The Christmas sermon I need to hear

Christmas 2012
http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearABC_RCL/Christmas/ChrsDay1_RCL.html


Light is for traveling.

Just the other day we drove through the usual Portland winter mix of daytime murk and rain. I strained to see out of the windshield. The windshield wipers, de-fogger, and the outside washer did not seem to clear the glass. I realized that the inside of the windshield was lightly covered with a haze that comes simply from people breathing. Only if that would be washed away could enough light break through to let me see.

And light breaking through is necessary to travel anywhere.

Another Christmas has arrived, thank God. Frederick Beuchner said that no matter how commercial and crass and clichéd we have made it, we simply cannot quite ruin Christmas. This is due to the absolute power, the unthinkably pure and bright Light that has blazed upon us, the outrageous claim that not only in the polite and well-ordered portion of our lives, but in the darkest corners, in the earthiest and most shadowy parts of our lives and of our world, uncreated Light has blazed forth. I have seen the gentle light of a single candle in a quiet room. I have also seen a lighthouse beam lance dazzlingly across storm-tossed waters. I have seen gentle, silent dawn. I have also been blinded by a headlamp in my eyes when I lay lost and helpless in a tunnel in a Missouri cave. I have opened a door in a tenement apartment to reveal the lonely, impoverished elderly woman living in fear in a crime-infested neighborhood. I have seen the Light, in many different forms. I suspect you have too.

It’s all light, and at the risk of using another old cliché it is all good. The Light reveals us and reveals what we need to see. The Light reveals what is real. In the New Testament the same word is used for “truth” and “real.”

But we do get used to the dark. That’s good, because darkness is everywhere and if we could not adapt then we could not survive. Eyes grow accustomed to the dark, if we wait long enough. People grow accustomed also to other forms of darkness—sadness, hopelessness, fear, oppression, poverty…how easily things become the “new normal”, and we accept what before seemed unthinkable. Most recently we have been tempted to accept as normal a world filled with violence and with the ready availability of weapons that should never find their way into the hands of the irresponsible or the mentally ill, perhaps into no one’s hands at all.

But the Light that has come into the world, the Light of the Incarnation, the light of Christmas, chases away every shadow and allows us to see clearly. All we need to do is clear our sight just a little, just like clearing the glass from inside a windshield.

A contemporary church thinker sent out a post entitled “The Sermon I need to hear this Christmas.” I think his title works well as a question—what is the sermon you most need to hear this Christmas?

That is a question worth chewing on, and perhaps we can all chew on it during these 12 days of Christmas. I share with you the sermon I most need to hear this Christmas, because preachers usually preach what they themselves most need to hear, what they most need to work on.

This Christmas I most need to hear the message of the Angels, that born long ago in the city of David was the Messiah, the Lord. I need to hear that that birth is not a long-ago truth, as beautiful as that truth may be. I need to hear that the Son of God is always being born, in our midst, especially among the poorest and most forgotten. I need to hear that God-made-flesh is born in me, is constantly coming to birth in me, that the new Light of Bethlehem is the new Light made flesh in my flesh. This is no new idea; it is good solid orthodox faith. So many saints and scholars have said it. So many quiet people have lived it. That gift, the birth of the Christ-light in me and in you, is the gift that lies always at the foot of the Christmas tree and lies at our feet ready each day of our lives. All we need do is unwrap it.

I most need to hear that the Light of the world shines not only in a lovely church service and in cherished family gatherings, but also in the darkest and most sorrowing places of the world. The ever-new Light shines in Newtown even though the grieving people there are not sure if it is time to celebrate it. It shines in Palestine, in Bethlehem of today which is surrounded by a 25 foot high wall that would keep the shepherds from visiting the manger without passing through a checkpoint. It shines in the shadowy corners of the city where homeless people will huddle tonight, just another night of seeking warmth. If these dark places threaten to eclipse the Light of Christmas, then I have not heard the message of the angels and have not opened my eyes to see the true Light that enlightens everyone, everywhere, for all time.

And I most need to hear that the Light of the Incarnation, the Light of Christmas, will follow me from this place and will follow me after this night and the day after, and will stay with me to throw light upon my path. I need to hear that during whatever challenge or trial the days ahead might hold for me and for the world, the Light will show me what to do and give me strength to do it.

And I most need to hear that I shall not be alone, that the Company of the Light, those who seek to live by the Light of Christmas, of the Christ-Mass, are with me, both here in this church and abroad in the world. I need to hear that others who seek and serve and delight in the Light will be with me, will join hands with me, and that together we will be vessels of the Light of Christ in a world that has adapted to the shadows.

That’s the Christmas sermon I need to hear.

Light is for traveling. We are here so briefly, together, by the light of candles, basking in the glow of song and prayer and sacrament. When we leave, we will switch on headlights or bicycle lamps, or maybe walk by the glow of street-lamps to find our way home. Light is for traveling. The world grows accustomed to stumbling in darkness. May we gently wipe our eyes and our hearts, that we may receive each day the uncreated Light that illumines our souls.