O God, you make us glad by the yearly festival of the birth of your only Son Jesus Christ: Grant that we, who joyfully receive him as our Redeemer, may with sure confidence behold him when he comes to be our Judge; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.[BCP 212]
Does Christmas catch anyone off-guard? Does it really sneak up on anyone? Today, our Collects shift focus from the promise of a savior, to the deliverance on God’s promise! So much of our focus, as a community, is on the joyfulness of the season, but I wonder just how real that is. Many folks will be spending time in hospital; many will be facing eviction or homelessness; many will be facing the first Christmas without one of thirty thousand people who died through gun violence this year – about half by suicide. Many will be experiencing the holidays following marital break-ups or empty nests.
“O God, you MAKE us glad …” Make us? Well, yes, but let me explain. First of all, the word “glad” doesn’t just mean happy. It comes from a P.I.E. word meaning “to shine.” Our cultural tendency is to, first of all, follow our ego. I don’t intend to minimize loss, death, or tragic circumstances in which one may find themselves. But the Christian faith focuses outwardly. The Commands are to love God thoroughly, and to love one’s neighbor as oneself. So while one’s personal circumstances may be hurting, our prayer brings to mind something else. “God, you make us SHINE by the yearly festival of the birth …” In other words, yes, times may be tough, and yes, you may be experiencing terrible, horrible, debilitating loss(es), but the sight of God’s salvation dropping into our midst is cause for joy and great happiness. Our happiness isn’t based upon our circumstances, but upon God’s very actions, which we remember this day or night.
We know dark days. This season is known for the long dark nights, and days which are short and cold. People in our families and in our communities suffer from the seasonal blues, grave depression, and far too much sugar, alcohol, or other mind-numbing substances. It has been throughout this season of growing darkness that we in the Church have begun to fight that darkness, symbolically at the very least. Candle by candle, we’ve grown the light. One candle, two candles, three, and four. It’s not much in a world of darkness, but it’s something.
Have you slipped into a cold dark church at night? We have our electric lights now, of course. But as a parish priest, often first on site for our various liturgies, I stand in awe of the power of darkness. Standing in a dark church, listening to the floorboards creak and groan as they adjust to changes in temperature or humidity, I do not flip the lights on. I enjoy the darkness, the quiet, the lack of turmoil. Here there are no cash registers beeping and buzzing. No Santas ringing bells while standing by their collection drums. No so-called Christmas music blaring incessantly on tinny overhead speakers. No, just the sounds of the church breathing. Off in the distance, behind the altar, a faint light – red – flickers. It is the Sanctuary Lamp, and signals the Real Presence of Christ in the Reserved Sacrament behind the Altar (either in a Tabernacle or an Aumbry).
The Sanctuary Lamp does not provide enough illumination to really do much of anything except … it points the way. I know the geographical layout of the church. I don’t need a map. I don’t need a flashlight. I know I need only walk forward to the center aisle (avoiding a baptismal font I know stands there at the first crossing). I turn ninety degrees and walk the center aisle twenty paces, then up onto the chancel steps, then three more steps to the Sanctuary rail – and up one step toward the Altar. Now I am in the Holy of Holies, and the Sanctuary Lamp is much closer, much brighter.
Yes, I could have flipped on the lights, but I enjoy the darkness. It isn’t cold. It isn’t scary. It isn’t foreboding. I have no desire or intention of doing anything “bad” in the darkness. I am allowing God to embrace me in the darkness, and after that hug, I find I am ready to turn on the lights. When the church is ablaze with modern day lighting, I find my breath taken away by the sight of poinsettias and flowers and candles and the miracle that I made my way through the church without running into any of them (because I was so caught up in the reverie of the magic of Christmas Eve, I’d forgotten the Altar Guild had set things up for the wonderful Christmas Eve service that will soon be starting – oops).
As a youngster, my view of God was much different than it is now. As a child, when I heard tell of God as “judge,” I thought of the Sistine Chapel God – the scowling God, the angry God, the ready to toss your hide into the fires God. Today, knowing Jesus is my Redeemer, my view of God as judge has changed. He’s still old; I can’t get that image out of my head. But scowling? Not on your life. Jesus is our Redeemer. That means when we get to heaven and get to the gate, Jesus is standing there and shouts out to Saint Peter, “Hey, that’s Keith; I’ve got a coupon for him!” Jesus redeems my coupon, and that’s how I get in. It isn’t based on good works or deeds, or having the right theology or right answers. Those don’t hurt, obviously, but you and I get in because Jesus is holding the coupons, and God is so glad to see us. God is the Judge who scores us a ten, no matter what.
Christmas, it turns out, isn’t about how happy we are to see a baby lying in a manger; it’s about how happy God is to see us! That makes us glad. Tonight, we light the Christ Candle!
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