Christmas 1, 2024
Isaiah 61:10-62:3
Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7
John 1:1-18
Psalm 147
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Merry Christmas! I hope you’re enjoying those five golden rings today. In these 12 days of Christmas, we celebrate the birth of The Word made flesh, Jesus our Lord. As we heard from John, the Word has been here from before the beginning of creation. “All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.” All things. And in case it isn’t obvious, “all things” includes you! The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit work together in creating everything that is. Including you.
So, this means the Word has always been here. But the Word made flesh is what’s new and different. Jesus is the spoken Word of God in human form. We often call the Bible the word of God. But the Bible is the written word of God, developed over the ages. The Bible testifies to the Word of God, but it was not here at the beginning of creation. The Bible is not the same as the spoken Word. Jesus is the spoken Word. And you’ll remember that all of creation was spoken into existence. The spoken Word has always been here, from before the very beginning. That Word is not going anywhere, and that Word is never far from you. That same spoken Word is the light that we heard about in John. In the beginning was the Word. Before there was anything.
Which brings us to the light, shining in the darkness. I believe that the times when we feel farthest from God might just be the very times we are the closest to God. Because in tragedy and pain, all the frivolous distracting diversions of life are taken away. Because the light shines in the darkness. When everything is bright and cheery and 60 degrees on a winter day, we might not notice a candle flickering in a corner. But when times are darkest, when we are searching, when we need hope, that is when we notice a little candle, because the light shines in the darkness. And the darkness does not overcome it. Does the darkness try to overcome the light? Well, just take a look around you. The darkness is always trying. Always trying.
And we have a vivid example of that in the way the Church year is laid out. In the days right after Christmas, the Church observes three Holy days, which we rarely notice, because they are not allowed to replace a Sunday. (Church nerds can turn to pages 16 and 17 of our BCP for an explanation.) These three Major Feasts honor St. Stephen, St. John, and the Holy Innocents. St. John is credited with giving us the Gospel of John, from which we heard the opening verses a few minutes ago. But the other two feasts are very different. St. Stephen was the first Christian martyr. He was stoned to death, while Saul (who later became St. Paul) stood there dutifully holding the robes of the ones who killed Stephen.
And the feast of Holy Innocents is in remembrance of Matthew’s account of what happened after the Magi tricked Herod by not returning. Then Herod in his rage had his soldiers go and kill every male child under the age of two. Every year, on December 28th, the Church honors those innocent victims of Herod’s cruel injustice. These Holy Innocents do get a day. But hardly anyone actually observes it because, you know, happy holidays and all that.
But listen to the Collect for their feast day: We remember today, O God, the slaughter of the holy innocents of Bethlehem by King Herod. Receive, we pray, into the arms of your mercy all innocent victims; and by your great might frustrate the designs of evil tyrants and establish your rule of justice, love, and peace.
When justice, love, and peace are afoot, there’s a reaction! The Holy Innocents’ day is placed right after Christmas, which reminds us of this connection . . . while we’re busy celebrating. This Christmas season we rejoice at the light shining in the darkness, yes. But the days set aside for St. Stephen and for the Holy Innocents stand as stark reminders that there is still darkness. We welcome the light, we welcome the salvation, but there is still darkness.
It’s tempting to say, well, those other children had to die so that Jesus could live—so that the salvation of all could be accomplished. I mean, that’s how we humans operate, right? We’re willing to sacrifice a few people for the benefit of the larger society. All governments around the world have some version of a cost-benefit analysis: “How many innocent deaths can we tolerate before we put up that stop sign?” And when we put it in terms like that, well the death of those innocent children at the hands of Herod gives us the benefit of salvation for all human beings. I mean, it’s definitely how wars work. We must have victory, even if it means bombing hospitals and schools. We must occupy this land, no matter how many innocent people are killed on the way. People made in the image of God, by the Word of God who spoke all things into existence, get dismissed as “collateral damage."
But that transactional way of thinking is not how God works. As I said on Christmas Eve, God values every person. Every. Created. Person. Trading one person for many is a human concept, yes, but it is not a Godly concept. (And I will gladly argue with Paul about his writing on that topic.) We would sacrifice one person to save 99. But Jesus leaves the 99 to find the one lost sheep. So in fact, God works the other way around. Jesus stands our thinking on its head. And for that reason, we dare not think of the slaughter of Holy Innocents as just needing to break a few eggs in order to make an omelet.
But back to the text we just heard. Note that the light shines in darkness. This is not the same as saying there is darkness or there is light. The presence of salvation does not remove evil. Our redemption shines in the midst of the evil. It does not remove it or prevent it. Knowing how the story ends does not remove the suffering on the way. But now, there is hope within the suffering, there is redemption within the evil, and there is light within the darkness.
In this Christmas season, we would like for everything to be okay, because now we have Jesus. But we know that’s not how life works. People woke up on December 26th—the feast of St. Stephen—still divorced, still grieving, still unemployed, still shunned and rejected by family and friends, still painfully aware of whatever darkness might surround you today. Christmas does not wipe away the darkness. In fact, you could say it illuminates it. Because the light shines within the darkness.
Christmas reminds us that a light shines in the darkness. Christmas lights a candle in the darkness. At the darkest time of the year, we surround ourselves with lights, and candles, and singing, and decorations, as signs of hope. We always have hope because of Jesus. Because we know how the story ends.
Back in the late 1300’s, Julian of Norwich wrote her “Revelations of Divine Love,” which—as I like to point out—is the earliest surviving manuscript written in English by a woman. Listen to what she says . . .
In my folly, before this time I often wondered why, by the great foreseeing wisdom of God, the onset of sin was not prevented: for then, I thought, all should have been well. . . . But Jesus . . . answered with these words and said: “It was necessary that there should be sin; but all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.” These words were said most tenderly, showing no manner of blame to me nor to any who shall be saved.
As we heard today from John—whose feast day sits right between St. Stephen the first martyr and the Holy Innocents—the Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. May God give us all the grace to always look for the light. Because the light is there. The light is always there. And the darkness will never overcome it.
Amen.
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