseph and the path to Bethlehem, and today we will ponder those strange creatures who announce and narrate the Christmas story, the angels.
“You sing like an angel,” murmured the kind, bearded man to his partner as he touched her shoulder. He was not alone in his estimate. Everyone in the church had, at the direction of the charismatic leader with the microphone, turned to their neighbor to offer this odd Christmas blessing. “You sing like an angel.”
The church service was the Advent meeting of Hillsong Berlin, held in the sanctuary of our cloister. Our apartment is right next to the sanctuary, separated only by a short stairwell. So we could hear them setting up and practicing while Hannah took her afternoon nap. And we could surely tell when the service was in full swing as the guitars, electric organ, and amplified singing filled the whole cloister.
Hillsong is an Australian-based contemporary church movement, one of whose trademarks is hit-making contemporary Christian praise. And their service was primarily one long recitation of these praise songs, hands lifted up, swaying, meditative, prayerful, joyful, or simply smiling. Singing like angels.
We have always loved this approach to church, so our little family walked down the stairs to join. It was a relief to sing these songs, whose peculiar gift is that of easy melodies that seem always new, but still familiar after singing them only once. And of course, lyrics of encouragement and wonder, taken often from the Psalms. Since my early experience in the Pentecostal church, I have always been deeply moved by this music. And so it was this evening, standing next to Almut and holding Hannah on my hip, I shed tears of immersion in the familiar and gracious.
And yet, at the same time, I knew there was something askew. I knew this was a movement that had hidden all too human and deeply painful failings: abuse, deception, manipulation. And also a movement whose central doctrines excluded the cultural outcast, the foreigner, the downtrodden, those with whom Jesus broke bread and to whom he brought good news.
And yet, they sang like angels.
Here is the irony and incandescent grace with which I began this meditation. The angels in the Christmas story came with their announcement to the outcast, the shepherds, the ritually unclean and defiled. The angels’ appearance must have been horrifying (why else do they always say “do not fear?”). And yet they appear, with good news, and the lowly shepherds are encouraged and emboldened to go to Bethlehem to see this great thing.
There are angels throughout the Christmas story, most of whom seem completely unaware of the deep human limitations of those they address. They come with news and advice and instructions to propel the story along the arc of the gospel. And these angels sing to the outcast. Even to those who exclude, betray, and oppress others. And that, of course, is all of us. Our failings are all too human. And the grace and the good news of the angels’ song call us to be even more human, more our full selves. Because we are human, we are trapped in our limitations. But we cannot be fully human without embracing the transcendent.
“Because we are human, we are trapped in our limitations. But we cannot be fully human without embracing the transcendent.”
This is what the charismatic leader with the microphone knew. That this peculiar Christmas blessing, “You sing like an angel,” allows one person to call out, to encourage, to embolden the other to embrace the transcendent, to go to Bethlehem and to behold this great thing.
So as a blessing this day, I offer you another transcendent act of wonder and awe: a beautiful recording of J.S. Bach’s introduction to his Christmas Oratorio: Jauchzet! Frohlocket (Rejoice! Exult!) performed at the Dresden Frauenkirche. It is an invitation to let us be moved by heavenly joy in-midst our limitations, sorrows and fears. You can find Almut’s meditation on it and the German and English Lyrics here.
Listen, open your heart, and embrace the call of the angels.
And may Christmas find you where you are,
Chuck with Almut and little one