Light in the Darkness
“And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed. (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.) 3 And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:) To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child. And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.
December 24, Christmas Eve, 2011
Luke 2:1-20, Light in the Darkness
Doug Scalise, Brewster Baptist Church
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And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
15 And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us. 16 And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger. And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child. And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds. But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.”
Going to Israel and Jordan in May, I will never hear the familiar words about the birth of Jesus from Luke 2 in the same way. It’s easier to picture what Mary and Joseph’s journey would have been like, leaving the hills of Nazareth and moving south from the lovely region by the Sea of Galilee toward Jerusalem and the town of Bethlehem just a few miles outside the capital city. Fortunately for us, we didn’t have to walk or ride a donkey or camel the whole way – we were on a bus. I’m sure Mary would have preferred that mode of transportation.
During our visit we were told that in the seventh century after Jesus’ birth the Persians attacked Jerusalem and destroyed the churches in the area with one exception, the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem. Interestingly, that church was left intact largely because of a mural on the outside over the entrance that portrayed men dressed in clothes similar to those of the invaders – the painting showed the magi from the east who came to give gifts and worship the Christ child. Omar (Umar) ibn al-Khattab (c. 581–644), the second Rashidun Muslim Caliph, traveled to Bethlehem in 637 CE to issue a law that would guarantee respect for the shrine and safety for Christians and clergy. Hundreds of years later, after the Crusaders had gained possession of Bethlehem, it was re-taken by the Muslims. Their leader at the time was puzzled that Crusaders had been riding their horses into a holy site, so he ordered that the entrance be made much smaller so no horse could enter and even people needed to bow to enter the church because a holy site should be entered humbly and reverently. That is the way it has remained ever since. The following few pictures give you a look inside the Church of the Nativity including the main part of the sanctuary, the front of the altar, some of the candles that pilgrims like ourselves light, and art portraying Jesus and Mary. We sang Adestes Fidelis, O Come, All Ye Faithful, in the place where Jesus was born which is marked by this spot.That was unforgettable.
In Mary and Joseph’s time, they traveled through a land occupied by the Romans and there were soldiers everywhere. Currently, Bethlehem is Palestinian territory, but there are Israeli soldiers guarding checkpoints to get in and out and a large wall to prevent the Palestinians from moving about freely. The number of Christians in the West Bank is on the decline. While some leave for economic reasons, others talk of discrimination and harassment by the Israeli government or the Muslim majority. Christians have even lost their majority in Bethlehem, where more than two-thirds of the 50,000 Palestinian residents are now Muslim. As you can see, there is a lot of graffiti on the wall and these two were among the more poignant for me.
Many of us who went through the checkpoint and saw the wall and the graffiti said we’d never hear the song “O Little Town of Bethlehem” in the same way. We also visited with some local Christians at a church by Shepherd’s Field that commemorates the angels announcing the good news of Jesus’ birth to the shepherds and there are still some shepherds in those same fields. Visiting a refugee camp in Bethlehem one had a better picture of what the circumstances of Jesus’ birth might have felt like to Mary and Joseph than going to the Church of the Nativity.
One Christian observed, “What is Christmas? It is the celebration of the Incarnation, God’s becoming flesh — human — and entering into history in the form of a vulnerable baby born to a poor, teenage mother in a dirty animal stall. Simply amazing. Mary was homeless at the time, a member of a people oppressed by the imperial power of an occupied country whose local political leader, Herod, was so threatened by the baby’s birth that he killed countless children in a vain attempt to destroy the Christ child. The theological claim that sets Christianity apart from any other faith tradition is the Incarnation. God has come into the world to save us. God became like us to bring us back to God and show us what it means to be truly human. That is the meaning of the Incarnation. That is the reason for the season. In Jesus Christ, God hits the streets.
“It is theologically and spiritually significant that the Incarnation came to our poorest streets. That Jesus was born poor, later announces his mission at Nazareth as “bringing good news to the poor,” and finally tells us that how we treat “the least of these” is his measure of how we treat him and how he will judge us as the Son of God…reveals the real meaning of Christmas.” Author Helen Grace Lescheid (Celebrate the Light) shared an example of God bringing good news to the poor and light in the darkness in the following experience from her childhood.
“The Second World War raged in Europe during Christmas Eve in 1944. Mother, with four small children, had fled our native Ukraine with the retreating German army. Father had been reported missing in action. Now we were refugees living in a two-room shack in Dieterwald, Poland. But again the fighting front was only about fifty kilometers away. Frequent air raids sent us scurrying for cover. Explosions rattled the windows. Army trucks brought in the wounded and the dead. Hay wagons filled with refugees rumbled west; bombers droned overhead and army tanks rolled east. Nobody in his right mind went out into the dark winter night.
And yet, it was Christmas Eve. Two women had prepared a Christmas party in a neighboring village and invited us. Mother, wanting to give us children joy, accepted. She instructed my sister and me to dress warmly against the winter’s cold. “Tonight we’re going to a party,” she said. Being only eight-years old, I sensed no danger–only wondrous excitement. Hurriedly my sister, two years younger, and I dressed. If only Mother would hurry! A simple wick flickered in a saucer of oil–our only light. We could barely see her shadowy form as she bustled about getting my four-year-old brother, Fred, and almost two-year-old sister, Katie, ready. Finally Mother was putting on her heavy winter coat, kerchief, and warm felt boots. With one small breath, she blew out the oil lamp. It was pitch dark now.
