On December 24th I conducted a candlelight service to celebrate the night before Christmas.
As a result, I pondered on the familiar Christmas poem, “A Visit from St. Nicholas,” that captures the imagination of every child when they hear it. The night before Christmas and all through the house . . .
This poem was written by Clement Clarke Moore in 1822. Moore was born in 1779, the only child of heiress Charity Clarke and Dr. Benjamin Moore, Episcopal Bishop of NY, rector of Trinity Church and president of Columbia College. Clement graduated first in his class at Columbia and was a respected scholar of Oriental and Greek Literature as well as Divinity and Biblical Learning.
At the age of 42, he wrote the poem, but it wasn’t until he was 65 that he acknowledged being its author. It is purported that he was embarrassed by it and how it overshadowed his scholarly work, including a Hebrew lexicon, the first of its kind in America.
A lowly poem written in the 18th century enduring into the 21st century.
A baby born more than 2000 years ago . . .
I ponder the night before Christmas and marvel at the holiness of the moment. We celebrate the nativity through all the steps that lead to the birth of Christ, a child born in a stable, a manger for his bed.
I wonder at the confluence of the story: the majesty of angelic choirs with the lowliness of a stable, the visitation of poor shepherds with wise and mighty kings, the birth of a Savior followed by the slaughter of innocents — it is all so profound and inclusive, something so lowly, and yet so majestic for all time.
This small simple, human act of giving birth has the ramification to topple kingdoms. A small, tender poem resonates through the centuries. It is in the small and insignificant that rings through eternity.