“The Gift of Light”

Christmas Eve, 2004 -- HMPC

Isaiah 9: 2 – 7  

I.

            St. Augustine, perhaps the greatest father of the church, wrote of this Christmas night, this joyous celebration of hope above hope and joy above joy:

            “Rejoice you just, it is the birthday of the Justifier.

            Rejoice you who are weak and sick; it is the birthday of the Savior, the Healer.

            Rejoice, captives:  it is the birthday of the Redeemer.

            Rejoice, slaves:  it is the birthday of the One who makes you lords.

            Rejoice, free people; it is the birthday of the one who makes you free.

            Rejoice, all Christians; it is the birthday of Christ.”[1]

            I don’t know if I personally have a favorite Christmas quotation, but if I did, these words of Augustine would certainly qualify for the championship heat.

            Similarly, I cannot name a favorite Christmas scripture, but there are a few that round the last lap with a chance to win the gold.  Among them these words from Isaiah 9, immortalized by Handel in his masterpiece The Messiah:

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness -- on them light has shined.  You have multiplied the nation, you have increased its joy; they rejoice before you as with joy at the harvest, as people exult when dividing plunder.  For the yoke of their burden, and the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor, you have broken as on the day of Midian. For all the boots of the tramping warriors and all the garments rolled in blood shall be burned as fuel for the fire. For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. His authority shall grow continually, and there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom. He will establish and uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time onward and forevermore. The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this.

II.

            Before Christmas is about anything else, it is, I think about light.  The gospel of John understands this in its great preamble – though it neglects a story of Jesus’ birth it does tell us this about his arrival and coming among us (John 1: 2-5):  “He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people.  The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”  Christmas is the light of Angels, the light of the star, that light of revelation to Mary and Joseph, the light of hope that comes with the good news of Jesus for all peoples.

            Somewhere in time, I think this is why Christmas lights starting being hung on homes:  to light the night, as a reminder to the hope of Christ.  I don’t think it is overstepping my bounds to say that we have a few abusers of the Christmas light imperative here in Tarboro – I think when ones nocturnal luminescence is so great that one can see your house from the Moon that the focus on the life of Christ and his birth in Bethlehem has somewhere gotten lost.

III.

            Over and over again the larger culture incorporates, inculcates, and corroborates little bits of the Jesus story to fit its ends.  Overtime, Christmas which once meant thinking about why God had to come to set the world right in Jesus Christ, has become something very, very different.  So much so that one wonders how much of it now resembles its old self – like a restored painting or a refurbished home:  the original genius is still there but it is difficult to know precisely where the original artists brush fell.

            And so we read about babies born on Highway 264 during a blizzard and our hearts are warmed.  We hear legends of the Candy Cane, about the little match-stick girl or the little drummer boy and about goodness that breaks forth in the world somehow.  We go to more parties, and we offer gracious hugs and kisses.  We listen more to children and pay them more attention.  We send cards with warm wishes and beautiful prayers for blessings and greetings.  We watch on the Today show about a man who is giving away 20,000 bicycles to children this Christmas and we hear about the Marines collecting toys for Millions of Children, and we know that all these things have something to do with Christmas.

            The question that scripture begs us to ask, though, is slightly different.  It is not whether these cultural practices are good or bad, it is whether or not they are sufficient as purveyors of grace, as voices of joy, as sources of hope.  Does their light shine bright enough to break the darkness of the shadow of even death itself?

IV.

            Two years ago, in Charlotte, as my son approached his first Birthday I prepared to preach on a Wednesday.  Forecasters were on the computer and on the radio and on the television predicting an apocalyptic winter storm.  I, at the last minute, changed my sermon to reflect the urgency of the storm, and the quasi-reliability of the forecasters – I made fun of the so-called ‘weather-geeks.’

            Well, that night, Mother Nature had her laugh with me.  The snow, rain, sleet mixture began to fall late in the afternoon.  By 8 PM it was an ice deluge.  And by 4 AM the next morning I awoke to the sound of popping and crashing.  Trees, big and small, old and young were falling all over the city, and all around our neighborhood.  The sound was terrible.  I remember going to the window and flicking on the outside light to find a tree downed in our backyard.  I walked through the house.  Trees were completely blocking the road.

            I remember thinking, “At least we still have power,” and then only moments later there was a loud pop, a louder crash, and a blue flash that blinded me for a moment:  and then darkness and total quiet.  There was no power.  There was no light.

            Things quickly became absurd.  I couldn’t find a flashlight.  I stubbed a toe.  We thought about breakfast but could cook nothing.  We had to wait for the dawn to dress.  In other words, we were paralyzed by the darkness and we remained that way for ten days.  Thanks to the generosity of friends, we soon had light and warmth as we sought shelter with them.

V.

