A Meditation on the Light - Xmas Eve 2007 (Isaiah 9:2-6; Luke 2:1-20)

A Meditation on the Light
Isaiah 9:2-6; Luke 2:1-20
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Monday, 24 December, 2007
Christmas Eve

This has been a dark season. Advent began with a warning about the end times. “...They knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man.” The second week of Advent, John referred to his followers as a “brood of vipers” and warned about the “unquenchable fire.” Last week, it appeared John was beginning to doubt whether Jesus was the Messiah. We learned that the one to come was not going to be a royal king with all the trimmings.

The season of Advent has taken on a dark shade outside of the scriptures too. At the beginning of December a troubled young man entered a busy shopping mall in Omaha, Nebraska and shot several people before committing suicide. An cyclone tore through Bangladesh several weeks ago, and we hardly heard about it. The war in Iraq drags on. The homeless in Baltimore are hungry, out in the cold.

In our own homes, we face illness. We face grief. We face struggles of mind, body and spirit. We ache.

The darkness of the Advent scriptures seems to seep into our bones, yet without the hope that those scriptures contain. Our hearts are heavier than our hastily filled Christmas shopping bags.

Finally, yesterday we heard the story of Christ’s birth, a story which we are repeating tonight. The light has come, once more, into the world, in the form of the child in the manger. Our Advent wreath now glows in its full glory as we celebrate the miracle that took place in the little town of Bethlehem. The star that lit the way to the manger shines brightly in the candlelight that glows throughout our sanctuary this night.

Let us allow the light of this night -- the warm light in this place, the light of the star above the manger -- seep into our bones. Whether we are truly in the midst of a merry Christmas, or whether our hearts are breaking, let us allow the hope of tonight to lighten our load a little.

When the baby Jesus was born so many years ago, God entered the world in human form. By so doing, our glorious, awesome God came to know the everyday life of humankind -- our joys, our trials, the mundane and the spectacular moments that make up human life. Can we not find hope in that? Can we not find hope in knowing that God experienced our life to such a degree that God’s own Son died on a cross?

Too often, we let go of hope, and there are times when God surely understands why we do so. But this night, wherever we are in the journey of our life, let us grasp on to the hope that is Emmanuel, God-with-us. Let us allow our hearts to mend, if only a little; let go of grudges and hatred; allow the babe in the manger to lighten our load.

Perhaps the hope of Christmas Eve will only last this one night for you, but by allowing the infant hand of the Christ-child to wrap you around his little finger, you might -- you just might -- begin to heal your soul.

Set aside your pain tonight, and let the light of Christ illumine you.

Now let us pray.