The Light Shines in the Darkness

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “The Light Shines in the Darkness” John 1:1-18

This is Epiphany Sunday. Things are beginning to look a little less Christmassy around here. The Advent wreath with its Christmas Eve Christ Candle has been returned to its hiding place in the church basement. The wise men have arrived at the nativity set, but this week, they, along with the shepherd, Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus, will be wrapped up and boxed away. This is the last Sunday for our poinsettia tree in front of the Lord’s Table, so if you would like to take a plant out to bless someone in need of a little extra love, please do. Soon, the sanctuary greens will come down and the gingerbread houses in the Great Hall will be destined for the trash.

Our Christmas clean-ups are underway at home, too. All the company has gone. Lights and ornaments are being stripped from trees. Mom’s recipe for Christmas trifle has returned to the file box. Those Christmas gifts that didn’t quite fit have been returned or exchanged. The inflatable Santa has gone flaccid on the front lawn. It always feels a little sad, overfed, and wistful as we let go of that most festive of seasons and settle into the long winter’s darkness.

Our gospel reading this morning, also turns away from Christmas. We leave behind the birth stories that launch Matthew and Luke. Instead, we hear the first words of John, who makes an unusual beginning to his gospel. The Bible scholars refer to this morning’s reading as a prologue, a song, or a poem. No matter what you call it, John is definitely different. We meet Jesus, not as a holy infant so tender and mild, but as the eternal Word of God, wrapped in flesh, sent into the world to be life and light for all people.

John’s words sound mystical and magical to us, but John’s first century listeners would have felt at home with the gospel writer’s poetic flight of fancy. For Gentiles, John’s first words “In the beginning” (en Arche) would have spoken to the Greek philosophical belief that an organizing principle or word was the clue that held the universe together. For the Jews, John’s first words, “In the beginning” would have evoked the very first words of the Torah, Genesis 1:1, “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.” Gail O’Day, who wrote the book on John for the New Interpreter’s Bible, argues that today’s reading is John’s act of Midrash, a rabbinic teaching that casts the coming of Jesus as a continuation of God’s great work of creation.

It makes sense. In Genesis 1:3-5, God’s begins creation with the words, “Let there be light.” Then, God sees that the light is good and separates the light from the darkness. Centuries after the Torah was compiled, John casts Jesus as that creative Word and original light, saying, “What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it.” John’s midrash twist on the creation is that in Jesus, who is the Word, God chose to become flesh and enter into the darkness of our world.

There was plenty of darkness in John’s day. John’s homeland was an occupied territory, a vassal state of the Roman Empire. Most people lived in poverty while contending with imperial taxes. A failed crop meant hunger or even a turn as a debt slave. Illness and disability were often untreatable and could leave you labeled as “unclean” and unwelcome in the synagogue or Temple. Even the religious life of the people had become oppressive, with Temple taxes to pay and Roman appointed elite priests running the show. John’s community was so persecuted that they were forced to flee Israel for sanctuary on the far side of the Mediterranean, in what is now western Turkie.

We are no strangers to darkness. We know the darkness of violence: the interminable war in Ukraine and the ongoing slaughter of Gaza; the unthinkable acts of New Year’s terror in New Orleans and Las Vegas; women who are not safe in their homes and children who are bullied at school.  

We know the darkness of poverty and income inequality: children who depend on school lunches for their only hot meal of the day, two-income families who still cannot make ends meet, households that depend upon the Food Pantry or Grace Pantry, neighbors bankrupted by surgery or a lengthy stay in the hospital.

We know personal darkness: the grief that weighs us down, the family members who are estranged, the illness we can’t shake, the addiction that plagues us or our beloved ones. We feel alone in the dark, far from help and far from God.

The late Rev. Bob Woods once shared a story about a long-ago family road trip to Carlsbad Caverns National Park in New Mexico when his son and daughter were quite young. If you haven’t been there, the caverns are hidden beneath the Chihuahuan Desert, where more than 119 caves were formed when sulfuric acid dissolved the limestone. The caverns are spectacular, eerie, and populated by about 400,000 bats. Down into the caverns, the Woods family walked, guided by a park ranger. At the deepest point, the ranger turned off the light to demonstrate just how dark darkness can be. The little boy began to cry, frightened by the darkness, but his sister comforted him, “Don’t cry. Someone here knows how to turn the lights on.” The little boy felt better, the lights came back on, and the tour continued.

