Christmas was a noisy day in Martin Luther’s home. And Luther’s home was already a noisy place! The Black Cloister—the former monastery given to Luther and his family—housed more than three dozen people. In addition to Luther, his wife, and their six children, there were seven orphaned nieces and nephews as well as servants, guests, refugees, student boarders, and visitors. As one visitor described it, “A random mess and crowd of young students, maidens, widows, old maids, and children constantly occupy the house of Dr. Luther, and because of that crowd there is a great commotion.” Every day the house resounded with the dissonance and symphony of so many bodies, souls, and voices: the laughter and chaos of children playing, the raucous jokes and debates of students and theologians, the clip of commands in the kitchen and servants’ quarters, the din of dishes, the shuffle of chairs, the tromping of feet, the yip and yap of beasts. And on Christmas, all this commotion boiled over with the joy and gladness of the incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ. The usual voices of German and Latin—accented at times with visitors’ foreign tongues: English, Italian, even Amharic—were raised with the song of the angels: “Glory to God in the highest and peace on earth and goodwill towards men” (Luke 2:14, my translation of the Luther Bibel 1545 throughout). Around this hymn burst out an entire household’s prayer, praise, and thanksgiving. At the center of this great choir of song and sound, praise and blessing was the choirmaster: Luther himself. “Sing, dear children!” he shouted. “Sing of the dear newborn little baby!” (WATR 5:216–17, no. 5528, my translation of the Weimar edition throughout). Responses to the Good News of Christmas Luther knew his house’s joy and gladness weren’t normal: “Very few people sing” (WATR 5.217.3, no. 5528). He highlighted two pairs of contrasting responses to our Lord’s incarnation: rebel or rejoice, mock or give thanks. 1. In response to Jesus’s birth, we can rebel like the demons or rejoice like the angels. Luther believed the incarnation enraged Satan and his minions. It’s the reason they rebelled. Satan was jealous and resentful. How could God pass over his high and holy creatures, the angels, and join himself to creatures made of dust and mud? From the beginning, Satan sought to stop Jesus’s being born of Mary. “His tail swept down a third of the stars of heaven and cast them to the earth. And the dragon stood before the woman who shall give birth, so that when she gave birth he might devour her child” (Rev. 12:4). Sooner than worship a man of dust from the earth, he chose hell, leading a third of heaven with him (see LW 58:193–94 and 22:103). At the center of this great choir of song and sound, praise and blessing was the choirmaster: Luther himself. In contrast, the angels laugh for joy and sing praises that God would stoop so low for the blessing and honor of his creation (WA 34/II:494). These heavenly theologians proclaim this good news in simple words for shepherds and children. “[The angels] have rejoiced for our sake,” Luther said, “and their song is indeed a beautiful song. In it the whole Christian faith is given in brief” (WATR 4:197–98, no. 4201). The Christ child is the great treasure the angels have longed to see, even though the treasure isn’t for their benefit but for us and for our salvation (1 Pet. 1:12). 2. In response to Jesus’s birth, we can mock like the philosophers or give thanks like the Virgin Mary. According to reason, nothing is more ridiculous than that Redeemer and Savior of the world—God himself—should be born a weak, little baby (WATR 6:94, no. 6645). “What?!” the philosophers protest. “Shall the pure God sink into filth?” (WA 34/II:492). For the philosophers, this is simply too foolish. The Maker of heaven and earth is too pure to enter creation, let alone to put on the flesh of dust and earth, to sleep and sweat, to bleed and defecate—to die. Even if the Christian faith said nothing more than that God was born a baby, the philosophers would never stop laughing at us (WA 34/II:494). In contrast, Mary gives thanks, for here is God: the little baby whom she holds and nurses and rocks to sleep (WA 34/II:493). God couldn’t come closer to us than he does in Jesus Christ. He shares our flesh, blood, and bone. And so, she sings, “My soul magnifies the Lord. . . . For the Mighty One has done great things to me, and holy is his name” (Luke 1:46, 49). But the most common human response isn’t any of these. It’s indifference: We receive this news, Luther says, as a sip of beer—how we receive all of God’s good gifts, actually—like cows with their big, dumb eyes trampling beautiful flowers in the field. We don’t want God with us—we would rather have riches! We would praise a king who washes feet, but here is the Maker of heaven and earth descending not just into creation but into earth and into human flesh (WA 34/II:494–95, 499; WATR 4:197–98, no. 4201; WATR 5:90, 94, no. 5360). And in response to this gift—greater than every work of creation—we’re tepid and lazy. “It’s silent now,” Luther mourns, “in Turkey, Judea, Greece, and the greater part of Germany” (WATR 5:217.2–3, no. 5528). Sing! Not by Your Reason or Strength “Sing, dear children!” Luther told his household. “Sing of the dear newborn little baby!” (WATR 5:216–17, no. 5528). This is the fitting response to the incarnation of our Lord. What else will do? We men and women sit in darkness, crying out in the distress and sorrow of this world ruled by sin, death, and the Devil. And, look! The Maker of heaven and earth has sent his Word to deliver us. His Word become flesh—a little baby in Mary’s arms. Luther expressed it this way: “The Son of the eternal God humbled himself so deeply; he was born so poor and meek. And all this he did on account of our sin” (WATR 5.93, no. 5360). Jesus came to take our sin and death and condemnation, and in exchange to give us himself—his forgiveness, life, and salvation. ‘Sing, dear children!’ Luther told his household. ‘Sing of the dear newborn little baby!’ This is the fitting response to the incarnation. This is the good news. God himself for us men and for our salvation came down from heaven and was incarnate by the Holy Spirit of the Virgin Mary and was made man. He was crucified also for us under Pontius Pilate. He suffered and was buried. And on the third day, he rose again. It’s pure foolishness to the world, but for those who believe it’s God’s wisdom and might. “By it we are made holy,” Luther observed, “and therefore the dear angels rejoice and delight!” (WATR 5:94, no. 5360). To join the joy and delight of the angels is a gift from God alone. “We cannot fully express these words [of the Gloria in excelsis Deo],” Luther confessed, “but only stammer about them” (LW 58:192). It’s the greatest art and wisdom of Christians—a work of the Holy Spirit (WATR 5:93, no. 5360). Lord, let no tongue on earth be silent, every voice in concert ring: “Glory to God in the highest and peace on earth and goodwill towards men.”