Christmas
2; Yr. A, January 5, 2014
Jeremiah 31:7-14;
Psalm 84:1-8 (9-12);
Ephesians
1:3-6, 15-19a; Matthew 2:1-12
Sermon
preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church
After
seminary I applied to take the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius at the Mercy
Prayer Center. The interviewer asked me,
“What is your image of God?” I was
stumped. I don’t really have an image of
God. I don’t know what God looks like,
and I don’t spend much time thinking about it.
I don’t have any illusion that God really looks like us. But I guess an image of God is different than
a picture. So I said this. When I think of God I think of light. I think of truth. I think of a little child held in love. When I see truth and light and love, I know I
am in the presence of God. Light. Truth.
Love.
As
I sit at my computer writing the sun is just coming in through the window. The bright beam is hitting me on the side of
the head, getting me right in the eyes.
The light is reflecting on the inside of my glasses and the glare
shimmers across the lens. It’s hard to
see. My inclination is to get up and
adjust the blinds in the window, to shut the light out. But I like the sunlight pouring into the room
as I write and read. I want the warmth
of that light to fill the room where I am working. On a day when the temperature is near zero
outside, it makes the room feel like a safe womb isolated from the cold. But the light … it’s so intense … so
overwhelming … so distracting … I can hardly stand it. Light can be like that, so can God.
At
dinner we often light candles. Hannah
always wants to turn down the overhead lights, and she jumps up to do that
before we eat. I light the two short
candles and the votive on the table.
Hannah lights the two taller candles in the Christmas arrangement at the
head of the table. Quickly, our eyes adjust and the light from the candles
seems to grow stronger as we settle in to say grace. Surrounded by darkness, I am drawn to the
soft light. The candle glow is warm and
inviting. The flames jump and flicker teasingly as we begin to eat. The light feels alive and enticing. God can be like that too.
There
once were three wise men who watched the heavens, and one day they saw
something new happening there. They followed
the light of a star because they believed its rising announced the fulfillment
of a prophecy. From Egypt to Judea the
men travelled by night to find the new king of the Jews, an infant king. That tiny light in the night sky called them
toward Bethlehem and stopped over the home of Mary and Joseph. The gentle light of God reached into their hearts
and brought them in.
When
they arrived at the house, they were overwhelmed with joy. They went inside to pay him homage, bringing
gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.
There they discovered an overwhelming light, awesome and
tremendous. A light so bright that it
brought them to their knees. God can be
like that … awesome in both an electrifying and terrifying way. Like the sun, so powerful that we can only
look out from behind hands that block the full force of the light.
Judy Cannato, a
modern writer, describes God as Holy energy, energy that has always been
radiating toward creation like sunlight, but which we have not been able to
receive in its fullness. She says that
God has been “ceaselessly self-communicating, ceaselessly pushing for life from
within and without. With Jesus comes the
breakthrough moment. After eons of
preparation, humankind is finally able to receive grace in a more conscious
way. Through Jesus and his interaction
with the Holy One, Light breaks through into life in a way never before
experienced. Jesus is able to absorb the
gracious radiance of God in a fashion that transforms those in his midst who
are ready to receive the breakthrough event.” [1]
His life is all about revealing that divine energy which we call Love, which
pours out to us as water pours down from a waterfall; a Love so great that
until Jesus came on the scene, we were unable to receive it and live. It would have been like plugging a coffee pot
directly into the generator at the foot of Niagra Falls. The pot would be blown to bits, the wiring
incapable of handling the flow of energy it received. But Jesus, Jesus was different. Jesus could handle the flow, and the
transformative power of God’s energy was revealed through him. Jesus modeled inclusiveness and connection,
courage, a generosity that knew no bounds and a love that vanquished fear. Jesus showed us what it could mean to
intentionally accept the light of God into ourselves, to be co-creators with
God, to be transformers, to be images of God, to be light.
Greek
philosophy taught us to define God as omnipotent, omniscient, and
omnipresent. But Jesus’ life showed us
that God’s true nature isn’t one of force, but of freedom. The Holy energy of God frees us to be
vulnerable, forgiving, accepting, and merciful.
Those were powers that Jesus used with reckless abandon and they
cultivated connection. They nurtured
communion. Jesus, Emmanuel, God with us
… revealing in his life our human potential for intimate connection with God, a
communion that reveals the interconnectedness of all creation.
Cannato
quotes Clarissa Pinkos Estes. “The light
of the soul throws sparks, can send up flares, causes proper matters to catch
fire. To display the lantern of the soul
in shadowy times like these – to be fierce and to show mercy toward others,
both, are acts of immense bravery and greatest necessity. Struggling souls catch light from other souls
who are fully lit and willing to show it.”[2] And Cannato continues by saying, “To be spark
throwers, to send up flares, to be fierce with fire – this is what our world so
desperately needs from us.” [3]
Today
is the last day of Christmas. Tomorrow
is the Feast of the Epiphany. The time
after Epiphany is considered Ordinary Time in the church year, but there is
nothing ordinary about it. It is a
season when we remember many of the ways God was revealed in Jesus. It’s a time when we look for the light, when
we look with intention for the manifestation of God in life, in the things we
call ordinary. That is all well and good
to look outside ourselves for signs of God, but I’d like to suggest that we
also look inside. The light of Christ
shines in each one of us. How do we
nurture that flame? How do we send
sparks of Love into the world? What do
the flares of our faith bring to light?
This is a season to look at ourselves, to wonder how we manifest God
through our own lives. Will others look
at us and see Love burning in our hearts?
Jesus
came so that we might have life in all its fullness. Fire is risky business, but we are meant to
be torches bringing light to one another, and to the world, both the soft light
of compassion, forgiveness and mercy, and the brilliant light of justice and self-sacrifice. During this “ordinary time” let’s see how
many times we send a spark into the world.
Let us hold one another to the task of being light in a world that
desperately needs it. Let us accept the
task of being co-creators with God.
Amen
[1] Cannato, Judy. Radical Amazement: Contemplative lessons
from black holes, supernovas, and other wonders of the universe, Soren
Books, Notre Dame, IN, 2006, p. 74.
[2] Clarissa Pinkos Estes as quoted in Radical Amazement:Contemplative lessons from
black holes, supernovas, and other wonders of the universe by Judy
Cannato. (Soren Books, Notre Dame, IN,
2006), p. 90.
[3] Cannato, Judy. Radical Amazement: Contemplative lessons
from black holes, supernovas, and other wonders of the universe, Soren
Books, Notre Dame, IN, 2006, p. 90.
No comments:
Post a Comment