Isaiah 9:2-7
The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. Those who lived in a land of deep darkness, on them light has shined.
Thus begins our prophecy from Isaiah chapter 9. This passage, its despair-busting, hope-producing, singable Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace stir within us all we wish for at Christmas. Of course, this passage’s context is not the birth of a first-century messiah named Jesus even though we read it this night. And the metaphors of light and darkness, if not then, certainly now are heavily weighed down by the problematic nature of equating darkness with evil and suffering, death and injustice. Still, Isaiah’s words awaken in us the fervent hope that a baby can change everything, that a great light shines in the darkness, that joy is within our reach.
Darkness, though, is not going to be vanquished. Evil and suffering, death and injustice will continue. We know. We feel the burdens of these many months. Illness. Death. Grief. Job loss. Business loss. Isolation. Rise in domestic violence. Exhaustion—from zoom and for parents and teachers and healthcare workers. Systemic racism. Division. Darkness is not going to be vanquished in one fell swoop, not even by the messiah. We may feel betrayed by God to learn the promise of the messiah was not that the messiah would beat back the darkness. Isaiah and, later, the gospel of John speak instead of the light to come.
Several years ago, youth from All Saints Lutheran Church joined the youth of Grace to put together the Christmas gift bags we usually shared with folks at the pancake breakfast on the Sunday closest to Christmas. After eating pizza together and some rowdy name games, we gathered for a devotion. It was the Friday evening closest to Christmas and thus dark outside, but inside Hope Hall, the safety lights still glowed. Seeking a truly dark space, I directed all of us to the Sonshine Room, where we keep our heat respite water supply. At this time, the city hadn’t yet fixed the lighting problem in the alley, so the Sonshine Room was pitch black. Together in the dark, we probably 30 adults and kids, we remembered the things that were hard for us in those days. We named them, one by one. Then I lit a match. Just a tiny flame. But we could instantly see each other, nearly everyone in the room. We collectively gasped. Truly stuck in the dark, that tiny flame illuminated the space. Each person held a candle, and we silently passed the light to each other until all the room was lit up. It was still night. We still hadn’t turned on the lights. There were still shadows in the corners. But the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. Those who lived in a land of deep darkness, on them light has shined.
The promise is not an end to the darkness. The promise is a light in the darkness.
This Christmas Eve, we tell the story of a young couple traveling, of a baby born, of shepherds visited by angels, by good news of great joy for all the people. Still, Jesus’ birth does not end all suffering. There are other parts of the story: a couple without social support because of the questionable circumstances of Mary’s pregnancy, the real life pain and blood of birth, the circumstances of the Roman Empire, occupation and corruption and violence. But in a land of deep darkness, a light shines.
God entered the darkness of the world with a light to shine: God’s own presence in Jesus. And God is with us now, here, at 1124 N 3rd Street, shining in us, in word and song, in bread and the fruit of the vine. And Christ’s light shines not just here but in all and for all the world. Where have you seen the light of Christ shine? To read our community’s reflections, go to the live stream worship Facebook feed from December 24 at 7:30 pm.
My most recent glimpse of Christ’s light was not profound but mundane. Yesterday, I picked up water at Costco for our outreach at the northwest gate since we were completely out. I staggered out of Costco with my long cart loaded down with 9 large cases of water and maneuvered over to my car. I opened my trunk and lugged the first case into it. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to me, my cart crept into the line of traffic. You can imagine how many people were at Costco on December 23, and I had unintentionally bottlenecked traffic in the Costco parking lot. But the couple right next to me, loading boxes into their vehicle, almost immediately cried out: Whoa!, pulled the cart out of the line of traffic, and then asked me: Do you need help? We then loaded my car with the water together. In the moment I needed help, it was provided.
Christ’s birth, God’s incarnation, God’s presence among us does not vanquish darkness, but it does shine a light. We who walk in a land of deep darkness, on us light has shined. Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! Amen.