The Noise of Christmas

I love the words to “Silent Night”, but I don’t really believe them. The night of Jesus’ birth was probably anything but silent—with a town full of travelers, a barn full of animals, a sky full of angels, and the eruption of shepherds running down the dusty streets.

I imagine that night to be a bit more like the World Relief ESL Christmas party I attended a few days back. Celebratory!

I followed brightly dressed South Asian women bearing plastic bags of food up the old church steps. Inside, I was greeted warmly and pointed past a room crowded with aromas.

After meeting a table of Congolese, I found an empty seat with smiling Syrians. I asked what food they brought to the party, and one used her phone to show me photo after photo of fabulous Syrian dishes. Chicken, rice, lamb, cucumbers, tomatoes—all wrapped in various shapes—and piled onto platters. I picked a good group to eat with!

I gazed around me, absorbing the noise and the warmth. Many of the people were wearing ethnic dress, covered by coats and winter hats to keep out the December chill. They sat by class but also by country, laughing and talking loudly in a multitude of languages.

The room was bright and warm with color, smell, noise, and welcome. This is Christmas, and this is how it should be. Anything but silent!

A handful of small children appeared on the stage holding jingle bells. They waved their arms and sang to us, one little boy with bells in each fist staring at the floor. Finally he gained confidence and joined in near the end, waving and jingling wildly even after the others were done. I think of how like him the adults must feel in this new culture—initially shy, increasing in confidence. That day I saw them in the bell-ringing mood—one of joy.

Hand drums were produced and drummers welcomed to the front. An Iraqi man and woman volunteered. The man wore a t-shirt plastered with the American flag which read, “Made in America 2016”, and the woman wore a hand knit scarf and matching hat of yellow. Their drumming was exuberant and life-giving.

After the time of music, we shuffled to the other room to fill small paper plates with food. I tried some yellow rice, shawarma, and creamy salad made with apples and chicken. A tiny Asian lady scooped a giant portion of noodles onto my already full plate, and I smiled at her. I love and share her joy of feeding others.

I returned to my table and spoke with an older Syrian woman. She told me of her eight children, now spread between Egypt, Holland, Jordan, and America. They have borne her seventeen grandchildren, only two of whom live here. She sees the others only on her phone. Her own siblings—two sisters and four brothers—reside in Holland, France, and Germany. I asked if they all once lived together in Syria, and she says yes. I asked how many they all made when together, and she laughed and says, “Many, many!”

I cannot imagine her sadness over the oceans between them now. The daughter in Jordan she hasn’t seen for two years and nine months. That is a long time to be separated from family, especially if you don’t know when you may see them again.

A younger Syrian woman on my other side told me of her four children and one on the way. I asked if this baby will be the first born to her in America, and she smiled and told me how here she has to see the doctor all the time but it wasn’t that way in Syria. “Doctor, doctor, doctor,” she says, shaking her head. “Baby good, me good, blood pressure, sugar test…always appointments in America.” I wonder at the other differences between our two countries, and I laughed with her over our fussy healthcare.

I think of these beautiful women—sojourners. I think of the one carrying a child, and how she is so far from family and all that is familiar. Like Mary, the mother of Jesus.

I listened to the melodies of drums, of voices, of laughter, and I imagined that first night of Jesus’ birth, that small stable filled with shepherds and animals, townspeople and smells. What was it like?

It wasn’t silent, and neither was this party. I praise God for sending his Son to dwell among us, a sojourner himself like my ESL friends.  I praise him for the noise of love and welcome, the noise of Christmas!