John’s poetic start to his gospel is a lot like those words of encouragement that the big sister spoke to her frightened little brother. Not only does someone know how to turn on the lights, someone has. Jesus has entered our world to shine light in the darkness. Jesus, the Word become flesh, reminds us that we can face the darkness because God is in it with us, shining light that can sustain us, shining light that cannot be overcome. Thanks be to God.

On this second Sunday after Christmas, we who have received Jesus, who trust in his name, who have become children of God, we have a mission. In Jesus, light shines in the darkness, and we are called to be bearers of that light. We are called to reach out to a world that waits in darkness with the good news that we are not alone and darkness does not have the final word.

If we are looking to shine light in the world’s darkness, we have come to the right place. When we bring our food offerings to the pack basket at the side entrance, lace up our sneakers for the CROP Walk, and collect cans of soup and dollars for the Souper Bowl of Caring, light shines in the darkness.

When we grow fresh, healthy produce in our Jubilee Garden, host a free farm stand at the food pantry, and bless our neighbors with bouquets of beautiful flowers, light shines in the darkness.

When we welcome children, teach Sunday School, host Parent’s Night Out, or have fun with the Youth Group, light shines in the darkness.

When we welcome refugees, visit folks who are homebound, and bless neighbors in crisis with the deacons’ fund, light shines in the darkness.

We shine light, trusting that God is more than a match for this world’s darkness.

This week, our Christmas clean-up will continue. Even those of us who wish we could keep the tree forever will be forced by the scourge of falling needles to give it the old heave-ho. We’ll clean out the refrigerator, parting with the last vestiges of our holiday feasts. We’ll step on the scale and decide that we really should try a little New Years restraint. We’ll say goodbye to Christmas, at least for now. But let’s hold on to the light. Shine, my friends, shine.

Resources

Karyn Wiseman. “Commentary on John 1:1-18” in Preaching This Week, Jan. 5, 2014. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/second-sunday-of-christmas/commentary-on-john-11-9-10-18-4

Cornelius Platinga. “Theological Perspective on John 1:1-18” in Feasting on the Gospels: John vol. 1. Westminster John Knox Press, 2015.

Philip D. Jamieson. “Pastoral Perspective on John 1:1-18” in Feasting on the Gospels: John vol. 1. Westminster John Knox Press, 2015.

Gail R. O’Day. “Exegetical Perspective on John 1:1-18” in Feasting on the Gospels: John vol. 1. Westminster John Knox Press, 2015.


John 1:1-18

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 without 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. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it.

There was a man sent from God whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.

10 He was in the world, and the world came into being through him, yet the world did not know him. 11 He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. 12 But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, 13 who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.

14 And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth. 15 (John testified to him and cried out, “This was he of whom I said, ‘He who comes after me ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’”) 16 From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. 17 The law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. 18 No one has ever seen God. It is the only Son, himself God, who[f] is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.


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From Homage to Home

Sabbath Day Thoughts — Matthew 2:1-12

I was walking in the neighborhood on the day after Christmas when I saw it: the first discarded Christmas tree of the season.  Bushy and long-needled, it looked lonely curbside, stripped of its ornaments and lights.  Some home owner, eager to restore their pre-holiday order, must have risen early and cleaned house.

Some of us may, likewise, already be parting with our signs of the season.  The traditionalists among us will insist on keeping our trees until the sixth of January, the Feast of Epiphany.  A few Christmas fanatics, you know who you are, will hold onto their trees until the dropping of needles becomes unbearable.

All of us in the coming days or weeks will say goodbye to our holiday decorations.  We’ll box up the ornaments.  We’ll carefully coil strands of lights.  The nativity set will be shrouded in bubble wrap and sequestered in the attic.  Eventually, even the evergreen wreath will disappear from the front door.  Our thoughts will turn away from the season of Christmas and focus instead on the year ahead.

This Sunday, we celebrate the arrival of some final guests of the holiday season.  Like family members who celebrate first at the in-law’s house, they arrived late.  Although we like to welcome them on Christmas Eve, Matthew’s gospel tells us that the Magi arrived long after the shepherds had gone back to their flocks and the angels had stopped singing the “Hallelujah Chorus.”  Royal astrologers who scanned the night sky for heavenly portents of earthly events, the wise ones had seen a singular star rising in the east.  It was a star that heralded the birth of a Hebrew king.  The magi compared notes, organized a caravan, and embarked on a long overland journey to Jerusalem in hopes of confirming their hypothesis.

