The Dawn
Rev. Richard H. Thompson, December 13, 2009
"O Come Thou Dayspring, come and cheer our spirits by Thine advent here, and drive away the shades of night, and pierce the clouds and bring us light. Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel!"
Like so many of us a couple of weeks ago I was up on my ladder stringing the lights under the eves, hooking up the extension cord to the timer, setting the lights to come on at dusk, well before 5:00. These are dark days when the sun travels low and swiftly and night drops onto us like winter chill. Maybe that's why I was up on my ladder hanging these strings of lights. Maybe that's why my wife and I wrapped our banister not just with garland- they had also had to have lights. Then there's the Christmas tree. We used to put on three or four, maybe five strands with those bigger bulbs. But now you can get them with 200 bulbs each. With just five strings that's a thousand lights! The more the better I say. Because those cheery little bulbs gives us a little lift, don't they? They help chase away the darkness.
So I got all the lights hung on the edge of my house and with some anticipation went back into the garage and flipped the little switch on the timer to "ON". I went back outside to admire my handiwork- to see my statement, my defiant challenge to winter darkness. Not a single bulb was on. Not a one...
I tried changing the fuses. I tested my extension cord. I tested the timer. Sure enough. It was the lights. I had broken the cardinal rule of putting up Christmas lights. Okay, let's all say it together, "Always test the lights before you put them up". What to do? The answer is simple. Because darkness is unacceptable. I went out to the hardware store and bought new lights, hauled out my ladder once again, pulled down the old ones, salvaged the good bulbs, and then I went through the whole drill once more of hanging the lights. I know I'm not alone. I've talked to a few of you. I'm not the only one who's broken the cardinal rule. We all do the same. It's amazing the lengths we'll go to to push back the darkness...
I think that's because the dark makes us feel things none of us like to feel. In the night we begin to imagine things. Our fears take power from the dark. Rick Warren says FEAR stands for False Evidence Appearing Real. So children imagine monsters in the closet or under the bed. Adults envision other kinds of monsters and disasters, rejection, and worst case scenarios. That's why we call them "nightmares". But they are not all pure fantasy, are they?
Zechariah understood what this is like. He was an old man who lived a hard life in difficult times under foreign occupation. King Herod was a cruel ruler who bent the knee to Caesar. That meant the government demanded blood along with taxes. Maybe Zechariah felt what so many feel, a sense of being trapped with no way out. It's a lonely feeling.
It's one of the other things we hate about darkness. We feel our fears, and we feel like we are alone. Maybe it's one of humankind's greatest fears- loneliness. Perhaps you've seen some of the reports coming out on studies done by sociologists on loneliness. They're finding that loneliness is contagious. That it's like a disease. Here's what happens. It starts with a sense that the world is hostile which begins to become a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy. A person becomes alert to social threats and takes self-protective action which is paradoxically self-defeating. The result is lonely people become stand offish and eventually withdraw. What happens? Their former friends are now less well connected. So now they become more vulnerable to also feeling less connected, and therefore they become more suspicious of others, which leads them to also mistrust the world. And the vicious cycle of loneliness continues.
We run from loneliness in different directions. Loneliness can drive us into unhealthy relationships in which people get used to fulfill someone's fantasy or need. It can also lead to rationalizations for loneliness, that we don't need anyone, that we are "self-sufficient". But God said after he created the man, before he created the woman, "It is not good for the man to be alone." Not good not just because he needs a companion, but also not good because he might start to believe he can do it all by himself. He can become arrogant- believe he is independent. This is one reason why the woman is different than the man. She does not see things the way he does ... does she? So there is healthy opposition and conflict. This is a good thing(!) Because we all need to be reminded that we are not self-sufficient. Vive la difference.
When we're in the dark we feel alone. We can also feel lost. It's what we mean when we say, "I'm in the dark". It's the sense of wandering around in the forest in the pitch of night. You walk into things, of off of things. You stumble and fall. And when you get up you're not sure which direction to head. You just guess. It's an awful feeling, to be lost, alone, in the dark.
Maybe we hang lights by the hundreds, by the thousands, because something inside holds out hope. Something in here yearns and believes that darkness, and night, and fear and loneliness and lostness will come to an end. The words of the prophet Isaiah said it this way to those who looked out at the ruins that were once Jerusalem:
"Arise, shine; for your light has come
and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you...
the Lord will arise upon you,
and his glory will appear over you
Nations shall come to your light
and kings to the brightness of your dawn."
(Isaiah 60: 1-3)
I love that Isaiah's not just talking about light. He's talking about "dawn". Ever get up early while it's still dark and get to a place where you can face east and wait for the sunrise? It's a good exercise to do this time of year. "Advent" means "coming". And the spiritual discipline for advent is "waiting". We wait for what we believe will come, don't we?
-Maybe it's a doctor's report.
-Or the letter from the university where you applied.
-Or we wait in line to send some presents to a loved one overseas.
