Second Christmas
Jn. 1:1-18
The light shines in the darkness and the darkness can not overcome it.
This has been a week for big happenings. Following perhaps the biggest natural disaster in the history of the modern world it is natural for people to be asking big questions Why? How can a loving God countenance such suffering? An article in Friday's tribune put the question well. The article begins, "Not only did the Tsunami devastate southern Asia, it challenged its soul." The article goes on to tell about a University of Chicago divinity student in India. She describes a scene where she watched one man shout, "There is nothing! There is nothing! Where is God? What is God? Then he burst into tears, hung his head and wept."
There is no doubt that in the midst of such trauma and devastation powerful emotions and feelings are normal and natural. There is no doubt! Scripture is filled with such outpourings of pain and hurt, despair and longing. In Psalm 22 we read:
My God, My God, why have you forsaken us? Why are you so far from helping us, from the words of our groaning? O' my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer; and by night, but find no rest. I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint, my heart is like wax, it is wilted within my breast. But you, O Lord, do not be far away! You are our help, come quickly to our aid!
In Psalm 69 we hear the tormented words of the poet: Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck. I sink in deep mire, where there is no foothold; I have come into deep waters, and the flood sweeps over me. I am weary with my crying; my throat is parched. My eyes grow dim with waiting for my God.
Big questions can only be addressed by big ideas. The first big idea we must affirm is that God knows our hurt and can allow for the anger our pain engenders. If scripture is our guide then we must allow that God does not expect that we be little automatons stoically accepting everything that life and the world dishes out to us. If our relationship to God is truly to be a relationship it must be characterized by the honesty of our true feelings. When we are angry, God must know we are angry, when we hurt God must know we are hurting.
In the anger and hurt it is natural to ask tough questions. Why? Beyond the geological, tectonic assessment--Why? Humans have debated that question since the formation of the world. It is a question that can be argued back and forth with the faculties of reason forever but can be answered only with the eyes of faith.
Albert Einstein was once asked, "What is the most important question you can ask in life?" He thought for a moment and then replied, "Is the universe a friendly place or not?" Now that is the fundamental question of faith. Will I trust God ultimately to manage God's world or not? Will I live on some vision that the heart of the universe cares about us - about me - or is there even a heart in the universe at all? If we say yes to that, then we take a trusting approach - a faithful approach to life. We live sort of like that curious fish from Central America called the Quatro Ojos fish, which means "four eyes." The fish doesn't really have four eyes, but its eyeballs do contain two lenses each. This allows the fish to see both above and below the water as it swims along on the surface. The upper lenses search for food, while the lower lenses look for enemies below the surface. The Quatro Ojos is able to see into two worlds - one below and one above its horizon.
Now I think it is this type of faithful double vision where we see the world around us realistically and are intensely aware of it and engaged by it on the one hand, but on the other hand, we have a vision above and beyond that is calling us forward.
Our Old Testament lesson today speaks to just such a vision of hope in a time of utter despair and devastation. While our text appears to be a proclamation of great joy and hope it is important to know the context. Jeremiah speaks in our text of the remnant, the few the very few who are left after their nation has been destroyed, their homes obliterated, their families separated and they are trooped off to live as slaves in exile in a distant land. When you are in exile it seems as though God is impotent or at least absent. If ever people needed a large reason to be faithful, it is these to whom Jeremiah speaks. Right in the middle of their disaster, he suggests something larger than anyone before him ever expected.
He says that in the midst of defeat, God right now takes the initiative to bring about a great reversal. The weeping will stop and be replaced by joy. The slaves will be freed. Everyone is going to come back home--not just the favored and the dutiful, not just the hale and handsome. They'll come from everywhere: "See, I am going to bring them from the land of the north, and gather them from the farthest parts of the earth." No one is excluded. Everyone on earth wins. All this because Yahweh-God will treat them as a father treats his children. Exactly the faith Jesus had six hundred years later. A big idea to live on.
Our Christian faith is one of big ideas, one of the grand, sweeping reasons that change the world and change us. The faith of the scriptures is not composed of a few puny thoughts to be woven into a fashionable bonnet of beliefs, adorned with any attractive current fad, and taken on or off at will. Here, in the middle of a destroyed and depressed people, Jeremiah proclaims the big promise. Speaking as God's voice he says, "I will lead them back." This is the equivalent of a new creation, at least a renewing and reforming of God's people. The word comes at their lowest ebb and they are called to believe it and respond. Believe that you are valuable to God and that God is committed to you. Trust God no matter your feelings or circumstances.
This is the same affirmation John makes in our gospel this morning. 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 with out 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.
A friend, returning from a spelunking adventure shared this story with me suggesting it would make a good sermon illustration. The group had been caving for a couple of days in a variety of settings. One day, several hundred yards into a large cave the guide had the group stop, sit down, be quiet and turn off their head lamps. As the lights winked out they were enveloped by the most profound blackness she had ever experienced. After a moment in utter silence and darkness the leader turned on his lamp. What a difference one six volt flashlight made! The leader asked the group if they thought they could find their way safely out of the cave without lights. They agreed it would be impossible. There were too many slippery surfaces, low ceilings and dangerous drop-offs. The leader agreed, but noted the cave was popular and frequently visited. If trapped in the cave with no light, their best hope was to wait for someone to enter the cave, rescue them and lead them out.
My friend drew a connection between the darkness of that cave and the darkness we sometimes experience in our lives, and connects the leader's headlamp with the light of Christ. The incarnated Christ is the one who enters our darkness to rescue us. However, though Christ's light shines in the darkness and the darkness can not overcome it, his light is not blinding. It is the light of the Christ child, a "gentle glow, a thing of grace and tender beauty. The light of the Dayspring, like the first rays of light at dawn.
Amen