I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day

The 19th Century poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow is one of America's best
known writers.  He is the author of such famous quotes as "into each life a
little rain must fall" and "in this world you are either an anvil or
hammer."  On Christmas Day 1864, Longfellow wrote a poem which became a
popular carol, and the story behind the poem is the story I want to tell you
tonight.  

That Christmas Longfellow was in the throes of a particularly difficult
period in his life.  His wife Fanny perished in a tragic fire three years
earlier while she was tending to family matters in their Cambridge,
Massachusetts home.  She had trimmed the hair of one of her daughters and
decided to preserve a few locks in sealing wax.  Her dress passed too close
to a nearby candle and ignited in flames fueled by wax that had dripped onto
the material.  Fanny Longfellow fled the room where her children where
gathered and ran to her husband's study.  He attempted to smother the fire,
first with a small rug and then with his own body, but he was not able to
save her life.  In the process Longfellow was so severely burned that he was
not able to attend the burial service.  

After that truly horrific event Longfellow was no longer able to produce
public writing.  His own personal journals give us insight into his state of
mind and spirit.  The first Christmas after Fanny's death, he wrote, "How
inexpressibly sad are all holidays."  On the first anniversary of her death,
he journaled, "I can make no record of these days.  Better leave them
wrapped in silence.  Perhaps someday God will give me peace."  Longfellow's
entry for December 25, 1862 reads: "'A merry Christmas' say the children,
but that is no more for me."

Then, in March 1863, Longfellow learned that his oldest son, Charles
Appleton Longfellow, secretly enlisted in the Union Army without his
blessing.  In early December came word that Charles was severely wounded at
the Battle of New Hope Church here in Virginia.  He had been shot below the
shoulder blade and the bullet did damage to his spinal column.  Charles
returned to the Longfellow home in Cambridge for a lengthy, uncertain
recovery.  That Christmas Longfellow wrote nothing at all in his journal.  

A year later, on Christmas Day 1864, he ventured out for a stroll.  All
around Cambridge church bells were ringing with the message "Peace on earth,
goodwill toward men."  It struck Longfellow that peace and goodwill had been
neither his own experience nor that of the nation as a whole.  The Civil War
was in its third year.  Hundreds of thousands had been killed with many more
injured.  On that Christmas morning, families were separated from loved ones
precisely because the peace on earth proclaimed by the church bells did not
exist.  As he walked and as he listened, Longfellow reflected on his own
loss and on the losses of our nation.  His mood was sour, the antithesis of
the message ringing throughout the community.  

But something happened during that walk.  Something changed for Longfellow.
When he got home he sat down in his study and for the first time since
Fanny's death began to write.  He produced a poem called "Christmas Bells",
which twenty-some years later, was reconfigured into a carol we now know as
"I heard the bells on Christmas Day":

   I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day
   Their old familiar carols play,
      And wild and sweet 
      the words repeat
   Of peace on earth, good will to men.

   I thought how, as the day had come,
   The belfries of all Christendom
      Had rolled along 
     the unbroken song
   Of peace on earth, good will to men.

   And in despair I bowed my head:
   "There is no peace on earth," I said,
      "For hate is strong 
      and mocks the song
   Of peace on earth, good will to men."

   Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
   "God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;
      The wrong shall fail, 
      the right prevail,
   With peace on earth, good will to men."

   Till, ringing singing, on its way,
   The world revolved from night to day,
      A voice, a chime, 
      a chant sublime,
   Of peace on earth, good will to men!

At the heart of Christmas is the good news of Emmanuel - God with us.  The
'with us' part will change throughout our lives: where we will be, who will
and who will not be with us, what we are able and not able to do. all of
this can and will change.  What is constant is that God is with us no matter
what our circumstance.  God's presence endures all things.  It took
Longfellow nearly four years to be able to come back to it, but he did.  And
he found a moving way to speak about his myriad of emotions and recovery of
faith in the midst of national pain and personal loss.

I think tonight about families in Newtown, CT, in Webster, NY, and in so
many areas of our country directly affected by heinous, violent crime and
imagine that this is a difficult night.  Their world has changed in a
devastating way, much as Longfellow's had been.  Their loss mocks the
message of Christmas, but that does not silence our bells or what we
Christians proclaim: "God is with us, peace on earth and goodwill to all."

Two Sundays ago I said in my sermon that the tragedy in Connecticut had
connected me with the season of Advent as never before.  Its themes of light
in the midst of darkness, joy in the midst of sorrow, and hope in the midst
of despair are exactly what we need to hear right now.  Tonight I embrace
the Christmas message that God is with us; becoming present when it is
darkest, when we are most sad, when we are in deep despair.  God's Son was
not born under cushy circumstances to a life of sheltered privilege.  God
came to be with us in some of the most challenging circumstances imaginable.
Why?  Because that is when and where we most need God to be with us, when
life is tough.

I am struck by the parallels between Longfellow's sadness and where our
country finds itself this Christmas; the parallels of personal loss, of
communal tragedy, and national grief in the midst of war.  Longfellow
experienced a rebirth if you will because the churches around him proclaimed
the good news of Emmanuel - God with us and peace on earth.  Yes, I took
three mournful Christmases for the bells to break through Longfellow's
darkness, but eventually his night turned to day.  

This Christmas, perhaps more than any other I can recall, I am honored to be
a part of the church and feel so incredibly hopeful about the impact we have
simply by proclaiming the good news: "A voice, a chime, a chant sublime, of
peace on earth, good will to men!"  Longfellow wasn't revived by a slick
sermon or stately prayer.  He was restored because, in multiple churches
around Cambridge, various people took the time on Christmas day to pull
ropes connected to church bells.  

Never underestimate the healing power in the hands of the church present
every time we gather to be the church.  We never know how and when our
simple proclamation of "God is with us, peace on earth and goodwill to all"
will give birth to light and joy and hope.  But we know that if we do not
say it, if the bells rest silent, if the message is not proclaimed, then God
has lost a powerful voice to remind people of God's loving presence.

My prayer is that you will experience the heart of Christmas in a renewing
and profound way.  If you walk in sadness, I pray that this may be a time
when ringing singing revolves your night to day.  If you find yourself in a
daytime moment of light and rejoicing, I pray that your very life will be a
witness to the heart of Christmas.  The message of God with us is one we all
we need to hear in every possible way it can be said.  How will you say it?