Advent Light
December 16, 2007
Isaiah 35:1-10; Matthew 11:2-11
Have you ever done one of those cave tours where they take you a ways into the side of a mountain and then ask if you want to experience absolutely dark? Then they turn out the lights and you literally cannot see your hand in front of you face. Then, after an appropriate interlude, during which your pupils widen completely, the guide flicks a lighter and it almost blinds you?
That’s what Advent light is like. It shines in the darkness and the darkness shall never overcome it. It opens the eyes of the blind.
To use Isaiah’s words, when the light shines, “The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus, it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing.”
As often happens for me, I understand this a bit better through artistic expressions. Last week it was a poem about hope, the week before that a song about peace, and this morning, another song. This one is called, “Light One Candle.” I suppose it’s a kind of Hanukkah/Advent song, written by Peter Yarrow.
Light one candle for the Maccabee children
With thanks that their light didn’t die
Light one candle for the pain they endured
When their right to exist was denied
Light one candle for the terrible sacrifice
Justice and freedom demand
But light one candle for the wisdom to know
When the peacemakers time is at hand
Don’t let the light go out!
It’s lasted for so many years!
Don’t let the light go out!
Let it shine through our love and our tears.
Light one candle for the strength that we need
To never become our own foe
And light one candle for those who are suffering
Pain we learned so long ago
Light one candle for all we believe in
That anger not tear us apart
And light one candle to find us together
With peace as the song in our hearts
What is the memory that’s valued so highly
That we keep it alive in that flame?
What’s the commitment to those who have died
That we cry out they’ve not died in vain?
We have come this far always believing
That justice would somehow prevail
This is the burden, this is the promise
This is why we will not fail!
©1983 Peter Yarrow/Silver Dawn Music (ASCAP)
I suppose, if I had to name quite simply, the charge of Advent, that would be it: don’t let the light go out. Tend to it. Guard it. Keep it alive, especially in these grey winter days when the darkness can get so oppressive.
Darkness comes in innumerable shades: depression, illness, longing, mourning, anxiety, stress, anger, fear, violence, war.
Advent faith does not promise an escape from the darkness, nor en end to it. It is a tempered faith that promises, rather, to light the way through the darkness.
A couple of years ago, when my father’s struggle with Parkinson’s disease was as yet undiagnosed and he was getting mysteriously sicker and sicker, I flew home to visit for a couple of days. The day before I got there, my brother Tim had taken mom out to get a Christmas tree and the first night I was there I helped mom decorate the tree.
I remember how much that simple ritual of lighting the tree brightened so much more than their living room that year. It was a sign of hope, for my mom, that even in the midst of the gathering darkness of my dad’s illness there was and would be light.
I’m sure that each of you have similar stories, and they are incredibly important to share and keep alive.
But lest Christmas be reduced to Hallmark cards sweetness, it is also incredibly important to remember that the power of the light born into the world on that first Christmas – the light whose coming again we anticipate now – shines not only in private, personal, family settings, but also shines its bright, transformative power into the darkest situations in the world, as this wonderful John McCutcheon song recalls in telling the true story of the Christmas truce of 1914 in the darkest days of the first world war.
My name is Francis Tolliver, I come from Liverpool,
Two years ago the war was waiting for me after school.
To Belgium and to Flanders to Germany to here
I fought for King and country I love dear.
'Twas Christmas in the trenches where the frost so bitter hung,
The frozen fields of France were still, no Christmas song was sung,
Our families back in England were toasting us that day,
Their brave and glorious lads so far away.
I was lying with my messmate on the cold and rocky ground
When across the lines of battle came a most peculiar sound
Says I, "Now listen up, me boys!" each soldier strained to hear
As one young German voice sang out so clear.
"He's singing bloody well, you know!" my partner says to me
Soon one by one each German voice joined in in harmony
The cannons rested silent, the gas clouds rolled no more
As Christmas brought us respite from the war.
As soon as they were finished and a reverent pause was spent
"God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" struck up some lads from Kent
The next they sang was "Stille Nacht," "Tis 'Silent Night'," says I
And in two tongues one song filled up that sky.
