Countries
at war, a tripledemic, a housing crisis, inflation, Sometimes it feels like
forever, like things will always be this way, that we are helpless in these
difficult days. We just celebrated the
winter solstice, the longest night of the year, the day with the least daylight
in our hemisphere—8 hours and 42 minutes of daylight, for the 21st,
the 22nd, the 23rd, and today. Over 15 hours of darkness for four days in a
row and gaining just 28 seconds of light over those 4 days. Sometimes we sit in the cold and darkness and
it feels like it will always be this way.
We live in our grief and it feels permanent. We live with family division, national
division and it feels like it will always be this way. We see the news, the refugees fleeing, the
income inequality, people bankrupted by medical bills and it feels like it will
always be this way.
The Emperor was Augustus and the
Governor was Quirinius and it seemed it would always be this way—an occupied
land, an oppressive empire. These are
the people who thought they were in charge, who were at the center of
everything and who had built systems to ensure that they and their relatives
and friends would always take central place.
In this cold and bleak world of our
Gospel story, we see a scattering of people, traveling for the census. Joseph, a carpenter with some distant link to
Kings of days long past. Mary, a
pregnant mother to be, a seemingly ordinary family sticking close together so
the parentage of their child would not be up for debate, so they could support
one another through this challenging time, so that they would not be in
violation of Roman law, of those who seemed like they would rule forever.
Into this family was born a most
vulnerable baby—far from home, with little support—no aunts to deliver him, no
grandma to rock him, no midwife to show Mary how to help him latch. Into this bleak world a child was born,
naked, hungry, no possessions, no defense, no wealth, no crib for his bed. This is the gift God offers at Christmas when
it seems like things will always be this way—a vulnerable, helpless baby. What difference can this possibly make?
This baby, like all the vulnerable,
is God with us. What seems strong and
permanent (Caesar and Empires and governments and warfare) is revealed as
temporary. What seems small and
vulnerable is revealed as eternal and holy.
This is the day all our priorities, all our fears and selfishness, all
our so-called strength and might, is turned on its head, at the birth of a
helpless child.
The savior of the world has always
been here—at creation, bringing growth, leading the people in the wilderness,
gathering a scattered people, giving hope when all seemed hopeless. God was always bringing the grace, the love,
the chance to start again, the chance to be close to God. But people want to hoard all that goodness
for themselves, out of fear and greed and selfishness. When God came to us in human form we learned
what God is willing to do to show us that God has always been with us and that
we are not alone, we are not better than other people. This is what God is willing to do to turn our
world around, to shape our priorities away from ourselves to the very smallest
and helpless of all. This is what God is
willing to do to show us that it won’t always be this way—so bleak and cold, so
violent and unforgiving, so unjust, so cruel.
This time of the year we talk about
the coming of the light and we give thanks in darkness, two parts of a
beautiful world we live in. The nights
are long, and that gives us the time we need to ponder this gift. The seed lies in the darkness of the earth,
and that is what it needs to prepare to burst forth. Jacob wrestled in the dark with God and with
his regrets regarding his twin brother and he received a blessing and a new
name. In creation, God blessed the
darkness and the light and called them good.
Abraham had many conversations with God in the darkness which was the
best time to see the stars shining and receive the promise that he would become
the father of many nations. Samuel received his calling in the night to become
a prophet. The disciples gathered with
Jesus at the last supper as darkness fell and they remembered God rescuing the Israelites,
guiding them with a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. Darkness opens us to God’s blessing.
So we are all invited to receive
this gift—shepherds, foreign magi, people of all nations, receiving the gift of
the darkness and the light, the gift of things not always being this way, the
gift of the people who think they are in charge being revealed as oblivious,
and ordinary people called to the manger to witness something so extraordinary,
new life, vulnerability, the smallest little nobody, the light of the world,
shining in the darkness.
I had a chance to visit Nicaragua
years ago. Many people there live in
poverty and vulnerability. When we hear
that many people live on a dollar or two per day, we struggle to understand what
that means. For the people I met, they
grew their food and foraged it from the abundant fruit trees and plants all
around. They knew the richness of
growing their own food, raising chickens, and caring for the land. They shared with each other. There were 10 of us in our group and one
restaurant was not equipped for so many so the restaurant next door rushed to
fill the need. And for each candle that
was lit, it was placed on a little mirror—the easiest way to multiply the gift
of the coming light. There was a time
that candles and mirrors lit the stage for Shakespeare. Because we live in such comfort we have
forgotten the ways of multiplying the light.
We are each mirrors with the capability of shining the light. We are each in the image and likeness of our
creator, generous, just, unafraid, vulnerable, forgiving, loving, and
creative. Jesus by shining his light
from the manger, from the field, from among the poor and forgotten, to the
hungry and despairing, to the ones who hide behind weapons and violence, to the
places and people who have compassion and work together in solidarity. This is the one who shines the light from the
cross on those accused and sentenced and executed to give them new life This is the one who shines a light to show us
our own vulnerability to see that we’re all the same, we’re all in need and
afraid and susceptible to illness. We
all face death. We all have regrets. We are all sinners. And we’re also all members of God’s
family. We’re all gathered around the
manger tonight, shepherds invited, aunts and uncles and grannies and papas and
friends because Jesus is welcoming us by his light. He’s putting up no barriers.
But without these long nights, we
would never know we needed the light of the world and we would never learn how
to reflect it.
On a night when it seems like it
will always be this way, Jesus is saying it hasn’t always been. God did not create the world to be divided
and violent and we are called to reflect the Kingdom, the love and light of God. There is another way and this is what it
looks like and it will be. Come to the
manger and see and then go out and live in a new way.
Tomorrow is a new day. There will be like 30 seconds more of light
in our day and the day after that more.
The sap is moving around in the trees, the bulbs are about to burst from
the soil, there are seeds planted for the Kingdom of God to burst into our
world and we’re invited to turn our mirrors from shining inward and keeping all
the light for ourselves, to take the risk of sharing the light, to bring a meal
to someone on the street corner, to call someone who is alone, to write a
letter to your legislator or show up at a county commissioners meeting, to make
some art or sing a song, to try something you never have before, to step out of
your comfort and into the darkness and light of Christ. .
This is the one, when he died the world was plunged into darkness for hours, the darkness marked his death as creation grieved. And this is the one who walks with us through the valley of the shadow of death, so we know we are not alone in darkness, but it just might be the place we realize how much God loves us and how much we need to receive the Christmas gift of God’s love and care.
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