-Or for the contractions to be close enough so you can bundle off to the hospital.
-Or for the illness to pass, the bones to heal, the loved one to forgive you.
-And like Isaiah, like old man Zechariah, we wait for the dawn of a new day.
The light of dawn doesn't just shine, it warms. It's not a cold, distant kind of light. It's right here, on your face, on your cheeks, seeping through your clothes onto your skin so that you feel a tingle all over. It's an intimate light. As you face the rising sun it's almost as if you are getting a cosmic hug that says, "No, you are not alone."
The other thing about dawn's light is that it always comes from one direction, from the east. We can count on that. The sun "orients" us, doesn't it? When we begin to see that glow we instantly regain our sense of direction. We are not as lost as we were before. We have some idea of perhaps how to proceed. This is important. This is why I'm convinced that the gift of GPS has saved many marriages.
Besides, the dawn brings a new day. We get a new beginning. It feels like forgiveness. We get to try again...
We get hope. But sometimes it's hard to believe. The angel Gabriel had told Zechariah his wife Elizabeth would, even in their old age, give birth to a son. Zechariah questioned the angel. So Gabriel struck Zechariah mute, because when it comes to God speaking it's always better to shut up and listen. Months later when Zecharaiah obeyed Gabriel and gave his son the name he was told to give him- John- he burst out in Holy Spirit song that we have come to call the Benedictus. It goes like this,
It's the last we ever hear from Zechariah. A good way to finish really-
"By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace."
I imagine if Zechariah had them he'd be stringing lights too! But not out of fear of darkness. He'd have hung them for the joy of knowing who was coming. He is called the Dayspring, the Dawn, the Light of the World, Emmanuel, God with us. Looking back now Jesus' birth was like a dawn, just the cracking of the horizon with piercing, warming, orienting, light. But that was just the beginning. His presence has gotten more and more intense down through the years. President of World Vision, Richard Stearns explains what we can see lately:
-Life expectancy in developing nations has increased from 46 years in 1960 to 66.1 in 2005.
-The under five child mortality rate has been cut in half since 1970.
-Preventable child deaths have fallen 50 percent since 1960 from more than 20 million per year to fewer than 10 million.
-The percentage of the world's people classified as hungry has been reduced from 33 to 18 percent over the past forty years.
-The percentage of people with access to clean water in developing countries went from 35 percent in 1975 to 80 percent in 2007.
-Polio has almost been eradicated from the globe.
-Adult literacy has risen from 43 to 77 percent since 1970.
(From The Hole in Our Gospel, Richard Stearns, p. 161)
There are over two billion Christians on the planet today. That's quite a string of lights, isn't it? Every little bulb is a statement that we are not lost and we are not alone.
The articles on loneliness offer that the antidote to loneliness is, no surprise, in finding ways for people to re-connect. But how does that begin to happen? I think it begins with you and me. It begins with you knowing, and me knowing, that we are loved. That as far as God is concerned, you and I are God's own. No matter what we might be tempted to tell ourselves, no matter what anyone else may have told us when we were kids, or who is telling us now. The dawn has already broken upon us. We have already been shown for who we really are. We are sons and daughters of the Most High. Loneliness begins and ends right here.
So we are called to defy the darkness, not just by hanging thousands of lights, but also helping re-connect lights that for some reason are out.
And we can do that lot's of ways, with phone calls, invitations, and check-in's, hospital visits, and personal words and listening and laughing and working alongside.
Some months ago I listened as a man in his upper years shared with a group that even having been a Christian for decades, he still sometimes wonders if it's true what Jesus promised- that there really is life after this life. "Or", as he put it, "Does it all just fade to black?" I think about him, a lot. And his question. Of course it's understandable. Who hasn't wondered the same? It's precisely this question that our Lord came to answer. It's what he was born to answer, and with his life, and his teaching about the kingdom of God, of heaven on earth, and what he died to make possible; that there is no just fading to black. That instead, in his rising, there will be our rising, like the dawn, to a whole new life. It's why Easter comes after Christmas.
I imagine in his upper years sometimes this man gets discouraged by his body not working so well. He can't get around as much as he used to, and life continues to be difficult. Maybe it seems some prayers don't get answered, and he wonders. And it begins to feel like darkness, and lonely. But isn't this where the community of Christians come in? Where worshiping together comes in? And working together on ways to hook up all the lights that then shine in the dark?
Tonight after the last car drives through the gate we have a Bethlehem Experience custom started by Dick Martin. The magi lead us as we follow with our candles lit, singing carols led by a Roman Centurion, as we process through the village, around the corner, to the manger. And there we huddle tight and warm against the cold night and remind ourselves of our deepest hope and joy. And we sing songs, like
Silent Night, Holy Night, Son of God, love's pure light,
radiant beams from thy holy face,
with the dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus, Lord at thy birth, Jesus, Lord at thy birth.
Thanks be to God.
Amen
Questions for Reflection and recommended reading.
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Westminster Presbyterian Church |