"There's someone coming towards us!" the front line sentry cried
All sights were fixed on one lone figure coming from their side
His truce flag, like a Christmas star, shone on that plain so bright
As he bravely strode unarmed into the night.
Soon one by one on either side walked into No Man's land
With neither gun nor bayonet we met there hand to hand
We shared some secret brandy and we wished each other well
And in a flare-lit soccer game we gave 'em hell.
We traded chocolates, cigarettes, and photographs from home
These sons and fathers far away from families of their own
Young Sanders played his squeeze box and they had a violin
This curious and unlikely band of men.
Soon daylight stole upon us and France was France once more
With sad farewells we each began to settle back to war
But the question haunted every heart that lived that wondrous night
"Whose family have I fixed within my sights?"
'Twas Christmas in the trenches, where the frost so bitter hung
The frozen fields of France were warmed as songs of peace were sung
For the walls they'd kept between us to exact the work of war
Had been crumbled and were gone for evermore.
My name is Francis Tolliver, in Liverpool I dwell
Each Christmas come since World War I I've learned its lessons well
That the ones who call the shots won't be among the dead and lame
And on each end of the rifle we're the same.
©1984 John McCutcheon/Appalsongs (ASCAP)
Advent is a time for gathering light against the darkness. Each week, we light one more candle until the entire sanctuary – even, perhaps, the entire world – is filled with holy light.
How do you know when you are in the presence of such light?
Well, “the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.”
Individuals lives are brightened and social worlds are transformed. Perhaps that’s why light is such a powerful metaphor – it breaks down the either/or that some folks want to put up to mark the distinction between individual faith and social action. Light knows no such artificial barriers. What shines brightly in your personal life will also shine brightly in the wider world.
We put our tree up at home yesterday afternoon, and will decorate it today, to light up our family hearth. Then this evening, at 5:00, we’ll go down to Lafayette Park to shine the same light in the public square.
This season opens space unlike any other time of year, when we have the opportunity to transgress the line between public and private space and to open each to a holy illumination.
So, no matter how you deck your own halls and no matter if you respond to today’s invitation to lift high the light of peace in the public square, do open yourself to the light of God’s love and allow it to shine through you wherever you are.
Isaiah 35:1-10; Matthew 11:2-11
Have you ever done one of those cave tours where they take you a ways into the side of a mountain and then ask if you want to experience absolutely dark? Then they turn out the lights and you literally cannot see your hand in front of you face. Then, after an appropriate interlude, during which your pupils widen completely, the guide flicks a lighter and it almost blinds you?
That’s what Advent light is like. It shines in the darkness and the darkness shall never overcome it. It opens the eyes of the blind.
To use Isaiah’s words, when the light shines, “The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus, it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing.”
As often happens for me, I understand this a bit better through artistic expressions. Last week it was a poem about hope, the week before that a song about peace, and this morning, another song. This one is called, “Light One Candle.” I suppose it’s a kind of Hanukkah/Advent song, written by Peter Yarrow.
Light one candle for the Maccabee children
With thanks that their light didn’t die
Light one candle for the pain they endured
When their right to exist was denied
Light one candle for the terrible sacrifice
Justice and freedom demand
But light one candle for the wisdom to know
When the peacemakers time is at hand
Don’t let the light go out!
It’s lasted for so many years!
Don’t let the light go out!
Let it shine through our love and our tears.
Light one candle for the strength that we need
To never become our own foe
And light one candle for those who are suffering
Pain we learned so long ago
Light one candle for all we believe in
That anger not tear us apart
And light one candle to find us together
With peace as the song in our hearts
What is the memory that’s valued so highly
That we keep it alive in that flame?
What’s the commitment to those who have died
That we cry out they’ve not died in vain?
We have come this far always believing
That justice would somehow prevail
This is the burden, this is the promise
This is why we will not fail!
©1983 Peter Yarrow/Silver Dawn Music (ASCAP)
I suppose, if I had to name quite simply, the charge of Advent, that would be it: don’t let the light go out. Tend to it. Guard it. Keep it alive, especially in these grey winter days when the darkness can get so oppressive.
