Hi First Presbyterian Church,

It’s time for our Mid-Week Meet-Up! I love this time of year when we begin singing the traditional Advent and Christmas hymns during worship. It’s been really nice singing “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” as we light the Advent wreath. That hymn is, perhaps, my all-time favorite Advent hymn. Other Advent favorites of mine include “Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus” and “Watchman, Tell Us of the Night.” However, did you know that the hymn “Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence” is also considered an Advent hymn? Every time I hear the hymn, it brings me to tears. Maybe you’re not familiar with the hymn. Here are the lyrics:

Let all mortal flesh keep silence
and with fear and trembling stand;
ponder nothing earthly-minded,
for with blessing in his hand
Christ, our God, to earth descending,
our full homage to demand.

King of kings, yet born of Mary,
as of old on earth he stood,
Lord of lords in human likeness,
in the body and the blood
he will give to all the faithful
his own self for heav’nly food.

Rank on rank the host of heaven
spreads its vanguard on the way
as the Light from Light, descending
from the realms of endless day,
that the pow’rs of hell may vanish
as the darkness clears away.

At his feet the six-winged seraph,
cherubim with sleepless eye,
veil their faces to the presence
as with ceaseless voice they cry:
“Alleluia, alleluia!
Alleluia, Lord Most High!”

The words of this hymn are ancient, probably written in Greek in the third century AD. It describes the two advents (i.e., “comings”) of Christ that we celebrate during this holy season – the first advent of Christ in his birth in Bethlehem (verses 1 and 2 of the hymn) and the second advent of Christ in his future return to earth (verses 3 and 4 of the hymn). We tend to think of Christmas and the birth of Jesus as a peaceful, innocent, and even quaint event. Yet, these ancient words encourage us to approach his birth with “fear and trembling.” What about Christ’s birth is there to fear and tremble? That’s why I like this hymn so much. It reminds me that, as much as the birth of Christ may be peaceful, it is also holy, mysterious, and even a little fearsome (in a similar way to happening upon a grizzly bear in your living room). What could it possibly even mean that the God of the universe has come to our home? The mystery of a triune God is too much to comprehend, let alone that triune God becoming like us in the birth of Jesus. The early Christians called Mary, the mother of Jesus, theotokos, which means “God-bearer.” What could it possibly even mean that a human-being grew in her womb the body that God would inhabit? In the fourth century AD, Athanasius of Alexandria, a church father and theologian, wrote a treatise called On the Incarnation. Referring to Christ as “the Word,” Athanasius said the following:

“The body of the Word, then, being a real human body, in spite of its having been uniquely formed from a virgin, was of itself mortal and, like other bodies, liable to death. But the indwelling of the Word loosed it from this natural liability, so that corruption could not touch it. Thus is happened that two opposite marvels took place at once: the death of all was consummated in the Lord's body; yet, because the Word was in it, death and corruption were in the same act utterly abolished. Death there had to be, and death for all, so that the due of all might be paid. Wherefore, the Word, as I said, being Himself incapable of death, assumed a mortal body, that He might offer it as His own in place of all, and suffering for the sake of all through His union with it, might bring to nought him that had the power of death, that is, the devil, and might deliver them who all their lifetime were enslaved by the fear of death.”

What mystery is this – that both death and eternal life could exist in the person of Jesus Christ? This mystery that God – the creator and giver of life – would also become a mortal human being for our salvation is the point of Christ. I was present when all my children were born, and their births were incredibly spiritual experiences for me. There is something profoundly sacred about witnessing a life coming into the world. Nevertheless, I cannot even fathom the infinite holiness of holding a newborn child in my arms who was himself the very God that created me. It is too much to understand. It causes me to fear and tremble…

I encourage you to reread the words of this moving hymn and contemplate the mystery of Christ’s first coming this Advent and join the angelic chorus: “Alleluia, alleluia! Alleluia, Lord Most High!”

Peace to you,

Pastor Aaron