Light

2 Christmas C 2009
(Jer 31: 7-14; Ps 84; Ephesians 1:3-6,15-19a; Luke 2:41-52)

O God, who wonderfully created, and yet more wonderfully restored, the dignity of human nature: Grant that we may share the divine life of him who humbled himself to share our humanity, your Son Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. (Collect for 2 Christmas, BCP)

Two men in a small Irish village were always fighting.

If Mike went to pasture his cows, Frank argued that the pasture was actually his. If Frank went to harvest his wheat, Mike said that Frank had cut the edge of Mike’s field. Every season, for whatever reason, there was a fight. Everyone was sick of it. A group of people went to the village priest and asked him to intervene.

The little old priest sat and scratched his bald head and thought and thought. Then he stood and went to Mike and Frank and said, “You’re fine strong men. But I know something neither of you can do.”

Mike and Frank stopped their arguing long enough to stare at the little priest and ask, “And what’s that?”

“I’ll bet that neither of you can fill every corner of your barns on Christmas Eve. By midnight I’ll have filled mine more full than yours. If I win, you have to shake hands and leave off your bickering for good.”

Mike and Frank agreed. And so, all Christmas Eve, while the whole village watched, Mike and Frank filled each his own barn with whatever they could lay their hands on. Animals, bales of hay, furniture, wood scraps—they dragged it all inside and arranged it so as to fill every corner. Meanwhile the little priest sat by a fire in the center of the village, reading his prayers, closing his eyes, sometimes singing to himself, doing nothing to fill his own barn.

Near the stroke of midnight Frank and Mike paused, drenched with sweat in spite of the cold, exhausted. Their barns were filled with all manner of things and all manner of unhappy animals too, but still there was room in some of the corners and near the top.

The little priest stood slowly, stiff with cold. The whole village watched while he went inside his humble little house. He emerged with a single candle. All followed as he stepped inside his empty barn. The little priest lit the candle and all watched in silence as the flame grew and the light filled the inside of the barn, every corner. The priest spoke aloud and said, “The True Light has come into the world. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

All watched as Mike and Frank shook hands and, true to their word, left off their fighting for good and all.

Well, the 2009 1040 tax forms already came in the mail, the gifts have been opened and in some cases exchanged, we’re slowly learning to write 2010 on our checks and letters. But this is still Christmastide, and the proclamation of the Word made flesh is still ours for the taking, still ours to kindle light and hope in our lives and in our world. One early church figure said that God’s nature was spread through the infant born in Bethlehem like heat spreads through iron until the iron glows. So our lives are also aglow—believe it. We too are changed—live into it. If a word and a candle can make two stubborn Irishman stop arguing, think what our lives aglow with the Christmas Gospel can do.

And as surprising as a candle lit during a Christmas Eve bet, prepare to be surprised by grace and by gift.

There’s surprise in today’s Gospel tale of neglectful parents and a naughty 12 year old kid. After the annual trip to Jerusalem, Mary and Joseph forget to check that Jesus is part of the entourage going back home. Ever know anyone who was left behind at a truck stop?

They head back, probably in a panic and thinking maybe slave traders or worse snatched the kid. Finally they find him, learning that he CHOSE to stay behind, probably hanging out with other students and eating what they chose to share with him. As a parent, I think Jesus’ answer to Mary is kinda middle-school flippant—whattaya mean you didn’t know where I was?

But beneath this scene that any parent or anyone who’s been 12 years old can enter into is something deeper. For people of the Christmas Gospel, there is always something more that trembles just beneath the surface. Frightened parents and a willful kid are more—they are a sign that this kid will be full of surprises, that his life and even this moment is meant to be a gift and a mystery for us all. If nothing is every ordinary again after the birth of Christ, then no moment is without the power to allow God to break through and move our hearts to joy and our feet to dance.

God shared our human life with Christ, so that could share the divine dance and the divine joy.