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November 19, 2006 Light Shines in the DarknessJust as the world around us is gearing up for holiday fun, feasts, football, and festivals of light, the church turns towards the darkness. Bah, humbug. As we get into Advent, we put before us is the gathering gloom, the winter solstice, when night seems to defeat the day. At the end of each liturgical year and the beginning of the next one, starting today, we haul out the apocalyptic passages of the Bible.
The judgment of the world, a time of anguish, a time to flee to the mountains, the moon turning to blood. A voice crying in the wilderness, the coming of the One who will baptize with fire. The desolating sacrilege, the shattering of the temple, abuse and persecution. The fearful thing that it is to fall into the hands of the living God.
Happy Holidays!
This apocalyptic message of the church can trigger emotions about the times we live in. Sometimes we feel that everything is going bad, that there isn’t much hope left in this polluted, violent, and overpopulated world we’ve managed to create. And, of course, the media uses fear to sell its product, by telling and re-telling horrible stories and painting the worst possible scenarios. Like people driving slowly by a bad car accident, we lean out the window, gawking, in spite of our better instincts.
Meanwhile, everyday life goes on, of course: simple kindness, the shining sun, a lazy Saturday morning, good food and company. But in the back of our minds, never far from the surface, is a dark sense that maybe the Bible is right. Perhaps we’re all going down and there is nothing to stop us.
So what do we do with this creeping intuition? Well, some of us stick our heads in the sand. Why, people have always predicted the end of the world, and it never comes. Global warming isn’t scientifically proven. We’ll muddle through this time, just like we always do. Others resort to naïve optimism. Golly, we can lick this thing if we all get together and work hard. Tinkerbell says if we just believe, we can do anything. Still others resign themselves to despair and cynicism. They don’t even try.
The sacred scriptures of our Judeo-Christian tradition hold out another alternative. This alternative is optimistic but not naïve, realistic but not cynical. It faces reality, does not pretend that everything will turn out rosy, but nevertheless lives in ultimate hope. We find it in story after story in the Bible.
Things were always bad for them. After all, in their 3,200-year history, the Jews have only had control over their own country for about 300 years. Otherwise, they’ve been occupied by oppressors or exiled. As soon as Christians began to grow their young community after Jesus’ resurrection, they were crushed, scattered, persecuted.
Their world was always ending, and yet they always had hope. But it was not the hope that you and I usually try to have; it was not about things getting better in their lifetime. It was not about happy endings for themselves.
They took the longer view. They looked beyond their lifetime, beyond the age they lived in, beyond the sweep of human history itself. They held out the perspective of God’s eternity.
· The reading from Daniel today speaks of a time of anguish that would come, such as never before, but that those who are wise would shine like the brightness of the sky.
· Our lesson from Hebrews acknowledges abuse and persecution, plunder and imprisonment. But it goes on to speak of the coming of the promised one, and how we are therefore to have confidence and endurance.
· And in the gospel, Jesus talks about yet another desolating sacrilege, fleeing to the hills, suffering such as not has been from the beginning of creation. But as he continues beyond today’s reading, he points to the coming of the Son of man in power and glory, and the angels who will gather the elect.
These stories are open-eyed, realistic about the times they lived in, and yet hopeful that in God’s time, all would be well. They had no idea how it would be well, and so they could only speak in poetic, mythic terms: the righteous shining like the sun, the Messiah coming on clouds of glory.
This hope has often been derided as pie-in-the-sky, as an attitude that engenders passivity in the face of suffering. But in fact, it has had the opposite effect. Jews and Christians have been among the most socially-active forces in history. We’ve invented hospitals, public schools, democracy, a humane justice system, the end of slavery, and a social commitment to care for the most vulnerable among us. Because we’re realistic about this world, and because we know that God is not going to make it all better for us in the here and now, we’ve gotten to work doing it ourselves.
But we also have this ultimate trust that when it is all said and done, God will prevail. We don’t know how or when, but we know that goodness, love, and life will triumph. We know how the story ends: the light always shines in the darkness, and the darkness will never overcome it. All shall be well. And this enables us to work for good without fear, because the ultimate outcome is not dependent on the success of our efforts. That’s the Judeo-Christian story.
A few weeks ago I was talking with a young man who attends church here once in awhile, and has observed our congregation closely. He gets around to other Jewish and Christian congregations that are also socially active and spiritually grounded. But he regularly attends a non-Christian faith community.
He told me that one of the main differences that stands out is that his community’s involvement in social causes is riddled with anger and anxiety – they seem to feel that it is up to them to save the world, and it’s a losing battle. By contrast, he notices that in the Judeo-Christian communities, social engagement is more relaxed, more confident. Our light shines in the darkness, and we know that the darkness will never overcome it. We know that all shall be well.
What difference does this make for your daily life? Plenty. You are inundated with images and information about how bad things are. In the face of this reality, you have a choice. You have tremendous power, in fact. You can choose how to respond. You can stick your head in the sand, you can insist on a naïve optimism, you can be fueled by anger and fear to save the world, you can become pessimistic and give up. Or you can shine confidently and do good, regardless of any outcome you might be able to see in your lifetime.
We can choose what kind of message to immerse ourselves in; and the narrative we choose will shape our life. Our tradition says to us: immerse yourself in God’s story as told in our sacred scriptures. Our Bible expresses again and again a realistic, engaged, and ultimately hopeful message. This story can become your story. However, it won’t happen by magic. It will only happen if you immerse yourself in it - if you read it, let it in, take it seriously, and apply it to your life.
For our Collect of the Day this morning, we used an ancient prayer that Anglicans have been using continually since 1549:
Blessed Lord, who caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning; Grant us so to hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that we may embrace and hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life.
Our tradition gives us something realistic and yet very hopeful for these difficult days we live in. It gives us the blessed hope of everlasting life enshrined in the Bible. Read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest this story, so that it becomes your own.
Then you will know that while the Advent that we live in can be dark, the light of God’s holy child will come. Then you will do good wherever you go, with confidence, without worrying about results. And you will know for yourself what Jesus told us:
Have no fear, for I have overcome the world.
End Document — St. Michael and All Angels Episcopal Church