Heavenly Hosts

When the angel announces to the shepherds that a Savior is born in Bethlehem, Luke records that,"suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace, good will to men.' " (Luke 2:13-14)  Those two verses have been set to music so many times, it is impossible to think of them any other way, despite the lack  of the verb 'singing' in the text. I wonder sometimes how that manifestation appeared to the shepherds, who were invited to be the first witnesses of the birth of the promised Messiah.  Was there a definitive number, huge, but distinct?  Was there a host so large that the limits could not be seen as they stretched out into a mistiness beyond vision (I know, Hollywood) but powerfully real to spirit even beyond eyes?  Who got to be there, and how were they chosen?  What must that have been like to see and experience, from both the fields and the heavens?

Did I get to be part of that?  Was I one of the host singing?  Even if I wasn't with that host I believe I was watching, that we all were, and I don't believe I could have refrained from singing at that moment, even if I was at a far remove.  The meaning of that birth was powerfully immediate to all of creation, there was no spirit being who was unaware.  All of us were riveted.

I want to offer a poem today, it wonders how different things may seem from the outlook of watching or being here.

 

     Preparations

The morning stars sang together

And the sons and daughters of God

Shouted for joy.  Hosanna!

And we were there among them.

We watched Jehovah go down upon the earth;

We saw its form take shape.

We watched our father Adam, mother Eve,

Reverenced the sacrificial choice they made.

We learned and waited, wondered how

We’d make our way abroad.

The birth we saw, we sang again.

We witnessed unto shepherds

And watched the dusty roads

The Son of Man and Lamb of God

Walked upon in Galilee, and waited—

(And wondered what feet and breath were like)

We gathered, stilled, to watch in somber gratitude

The infinite burden of Gethsemane.

Our Father’s grief could not be borne.

We could not understand it all;

We lacked the comprehension of experience,

But knew that every life created

Hung in the balance here

As the cross was lifted on the hill.

And all creation triumphed as he rose!

Soon he must return.

We have been kept, waiting, learning, for this day.

Set apart before we go,

Called to solemn duties of preparation

And sealed with promises of Spirit,

We are filled with awe to know what is to come,

The parts we are to play.

Yet we wonder, when we are there,

How will we be sure?

For memory will be lost.

Our Father’s counsel:  learn and listen; I will lead.

And so we take our leave.

Now we breathe and walk, we learn and feel.

To watch this world around us

Makes clear the choices of evil or light.

The gentlest quiet voice of heaven speaks,

Its whispers resonating at levels deep within.

Truth distills as our knowledge grows,

To center and define our paths.

Following, we understand:

Faith is but remembering

What long ago we knew.

                          (c) Marian J. Stoddard