Xmas Eve 2014 11p

The Light

Here we are on Christmas Eve, and the tail end of Christmas Eve at that. Before you make it home tonight it will be Christmas Day. Among the many splendors and wonders that we celebrate tonight, there is one that often goes unnoticed: the light is returning.

I’m not making some deep and profound theological insight here. The light is not a metaphor for God’s presence or Jesus’ return, or your own spiritual illumination. I mean just what I said: the light is returning. We have passed the winter solstice, and so the days are getting longer and we are receiving more light. In our yearly cycle, the light is returning.

For us here on the North Shore, where we have four solid seasons and a fairly balanced rhythm to the nature cycle, we can miss this turning point entirely. But if you live farther north, how much light you get and when it arrives is a bit more of a concern.

That point came home to me when Rev. Jill and I went to Alaska for our honeymoon. We were driving the interior loop, doing our best to stay away from touristy spots. I remember we were in one of the tiny towns along the roadside, outside of a store. There was a piece of pipe attached to the railing, and it was fixed at a low angle. Above it there was a sign which informed me that looking through the pipe showed you how far the sun ascended on the shortest day of the year. The angle was really, really low. It was then that my dream of living in Alaska died: I need sunshine. I need light.

In a canyon in Norway, the village of Rjukan received even less light than that little town in Alaska. The poor residents of Rjukan would go without sunrise for half the year. There would be a sort of twilight that would exist during the day, but they went without direct sunlight for months at a time.

Rjukan’s problem was more location than simply latitude. It is situated at the bottom of a narrow river valley, with steep mountain slopes surrounding it.

Oddly enough, the village didn’t even exist until the 20th century. It was an ideal place to build a factory using hydroelectric power from the river, and an entrepreneurial industrialist did just that. The factory offered lots of jobs, and so people came to live and work. The problem became, as it turned out, the long dark winters. The industrialist did his best to offer the workers relief from the murky twilight. He even built a cable-car that would take workers and their families up the mountain slope to see the sun.

The gloomy lot of the Rjukan villagers finally changed in last year. It was then, at the cost of about a million dollars, that three huge mirrors were constructed on the mountaintops above the village. The angle of the mirrors adjusted throughout the day and winter sunlight was reflected down into the valley.

The effect on the townsfolk has been dramatic. People are definitively happier. The parking lot at the village center has become a place where people actually socialize, rather than just scurrying from building to building. Benches have been installed in the sunniest spots and the town is thinking about putting in a fountain to add to the aesthetic. Some intrepid souls have even been seen wearing sun glasses and lying in lounge chairs in the reflected sunlight.

The citizens of Rjukan once walked in darkness. Now -- thanks to their mountaintop mirrors -- they see a great light.

In our old testament reading, the prophet Isaiah wrote “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.”

Isaiah never experienced a winter like they do in Norway, or Alaska for that matter. Yet his point was clear to the listeners of the day.

He was comparing the reign of the new king Hezekiah, who would rule his people with justice and kindness, to the return of the sun. Isaiah was also prophesying of the coming Messiah.

That Messiah is our Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ, whose birth we celebrate tonight. The babe we see in the nativity scene came into this world to save all of us. He came to be our light, by which we see and live.

Jesus is the light of hope. Light, after all, brings hope. When dawn comes and the darkness retreats, something dawns anew in our hearts as well. Most of us are happy when the sun rises, when the light comes. It means a new day, full of possibility, even in the midst of challenge.

Jesus is our light which brings hope. His birth reminds us that there is hope for the world. His birth reminds us that he brings the hope of salvation. His birth reminds us that he offers the gift of eternal life. His birth reminds us that in our darkest hour, his light is still beside and within us.

Jesus is also the light of peace. Isaiah wanted a king that would push back the darkness through being a mighty warrior. Many in this world still believe that war is the path to peace. But war does not beget peace. Not in any lasting sense. Perhaps paradoxically, our hope for true peace comes in the form of a helpless infant born in a manger.

As theologian Jurgen Moltmann has put it: "If liberation and peace are bound up with the birth of a little helpless and defenseless child, then their future lies in the hands of God alone. On the human side, all we can see here is weakness and helplessness. It is not the pride and strength of the grown man which are proclaimed on the threshold of the kingdom, but the defenselessness and the hope of the child. The kingdom of peace comes through a child, and liberation is bestowed on the people who become as children.”

Jesus is also the light of joy. In our Gospel reading, the angel says to the shepherds, “Do not be afraid; for see-- I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.” Good news of great joy.

The look of joy on someone’s face fills our own hearts with joy. When someone is obviously struck by joy, especially a child, their face just lights up and becomes alive in a way that it was not before.

Jesus was born into the world, but it is God’s desire that we also experience the joy of his Son being born IN US. When we follow Jesus, he does indeed come to abide in us, to live in us. It is at that point that deep God-centered joy becomes available to us…a joy unlike anything else a human being can experience.

And of course, Jesus is the light of love. Flame or fire is a common metaphor for describing love. When you have fire, you have light. And when you have love, you have light. When you are without love, life can be so cold and so dark. Jesus is the light of the world and that light is first and foremost love.

If you have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, then you will never be without love again. If you know of God’s love for you in Christ, then it will breathe new meaning and new light into the other loves in your life. After all, God IS love.

In Rjukan, Norway, the people who were in darkness saw a great light. And it would not surprise me to hear that the villagers described their new life there as one that enlivened in them hope, peace, joy, and love.

The light of the Christ-child brings something similar to our souls and to the lives we live: Hope, peace, joy, and love. But while similar, there is a critical important distinction. External light, in the form of the sun, can only give us these things fleetingly, and in a shallow form. Internal light, in the form of God’s Son, gives us these things abidingly, and in the very depths of our being.

Are you ready to receive the light of the Christ-child? As you receive the Holy Eucharist tonight, or a blessing if you so choose, envision it as the outward and visible sign of your receiving the inward and spiritual grace of God’s love in the form of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.