Isaiah 9 and Luke 2
This past year, where have we heard some good news? Good news that has stopped us in our tracks, caused our hearts to sing and our voices to cheer?
The release of Taylor Swift’s new album, The Life of a Showgirl?
Sunderland being promoted to the Premier League via a last-minute winner at Wembley?
The Lionesses winning the Euro final in Basel?
Shares in the big tech company Nvidia going up 30%?
Or the release of series 5 of Stranger Things?
Where have we heard some good news?
Perhaps the good news has been closer to home. News of exams passed, a job secured, hospital tests coming back all clear. Good news heard more personally, but cheered nevertheless.
Yet sometimes the good news is difficult to hear. Drowned out by the realities of sin and strife with which this world has suffered long. For man is still at war with man, in Sudan, in Ukraine, in Gaza, Israel and the West Bank. The Christmas tree may be lit in Bethlehem this year, but peace on earth is yet to come, there in the Palestinian territories or on Bondi beach and other places of terrorism and violence.
And this sadness comes to our front doors. In the realities of grief and loss, in relationships fractured, in political promises over-believed and under-delivered, in the divisions stoked by social media algorithms that bring out the worst in us and not the best, and in anxieties about how, emotionally or financially, we and those whom we love will keep our heads above water.
Amid the noise it is hard to hear some good news.
Yet we are here, tonight, in Durham Cathedral. Here in a place where for dozens of generations people have gathered to hear good news, to listen, as the old carol puts it, to that glorious song of old. Angels bending near the earth and singing to shepherds a love-song from God the creator of the universe, now revealed in Jesus Christ.
A love-song heard in a baby’s gurgles – Jesus showing God in dependent, human form.
A love-song heard in a teacher’s voice – Jesus speaking to all who would hear of life in the kingdom of God.
A love-song heard in a Saviour’s cries – Jesus giving his life on the cross, and bearing the weight of human sin.
A love-song heard in an Easter morning shout – He is risen! And death itself will be no more.
Heavenly music sung over a weary world. Sung that night on a hillside outside Bethlehem and sung for two thousand years since, in Bethlehem, where the minority Christian community gather still tonight, and in Durham where these stones have soaked in this love-song for over 900 years.
This is a song worth stopping for, attending to, for this is nothing other than God breaking into his world with the good news of his love. The climax of our service tonight will see the choir sing of God’s glory as the Christ-child is placed in the crib scene, and then our final carol will be interrupted, broken into, with this wonderful news of God’s eternal Word, told so memorably by St John.
And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.
Over thirty years ago, when I was still exploring faith, I clearly remember a friend called Mark telling me that this was his favourite verse in the whole Bible. ‘It says it all’ he remarked, and over time I came to see what he meant. For this divine breaking in, this godly interruption in the person of Jesus Christ, is the love-song we are invited to hear, tonight, in Durham Cathedral. For the first time, for the fifty-first time.
A song more beautiful than any singer in this world can offer.
A song most enduring, and reliable, than any football crowd’s cheer.
A song more promising than any high-tech innovation.
A song more gripping than any series finale.
In a society grasping for hope and struggling for identity, this is the song we are invited to hear. It will not wipe away our struggles, but it will change our hearts.
For here’s the most wonderful thing. We get to join in the song. The angels were not giving a performance the shepherds were simply expected to applaud. The shepherds were rather invited to go to Bethlehem, to see Jesus and make that love-song their own.
The angel’s love-song is a song we are invited not only to hear but to sing, with our lips and in our lives. Durham Cathedral has for hundreds of years invited people not only to hear but also to worship, to bow the knee and say of the vulnerable baby, the truth-filled man, the crucified Saviour, the risen Christ – you are Lord. It is a place where people have brought that most precious gift, themselves, and offered themselves in response to the love-song they have heard.
Tonight we are invited to bring ourselves, however we are, in response to the love-song we have heard afresh. Perhaps at the Lord’s table to draw near to Christ in receiving bread and wine. Perhaps to come forward and receive God’s blessing which we would be delighted to share with you. Perhaps come back in the New Year for our Explore evenings and find out more.
Wherever we find ourselves in faith tonight, we are all here in Durham Cathedral, not by accident, but invited with all who have gone before us to hear good news, to hear a love-song sung to a weary world, and to make our response, this night and for all that lies ahead.
Yea, Lord, we greet thee,
Born this happy morning,
Jesus, to thee be glory given;
Word of the Father,
Now in flesh appearing;
O come, let us adore him,
O come, let us adore him,
O come, let us adore him,
Christ the Lord!
Amen