Christmas: Light in Deep Darkness

     "I'm dreaming of a white Christmas . . .”  “I'll be home for Christmas . . . if only in my dreams.”  The lyrics from these two very popular Christmas songs of the 1940's speak about an idealized view of Christmas celebrations.  Now let's see.  There's perfect weather: just enough snow at just the right time to coat the ground and the trees—coming after everyone has made it home, I guess.  There's a gathering of relatives at home who are all pleased to be together and are looking forward to a sumptuous meal that everyone will enjoy.  There are cleverly conceived decorations of greenery and shiny objects and candles and twinkling lights.  And the gifts—perfectly chosen, appropriately generous, budget stretching gifts about which each person will exclaim, “My goodness,  just what I wanted.”

     I'm not sure anyone has a Christmas such as the one I've just described—not even Martha Stewart.  Our Christmases—whether they are happy times or painful times or harried times or grumpy times or guilty times—reflect where our lives are at the moment. 

But the heart of Christmas—the reason we are here to worship—comes wrapped not in shiny paper which shouts how perfect we are nor in fancy bows and ribbons to hide the ache we have inside.  Rather, the heart of Christmas comes wrapped in mystery—the mystery of God and the choices God has made and continues to make to reach out to humanity.

     Isaiah attempts to describe the mystery this way:  “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.”  What sort of place is the land of deep darkness?  Isaiah spoke to those who were suffering from Assyrian military dominance and oppression.  The fierce armies of the strongest military force in the region had captured  the northern territories—Israel—about 800 years before Jesus's birth.  
     Deep darkness also could be used to describe the world into which Jesus was born.  The land of Judea where Bethlehem was located experienced complete domination.  The people of Judea experienced oppression by both the Roman military and the local puppet rulers who collected the taxes which kept most people in poverty.  The registration census by the Roman governor, Quirinius, at the order of Emperor Augustus, provided an example of that oppression—most likely conducted for the purpose of increased taxation. 

     How can we as citizens of a democracy relate to the deep darkness that Isaiah and the gospel of Luke describe?  We can recognize it as an important fact and give thanks for the blessing of our own freedom.  But even though we don't live in the oppressive culture of the time of Isaiah or in 1^st century Judea, we probably do experience a deep darkness in which we long for the mystery of God's presence to shine.  The effects of poverty and racism in our community cause much suffering for  many people.  The effects of a tragedy of an untreatable disease, an untimely death, the loss of employment, the   foreclosure of on one's home—if we have not personally experienced these signs of deep darkness, someone we love or count as a friend has.  In fact, these last signs of deep darkness are often part of human life—and at times our society as a whole suffers.  Where is the light that will shine in this deep darkness?

      Whoever has encountered the glory of God, Christ's peace that passes all understanding, the breath of the God's supportive and comforting Spirit has encountered the light promised by the prophet Isaiah.  The messengers from God—we call them angels—appeared on that special night in 1^st century Judea to say to the shepherds—and to all who have heard or read Luke's gospel since, “Do not be afraid; for see I am bringing you good news of great joy to all people . . .”  The joy is the Messiah who will be the light in our deep darkness, the Savior who will take away our sins—and not ours only, but the sins of the whole world.

     What does this special birth say to us who live in a completely different culture over two thousand years later?  God came to us to live with us and share our joys and our pain and suffering—not pretending to be human, but truly as one of us.  The light of God's love penetrated that dark night to renew God's relationship with humanity—not a relationship based only on “The Law,” but also on sharing our whole existence with us—first, as a vulnerable infant; then, as one who grew up in the faith and traditions of the Jews; and finally, as a man who with love and power declared the reign of God in our midst.  Through signs, wonders and teaching he showed us “The Father,” “The Creator of all.”  Then after returning to the Godhead, he sent the Holy Spirit—the wind and breath of God—to sustain us in following the way of Jesus Christ, our Savior and Redeemer.  No longer bound in deep darkness to the power of evil in the world and to our own sinful choices, we can see, in the birth of Jesus to Mary and Joseph, the One who will become our Savior.  Help us, O God, to have faith in that light of Christ.  Although that light will not make our lives easy and without pain, the light of Christ will shine in our hearts and on our path to sustain us, so we may resist the temptation to give into the deep darkness.  And so in the end, the light of Christ will guide us home—to our true and eternal home.