They didn’t find exactly what they were looking for.  Indeed, when they arrived at Herod’s palace in Jerusalem, there was no royal infant swathed in silks and surrounded by luxury.  It must have felt like a disappointing end to their long travels.  But then the guidance of scripture directed them onward, to the Judean hill country.  As they turned their backs to Jerusalem, that portentous star that had risen in the east guided them to Bethlehem, like a big heavenly affirmation.

In the City of David, they found more than they had ever hoped or dreamed imaginable, a holy child, deserving of their reverence and awe.  Matthew tells us that the Magi paid him homage.  They fell to their knees in humility to worship the newborn king.  They gave their costly gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh in response to the greater gift of the Christ-child himself.  They knew that God’s priceless love had been made flesh in the guise of this tiny peasant babe.

Christians have long called that eye-opening visit of the wise ones to the Christ-child Epiphany.  That name was first mentioned by the Patriarch Clement around the year 200.  The name Epiphany comes from the Greek word epiphaneia, which means revelation or manifestation.  It had been revealed to the Magi that the star that they had seen at its rising was a heavenly sign of God’s new outpouring of light in Jesus.  The wise ones took one look at the holy child and knew without question that the unstoppable light of God shone in the world’s darkness.  William Danaker Jr., the Dean of Theology at Western Ontario University, teaches that on Epiphany Sunday we “raise our hearts to the shining beauty of eternal light.”

On this Epiphany Sunday, we especially remember that the beauty of God’s eternal light continues to shine in our world’s darkness.  It cannot be quenched by COVID-19.  It is not dimmed by the untimely death of our beloved ones.  It is not deterred by Capitol Hill gridlock.  It shines even above the threat of violence at the Ukrainian border.  It outshines our mounting years, declining health, frayed marriages, and workplace worries.  The light of Christ shines on in our darkness.

God’s great outshining love finds us where we least expect it and when we need it most.  Light comes in the smile of an infant.  Light comes in the sharing of communion together for the first time since March of 2020.  Light comes in the sparse gathering of those who would worship on a low and snowy Sunday after the New Year.  Light comes even as we worship virtually in the quiet of our own homes amid the post-Christmas clutter.  Christ’s light shines in our darkness.  Thanks be to God!

On this Epiphany Sunday, we recall that Jesus, who is light, saw his followers as light.  He taught his disciples, “You are the light of the world. . . Let your light shine before others that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven” (Mt. 5:14, 16).  The light of Epiphany shines in us whenever we go forth in Jesus’ purpose. 

In our simple acts of kindness, light shines in the darkness. 

As we share the good news by praying for others or inviting them to church or sharing a sermon, light shines in the darkness.

When we make a healing difference in our families, light shines in the darkness.

As we nurture our children in body, mind, and spirit, light shines in the darkness.

When we care for the least of these, our vulnerable neighbors, light shines in the darkness.

That holy light that brought the Magi to their knees on that distant night in Bethlehem continues to shine through us, if we will let it.

In the coming days, our Christmas clean-up will continue.  We’ll see more trees curbside.  Our holiday keepsakes will return to the safety of their attic cubbies.  The last stale cookies will be nibbled or trashed.  Our thoughts will turn away from shepherds and angels.  The Magi will retreat to distant Persia until next Christmas. 

As we turn away from Christmas and step into the New Year, don’t pack away the light, my friends.  It longs to shine in you as it did in Bethlehem all those years ago; it longs to dispel the darkness that plagues humanity still.  The stars sing on in the night.  May the Christ-light that God shone at Epiphany kindle our hearts and send us forth to illumine our world.  Amen.

Resources:

John Calvin. “Commentary on Matthew 2:1-6.”  Accessed online at https://www.ccel.org/ccel/calvin/calcom31.ix.xix.html

William Danaher Jr. “Theological Perspective on Matthew 2:1-12” in Feasting on the Word, Year C, volume 1.  Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009. Barbara Brown Taylor. “Homiletical Perspective on Matthew 2:1-12” in Feasting on the Word, Year C, volume 1.  Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009.


Matthew 2:1-12

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.”  When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet: ‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.’”  When Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.” When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.


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