The Prince of Peace Wants It To Happen Again
During the height of the Second World War there was a prisoner-of-war camp near the town of Warrington, England. Like all English towns during the war years, Warrington was blacked out at night to avert possible German air attacks. When Christmas approached, no colored lights lit up windows and trees.
And so, as the Catholics of Warrington trudged through the streets to Midnight Mass, no Christmas lights lit their way. By 11:30 the church was filled except for the front three rows on each side. Promptly at 11:50 a group of German and Italian prisoners filed into the church, flanked by armed guards, and filled the empty rows. At 11:55 Fr. Rochford, the parish priest, appeared and announced to the congregation that he had bad news. The Mass would have to be celebrated without music. The parish’s only organist had taken ill. A groan rose up from the congregation.
At this point a German prisoner turned to a guard and said something. The guard went up and spoke to Fr. Rochford. The priest nodded his head in agreement. Then the prisoner went over to the organ and sat down. Slowly and reverently he began to play in a way that brought tears to the eyes of everyone in the church.
That night, despite the darkened streets and windows, the spirit of Christmas lit up the town of Warrington in a way that people would never forget. That night in Warrington, people—friends and enemies—saw each other as God intended them to be: one family. That night in Warrington, the words of the prophet Isaiah, which we have heard during this Advent season, came alive for the people of Warrington: “The wolf shall be a guest of the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; the calf and the young lion shall browse together with a little child to guide them. The cow and the bear shall be neighbors, together their young shall rest.” That night, the Prince of Peace came to the people of Warrington.
We enjoy stories of enemies becoming friends, particularly when, as in the case of Warrington, many years have passed and have dimmed the pain and tragedy of war, and the enemies of that conflict have been our friends and allies ever since. But when we are in the midst of war, as our Nation is now, when the enemies are still enemies, when we are “at war” with members of our families, our colleagues or neighbors, then stories like that of Warrington seem like fairy tales: simplistic, saccharine, and devoid of reality.
But that’s why we need stories like that of Warrington: to remind us that the Prince of Peace who rested in that town so many years ago, is the same Prince of Peace that comes to us on Christmas night. If He could bring together in peace enemies literally at war with one another, can He not come again this Christmas and let His peace rest upon us? Upon the world now in armed conflict in Russia and Ukraine, with terrorist attacks unleashing death, fear and mistrust in the US? Upon our families, our friends, colleagues and neighbors? Upon all the grudges, bad memories, mistrust and hurt that lies so near the surface in so many of our relationships? When we call Jesus, the Prince of Peace, it is not so much a title of who He is, as it is a description of what He does, not just in the past, not just in Warrington, but also in Jamestown, Windsor, and Buchanan, and in you and me. May the Prince of Peace reign in our hearts this Christmas.