“Open the door, Lena,” she called to me. We stepped onto the crisp snow covering the farmyard. A crescent moon hung above a large house across the yard where the estate owners lived–kind people who treated us refugees well. It, too, was shrouded in darkness. Mother lifted Katie and shuffled her to her back: she’d carry her piggyback for the five kilometers. “Hang tight onto my coat collar,” she coaxed. Then, turning towards us girls, she said, “You take Fred’s hands.” My younger sister and I complied. We had often taken care of our little brother while mother had culled potatoes in the big barns or had done other chores for the landowners. At the road, we stopped. Although I knew it well from my treks to school, I could barely make out the houses on either side of the street. No street lights were allowed now. Windows heavily draped permitted no light to seep out of the houses. My mother hesitated for a brief moment. Then she said, “Come, we’ll take the shortcut across the fields.” The snow crunched as four pairs of feet punched holes in the white expanse of open fields. Stars spangled the vault of sky above us. A blood-red glow smeared the eastern sky. At times an explosion sent flames shooting into the sky.
“Girls, recite your poems to me.” Mother’s voice sounded a bit shaky. Her arms aching, she put Katie down on the snowy ground. Our recitations of Christmas poems made white puffs in the cold night air. Mother said, “Speak up loud and clear when your turn comes. No mumbling.” She lifted Katie once more onto her back, and we began to walk again. On and on we walked. But we were far too excited to be tired. Finally we arrived at our friends’ house. The door opened and we stepped inside. I felt I had stepped into heaven itself. Lights! A whole room full of lights. Candlelight flickered from a small Christmas tree and bounced out of happy children’s eyes. Heavily draped windows kept the light inside–for us to revel in. Red paper chains decked the tree; delicate paper cherubs smiled down upon us.
We squeezed in amongst women and children sitting on the floor. Soon the room filled with singing: “Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht.”(Silent Night, Holy Night) Some mothers sang alto, the rest of us, soprano. We sang with gusto and from memory, songs that lifted our hearts above the terrors of war and inspired new hope for the days ahead. I can’t remember our long trek home that night, but I do remember the wonderful gifts I received; my right pocket bulged with the most beautiful ball I’d ever seen. A very colorful ball it was. Much later, I learned it had been made out of scrunched up rags wrapped in rainbow colored yarn probably gleaned from unraveling old sweaters. The other pocket held three cookies!
Soon after that wonderful Christmas party, we were evacuated. Icy winds blew snow into our faces as we cowered on an uncovered hay wagon pulled by two scrawny horses. With the front so close behind, we traveled day and night. Once it was safe to stop, we slept in drafty barns. We ate hunks of frozen bread and drank the occasional cup of milk supplied by a Red Cross jeep. But the warm memory of that Christmas celebration shone like a small candle in the darkness. Even years later, when my own life’s circumstances seemed too bleak to celebrate Christmas, I remembered the truth of Christmas born in my heart that night: Jesus, the light of the world came to us at Christmas time and no amount of darkness can put out that light. (John 1: 4, 5)”
A couple phrases in that story stand out to me, “Songs that lifted our hearts above the terrors of war and inspired new hope for the days ahead.” Just surviving must have been intensely difficult for Helen and her mother and siblings, much less maintaining hope for the days ahead. Some of us may be struggling to hold onto hope in situations we are facing today although most of them are not as dire as Helen’s family faced. Yet for Helen, “The warm memory of that Christmas celebration shone like a small candle in the darkness.” There was no immediate rescue or happy ending for Helen and her family, yet like her when there are not immediate answers or happy endings for us, when sometimes there is confusion and challenge, we can focus on Jesus the light of the world. BBC member Jeannette Louth wrote, “Yet through it all the message of Christmas still resonates: a child was born, a promise made, hope and joy filled earth and sky. To know the child and the young man he became, to accept his teachings, and to strive to put them into practice is to know the fullness of God’s love.”
This Christmas some of us may be experiencing a “first” with loss and may be grieving, dealing with illness, or financial burdens, the challenges of aging, a family member wrestling with an addiction or some other disappointment. Whatever our circumstance, Christmas reminds us that in Jesus, God has given us a candle light of hope in the darkness.
Prayer at end of sermon
May the sacred and holy light of Jesus guide you.
May the awe of his birth bring you hope
May the glorious song of love sing in your heart
May you experience new birth and life within and around you
May this Christmas bring the joy which only Jesus can give
Blessing
God grant you the light in Christmas, which is faith;
The warmth of Christmas, which is love;
The radiance of Christmas, which is purity;
The righteousness of Christmas, which is justice;
The belief in Christmas, which is truth;
The all of Christmas, which is Christ. –Wilda English
Prayer before Communion
We praise and thank you, tonight, Most Loving God.
At the appointed time, after all your careful preparation,
you fulfilled your plan to become one of us.
A young woman accepted her role as your servant.
A carpenter accepted his role to be a father on earth.
And, a child was born for us. A Son is given to us.
This night, our gloom and tears are taken away. This night, the angels sing.
Peace on earth. Peace in every human heart. Peace that all will see.
In a barn, a child is born and the angels sing. In simplicity, in lowliness,
you speak the most profound expression of your love for us,
your oneness with our lives.
Totally other before Creation began, you have become totally with us.
Tonight we come together to give you thanks.
We gather to let your Son be born again, for us.
We open our hearts to his coming among us tonight.
So we might be at peace and share our peace with one another.
This night your Holy Spirit gathers us together to give you praise
for you have conquered all that discourages us, defeats us, divides us.
This child, who walked our life’s path and taught us how to love,
gave himself into our hands to face even an unjust death —
to give himself to us as food, as nourishment for our facing every death,
so we can give ourselves to every degree of love.
Now in prayer before you, let us be like the shepherds
who hastened to see that what was promised is real.
Let us together adore him, the Child, the Christ, our Lord.
And let us share our joy and gratitude this night,
by your grace, filled with the gift of his gracious mercy.
We ask this in his holy name, blessed by your ever-present Spirit. Amen.