The Bible readings for our Christmas liturgy start off by addressing “the people who walked in darkness.” Hey, that’s us. We’re the people who walk in darkness. We’re in darkness because of a pandemic which just won’t go away. We’re in darkness because of a national unwillingness to deal with endemic racism. We’re in darkness because of a system where the rich keep getting richer and the poor keep getting poorer and devil take the hindmost. And that’s not even to mention our personal darknesses – family troubles, health concerns, financial worries. The Bible calls it “the land of gloom” and that sounds about right. It feels like a land of gloom right now, doesn’t it. For that reason, we hear with great relief the good news of this season that “the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.” Finally, some light to relieve us from this darkness which at times seems unending. What is this great light that will get us out of our funk? A child is born to us, a son is given us.
Excuse me. A child? Did you not hear how serious the darkness is? Don’t we need a mighty warrior, a strong hero, a valiant leader, a powerful champion to lead us out of the land of gloom? Christmas says otherwise. Christmas says that it is precisely the characteristics of a child that enable us to walk in the light. Think of welcoming a child into your life. The child born this night exhibited all the characteristics of every child and it is precisely as a child that he brought us out of the land of gloom and into abundant joy and great rejoicing. This child brings us to the light not through strength but through weakness. Caesar Augustus could boss everyone around. “You, go there to be enrolled.” And Caesar is just exhibit A – history is full of examples of characters who tried to impose their will on others. This child couldn’t take care of himself, much less become boss around others. In his weakness he showed how God chose to operate – not throwing around thunderbolts, but accepting human limitation. One of the things a child does really well – besides eat and sleep – is cry. Crying says that something is not right, that things need to get better. The child born for us, the son given to us cries and that enables us to see a great light – the light that comes in understanding that God isn’t finished, that there is reason for hope, that a change is going to come. A crying baby on Christmas morning is the promise of a brighter tomorrow.
The image of a crying baby demonstrates that this child needs others. When a child cries the parents feed or change or rock the child. Without others the child fails to thrive. The birth of this child Christmas morning reminds us that we need others if we are to walk in the light. There are no lone rangers around the manger. We only walk out of the land of gloom hand in hand with other people. Since this is so we should notice three of the not often talked about Christmas virtues: hospitality – a willingness to go out of our comfort zone and welcome other people into our lives, forgiveness – for whenever you have two people rubbing up against each other there will be the giving and the taking of wounds, and courage – “do not be afraid,” the angels sang because the light come into the world is meant for all the people. Because we are together, each of our little lights makes a mighty fire when it is joined with others.
Another thing, the child born on Christmas morning shows us a way out of darkness and into the light because he was part of a people, a people remarkably like us. His father was a craftsman, his mother never expected life outside her town, they struggled to find adequate housing and the child was greeted first by working class stiffs on the night shift. He was not a member of the elite, the privileged, the blue bloods, the crème of society. No, the light he brought came to the ordinary, the everyday people who had to struggle to make it. Yes, the presence of the angels was a bit out of the ordinary – seldom do angel choirs announce a birth today – but it was the ordinariness of a child being born – something we all have in common – that enabled us to walk in the light. The child does not explain away the darkness but simply shares it with us and that brings the light into the ordinariness of life.
It was a dark and stormy Christmas eve on the heath – blowing wind, freezing cold, swirling snow. Farmer MacGregor decided to settle in for the night so he bolted the door, latched the windows and banked the fire. He curled up in his down comforter and drop off to sleep. He woke with a start when he heard a sound of rapping. Tap-Tap-Tap. “It’s nae a fit night for man nor beast,” Farmer MacGregor thought. “No one would be out on a night like this. It must be the wind.” So he curled up in his blanket and dozed off. He woke again. Tap-tap-tap. “It’s nae a fit night for man nor beast. It must be a branch banging against the house.” So he rolled over and tried to get warm. The tapping sounded again. As he got out of bed to investigate he thought, “It’s nae a fit night for man nor beast.” But when he opened the door there was a small child there, shivering in the cold. Farmer MacGregor scooped him in his arms, dried him off, brought him to the fire, wrapped him in blankets and gave him a hot cocoa. Then the child looked at Farmer MacGregor and said. “You know, of course, I am the child Jesus.” The old man was surprised. “But you look just like any other child,” he said. “Don’t put it that way,” said the boy, “Say rather, every other child looks just like me.”
