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"Light and Life"
In a few moments, we will join together in the simple, yet transforming, feast laid before us; and, we will hear Jesus’ reminder, "My body given for you, my blood shed for you." From Christ’s table, we will share these elements of life and, for a moment at least, feel somehow tied together in some sort of divine unity. And, then, a few more moments after that, we will join together in the lighting of our candles remembering the words read from Isaiah – "those who lived in a land of deep darkness – on them light has shined." From the flame of the Christ candle, a flame will be shared, one candle tilted toward another, until the whole sanctuary is a glow in a soft wave of light.
And, then we will sing "Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright." And, for these moments, all may be calm, all may be bright. Or, at least for these moments, the busyness, even the chaos and uncertainty, which may be the rest of our lives, will be suspended in this wave of well-being. For a short time, the warmth of this Christmas moment may offer us a sense that, indeed, all is calm, all is bright. Yet, the moment doesn’t last, does it? At the very least, we leave here and immediately face the dark night outside, the third longest night of the year. And, for many of us, the busyness, the chaos, the uncertainties return accompanied perhaps by others personal darkness. We also leave here returning to a world at large with way more than its share of darkness. We only have to read the paper or listen to the news to be reminded of the pain of our world. So, when we leave here, what happens to the promised light in our deep darkness? Where is that calm and bright? Why can’t we continue to feel the wave of light and life that bathed us within these walls? To begin to sort out our answer, first, we need to determine what it is that we really experience in these Christmas Eve moments. Maybe we experience the comfort of the familiar service. Maybe it’s the warmth of a family reunion. Maybe we experience the appeal of the special liturgy. After all, the carols, the communion and the candles of Christmas Eve aren’t the fare of most of our everyday lives. And, in and of themselves, these are perfectly valid experiences. Yet in the comfort, the warmth and the special appeal of this evening, we perhaps are seduced into forgetting the true and most remarkable experience of all. The carol, as the candle light floods through the sanctuary, will sing on: Silent night, holy night. This is it. The real experience of this night is the birth of Jesus our Lord, Jesus our Savior. On this silent night, this holy night we are given the opportunity to experience something absolutely earthshaking and life-changing. Tonight, we receive into the world, we receive into our world, God’s very self. And, even more remarkable than God’s coming into our world is the reason that propelled his coming. Unlike any of the other gospels, the prologue from John that we just read, lays out the reason in a text so powerful that some term it the most exquisite of the New Testament. In poetic words perhaps from an early Christian hymn, John suggests the unimaginable. God came to the world and suffered our humanity so that we can once again be called his children. Let’s revisit this majestic text. In phrases reaching back to the time before time, John sets the stage: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 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. The Word, with a capital "W," is used only in John’s prologue, yet echoes all the way back to the first book of the Bible. Genesis 1:3, "Then God said, ‘Let there be light;’ and there was light." In Genesis, God spoke for the first time and from his word there was light. And, again John’s words, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." And so tonight, the God who spoke creation into existence, the God of life and light – is introduced to us again in a new and startling way. God is propels himself into the ironies of human time and history: The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. The Word, the God of time before time, came into human history to end, once and for all, the darkness of humanity’s separation from God, and to bring us, some of us even kicking and screaming, back into God’s family. [T]o all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of flesh or of the will of man, but of God. And, the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth. "In the beginning was the Word, . . . And, the Word became flesh and lived among us." This – not the familiar carols or candles, not the warmth and comfort – this, the Word become flesh, is the experience of Christmas Eve. This is the experience that lasts beyond the glow of the sanctuary into the darkness of the long night, into the darkness of our lives and the only light that can pierce the deep darkness of our world. On Christmas Eve, we stand in the thin and holy space between heaven and earth, a delicate membrane that has been pierced by an infant’s cry. The reconciliation of God and creation and the transformation of that creation becomes a promise realized in flesh and bone, a promise embodied within the person of Jesus, our Brother and Friend, above all, our Savior. Yet, we know full well that the work of reconciliation and transformation begun with the baby Jesus’ birth is not complete. We brighten our sanctuary with candles, but the night persists beyond these walls. We are still a people who mourn. God’s beloved creation is still ravaged by violence and war. The final measure of our redemption has still to be fully delivered. Yet, the promise of the Word become flesh – the gift of Christmas – is the assurance that God’s will shall be done on earth as it is done on heaven. As we share the bread and cup, as we share the Christ candle’s flame, my prayer tonight is that we hear within our hearts the voice of God saying to each of us, "Dear child, on this holy night, receive the most extraordinary gift I have to give you. In my Son, in the Word made flesh for you, I give you the gift of light, the gift of life. Receive this gift and treasure it, nurture it and share it. Receive this gift that will send you forth not only into this holy night but into all of life with a light that can not be overcome by darkness. Friends, on this very Christmas Eve, in this very place, in our very hearts "a child, a savior, has been born for us." "And, light and life to all he brings." |
Darla
Blatnik