The Light Shines in the Darkness

So many emotions this past week.  The consecration of a new bishop on Saturday filled the Diocese of Lexington with such great hope for our future.  On Sunday morning our parishes observed Gaudete (Refreshment) Sunday, when we are invited to shift our Advent focus from preparation to hopeful expectation, symbolized by our lone pink candle among the three blue candles of the season. 

Yet in the background, looming over such joyful moments, is the tragedy from this past Friday.  At the Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, CT a man shot and killed 27 people (20 children, six faculty, and the man’s own mother).  This horrific act—the largest school shooting in this nation’s history—has brought Americans from all backgrounds, faiths, and ideals to their knees.  With broken hearts and tear-soaked faces we look to God and ask, “Why?” 

There are no simple answers.  There are no easy solutions.  And there is no degree of consoling that can make sense of such an act.  We who survive are left only to wonder where God could possibly be in the midst of this.

The prologue to John’s gospel, which will be the gospel that is read for us on Christmas morning, tells us that “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it” (John 1: 5).  The light, of course, is Jesus Christ, the Word that existed at the beginning of time, through which all things have come into being.  The light of Christ shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it.

But notice that John does not say that the light dispels the darkness.  The darkness is still there.  The light does not completely destroy it.  And that is where God/Jesus is.  Standing in the midst of the darkness. God in Christ does not promise to rid our world of darkness but to be with us in the midst of the darkness, to stand by us so that the darkness does not overcome us. 

There will always be darkness.  But God promises to stand with us in the midst of it, holding our hands, crying with us.  God’s light, the light of Christ, shines in the middle of our darkest hours, even if as a mere flicker.  The darkness will never overtake this light, and God’s joy and refreshment will, with time, come upon us.  Darkness will never win.

Just as the candles of our Advent wreaths light the way to Christmas, Christ’s own light will bring us refreshment and lead us into all joy and truth. 

O God, you made us in your own image and redeemed us
through Jesus your Son: Look with compassion on the whole
human family; take away the arrogance and hatred which
infect our hearts; break down the walls that separate us;
unite us in bonds of love; and work through our struggle and
confusion to accomplish your purposes on earth; that, in
your good time, all may serve you in harmony around your heavenly throne; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen

--‘A Prayer for the Human Family,’ The Book of Common Prayer (p. 815)

Advent Hope

We live in a world in which “bigger and better” define our expectations for much of life. We have become so enamored by super-size, super-stars, and high-definition that we tend to overlook small things and their potential. But throughout the Scriptures, we find God usually works with small beginnings and impossible situations.

Most of the Biblical heroes are frail and imperfect:

• Abraham, the coward who cannot believe the promise;
•  Jacob, the cheat who struggles with everybody;
• Joseph, the immature and arrogant teen;
• Moses, the impatient murderer who cannot wait for God;
• Gideon, the cowardly Baal-worshiper;
• Samson, the womanizing drunk;
• David, the power-abusing adulterer;
• Solomon, the unwise wise man;
• Hezekiah, the reforming king who could not quite go far enough;
•  A very young Jewish girl from a small village in a remote corner of a great empire.

If God used all of them for such great work, it is likely that God is able to use us, inadequate, unwise, and too often lacking in faith. We best not, in self-righteousness, put limits on what God can do with the smallest things, the most unlikely of people, and the most hopeless of circumstances.

Listen to young children, recite the words of Handel’s Messiah, look to the leaves falling in the crisp morning light – this is the wonder of Advent. While many today talk about the death of Jesus and the atonement of sins, the early Church celebrated the Resurrection and the hope it embodied. Advent is a time of expectation for the Incarnation and Christ’s return in glory – a past and future orientation filled with hope!

Those who have suffered and still hope understand more about God and about life than those who have no suffered. Maybe that is what hope is about: a way to live, not just to survive, and to live authentically amidst all life’s problems with a faith that continues to see possibility simply because God is God.

May our Advent be filled with wonder and hope.

- The Rev. Joyce Stickney, St. Aidan’s, Malibu, California
  From The Anglican Digest, Winter 2012

Life Without Jesus

December 1 is one of my favorite days of the year. It is the day I unpack and set up my nativities and put up our tree. It is the start of Advent, that time of expectation leading up to the great miracle of the birth of Jesus. I freely admit, I am an Advent junkie. I love this season of reflection and expectation. I purposely plan ahead and execute my plan so that I have time to experience Advent in all its holiness and mystery. The gifts I have purchased are all wrapped. I have a few knitted pieces yet to finish and cards to ready. Two new Advent meditations books sit near my favorite chair. I have once again given myself time and place to read, pray and reflect on the birth of Jesus. I have time for family, friends, and Christ Church activities. I have intentionally made time to, as the saying more or less goes, smell the fir and spruce trees.    

When Jonathan was a child, I would often ask him what if questions. What did he think life would be like if we had no TV? What did he think life would be like if we still had slavery in our country? What did he think life would be like if we lived somewhere that is snowed all the time? As I sit here looking at the tiny lights twinkling on the neighbor’s tree, I wonder, what would life be like if Jesus had not been born.

What would life be like if Jesus had never existed? What would your life be like if you didn’t believe in Christ and in the miracle of His birth? What would fill that vacuum in our souls?  It’s a difficult thing to imagine, is it not? It is in many ways unimaginable. Think of the void that would be in your life.  Such a thought brings to mind a rather uncomfortable and unpleasant feeling.

Now think of the great miracle and mystery of the birth of Jesus. Think how much God loves us that He came to Earth in the form of a tiny helpless baby so that He might live amongst us His children created in His own image.  That is a thought that energizes me, that leaves me feeling safe and loved. As I sit in church and listen to the beautiful music, I am caught up in the ever growing sense that something wonderful is about to occur. All the signs, smells, bells and images of Advent leave me with a sense of awe. 

I know I am not alone in this line of thinking and expectation. In a few weeks I will be surrounded by you, my brothers and sisters in Christ, who are equally caught up in the mystery and wonder of Advent as am I. We will be joined by those we love- our families and yet more of our friends. This year, I have invited extended family, neighbors and friends, especially those who have suffered loss this past year, to join me here at Christ Church for the many opportunities offered here this season of Advent. Many of them will join me to listen to beautiful music and voices, or to watch some of our youngest parishioners perform in the Christmas Pageant.  Yet others will join my family on Christmas Eve to worship here in our glorious cathedral. I urge you to do the same. Invite your neighbor, your friend, someone who would otherwise be alone to come worship with you as we celebrate the birth of that tiny baby boy who changed life forever.

- The Rev. Paula Ott, Deacon