            Darkness is paralyzing.  It literally makes us stop.  There is no coincidence that we begin to see light in the womb as infants – we will need light to survive and prosper.  We are not creatures who are created nocturnally.  We must have light.

            In the world in which we live, light has become a precious commodity.  Not because of its absence but because of the presence of darkness.  The darkness of war.  The darkness of famine.  The darkness of disease.  The darkness of terrorism.  The darkness of poverty.  The darkness of racial struggle.  The very darkness of death itself.  If you want to see what the darkness looks like, see its face, I suggest the WRAL news – take your pick of the time of day.  Even at noon the darkness there comes through.

            Strangely enough, the darkness also can come from perceived light – light that is good light in some ways, but doesn’t have the wattage to keep real shadows at bay.  The News and Observer two weeks ago reprinted a piece from the Los Angeles Times, written by Emily Green makes my point better than I can.  She writes, “As a discreetly lapsed Protestant, I should disapprove [of] the commercialization of Christmas.  Tsk.  Whatever happened to slowly adding brandy to the fruitcake, Advent Calendars, a church service, a meal and perhaps a carol or two?  A miracle, that’s what.  Advent calendars are no replacement for Sarah Jessica Parker in a fuzzy Gap sweater.”  She continues, “Left to its original brief, Christmas would quietly come and go in a worshipful way.  Scarves, candles, garnets, a bicycle horn, a bottle of hooch – that’s the spirit.  A Target ad, that’s the hymn.”[2]

            For better or worse (she apparently is quite happy) it seems to me that she’s walking in a darkness of sorts.  It is a darkness caused by complacency, greed, and excess and its one that you and I can easily fall into. 

VI.

            Now, I wish I could adopt her Gap-filled Christmas vibe – her joy of excess and consumerist Target-ad world view.  Such an adoption might cause me to spend less time worrying about the state of the world and the health of my soul.  But, I cannot.  James Howell, a Methodist minister in Charlotte writing about preaching at Christmas writes, “We clergy are oddly obliged to insinuate ourselves into the dizzying round of raucous parties and frenzied shopping with our boring reminders about Jesus.”[3]  And that is what I am here, thankfully I should say, to do on this Christmas Eve.

            Jesus Christ is the light of the world.  He is the comfort in every darkness and his birth signals that the deep darknesses of sin and pain, of famine and plague do not have a stranglehold on humankind.  His birth is the proclamation of His very light.  The question that fronts is challenging:  do we even realize that we need His light in our lives?  In other words, if the angels came to you tonight on your way home would you drop everything – traditions, gifts, commitments – like those shepherds in their darkness to run and see the baby born?  Would you walk for days like the Magi from the East?  Or, would God’s gift to us in Him, this precious gift of light, go unused and unappreciated like so many of our Christmas gifts do each and every year?

VII.

            I hope and pray not.  Please don’t mistake this message – embracing the light of Jesus does not mean that there will be no more darkness in our lives.  It does mean that God is with us no matter how terrible it all might become and that our faith in Jesus is like a lantern that never exhausts its fuel, keeping the darkness somehow at bay; helping us to never become hopelessly lost.

            Miroslav Volf, a Balkan by birth and a teacher at Yale Divinity School recently took this Isaiah text into consideration.  He writes about this tension between darkness and light, and the light that God provides:  “This is what Christmas is all about – something radically new that cannot be generated out of the conditions of this world.  It does not emerge.  It comes.  We do not extrapolate it.  God promises it.  If darkness has descended upon you and your world, you need not try to persuade yourself that things are not as bad as they seem or search desperately for reasons to be optimistic.  Remind yourself of this simple fact:  the light of the One who was in the beginning with God shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”[4]

            That is as fine a word as any I know.  And the hope of Jesus, though shop-worn the claim might sometimes be, is the great light of the world.  May we all take this to heart, and be filled with His Christmas light.  Joy to the world, the Lord is born, let Earth receive her King.

“Rejoice you just, it is the birthday of the Justifier.

            Rejoice you who are weak and sick; it is the birthday of the Savior, the Healer.

            Rejoice, captives:  it is the birthday of the Redeemer.

            Rejoice, slaves:  it is the birthday of the One who makes you lords.

            Rejoice, free people; it is the birthday of the one who makes you free.

            Rejoice, all Christians; it is the birthday of Christ.”[5]

 

Amen.

 

 

 

 

 



[1] As quoted from scholar John Witvilet, on Christianitytoday.com, 12/22/2004, “Preaching the Christmas Gospel.”

[2] Emily Green.  “Can the Carols…Give Me Sarah Jessica Parker,” LA Times, December 10, 2004

[3] James Howell.  “What I Want for Christmas” 

[4] Miroslav Volf.  “Not Optimistic.”  The Christian Century, December 28, 2004.

[5] As quoted from scholar John Witvilet, on Christianitytoday.com, 12/22/2004, “Preaching the Christmas Gospel.”