Darkness comes in innumerable shades: depression, illness, longing, mourning, anxiety, stress, anger, fear, violence, war.
Advent faith does not promise an escape from the darkness, nor en end to it. It is a tempered faith that promises, rather, to light the way through the darkness.
A couple of years ago, when my father’s struggle with Parkinson’s disease was as yet undiagnosed and he was getting mysteriously sicker and sicker, I flew home to visit for a couple of days. The day before I got there, my brother Tim had taken mom out to get a Christmas tree and the first night I was there I helped mom decorate the tree.
I remember how much that simple ritual of lighting the tree brightened so much more than their living room that year. It was a sign of hope, for my mom, that even in the midst of the gathering darkness of my dad’s illness there was and would be light.
I’m sure that each of you have similar stories, and they are incredibly important to share and keep alive.
But lest Christmas be reduced to Hallmark cards sweetness, it is also incredibly important to remember that the power of the light born into the world on that first Christmas – the light whose coming again we anticipate now – shines not only in private, personal, family settings, but also shines its bright, transformative power into the darkest situations in the world, as this wonderful John McCutcheon song recalls in telling the true story of the Christmas truce of 1914 in the darkest days of the first world war.
My name is Francis Tolliver, I come from Liverpool,
Two years ago the war was waiting for me after school.
To Belgium and to Flanders to Germany to here
I fought for King and country I love dear.
'Twas Christmas in the trenches where the frost so bitter hung,
The frozen fields of France were still, no Christmas song was sung,
Our families back in England were toasting us that day,
Their brave and glorious lads so far away.
I was lying with my messmate on the cold and rocky ground
When across the lines of battle came a most peculiar sound
Says I, "Now listen up, me boys!" each soldier strained to hear
As one young German voice sang out so clear.
"He's singing bloody well, you know!" my partner says to me
Soon one by one each German voice joined in in harmony
The cannons rested silent, the gas clouds rolled no more
As Christmas brought us respite from the war.
As soon as they were finished and a reverent pause was spent
"God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" struck up some lads from Kent
The next they sang was "Stille Nacht," "Tis 'Silent Night'," says I
And in two tongues one song filled up that sky.
"There's someone coming towards us!" the front line sentry cried
All sights were fixed on one lone figure coming from their side
His truce flag, like a Christmas star, shone on that plain so bright
As he bravely strode unarmed into the night.
Soon one by one on either side walked into No Man's land
With neither gun nor bayonet we met there hand to hand
We shared some secret brandy and we wished each other well
And in a flare-lit soccer game we gave 'em hell.
We traded chocolates, cigarettes, and photographs from home
These sons and fathers far away from families of their own
Young Sanders played his squeeze box and they had a violin
This curious and unlikely band of men.
Soon daylight stole upon us and France was France once more
With sad farewells we each began to settle back to war
But the question haunted every heart that lived that wondrous night
"Whose family have I fixed within my sights?"
'Twas Christmas in the trenches, where the frost so bitter hung
The frozen fields of France were warmed as songs of peace were sung
For the walls they'd kept between us to exact the work of war
Had been crumbled and were gone for evermore.
My name is Francis Tolliver, in Liverpool I dwell
Each Christmas come since World War I I've learned its lessons well
That the ones who call the shots won't be among the dead and lame
And on each end of the rifle we're the same.
©1984 John McCutcheon/Appalsongs (ASCAP)
Advent is a time for gathering light against the darkness. Each week, we light one more candle until the entire sanctuary – even, perhaps, the entire world – is filled with holy light.
How do you know when you are in the presence of such light?
Well, “the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.”
Individuals lives are brightened and social worlds are transformed. Perhaps that’s why light is such a powerful metaphor – it breaks down the either/or that some folks want to put up to mark the distinction between individual faith and social action. Light knows no such artificial barriers. What shines brightly in your personal life will also shine brightly in the wider world.
We put our tree up at home yesterday afternoon, and will decorate it today, to light up our family hearth. Then this evening, at 5:00, we’ll go down to Lafayette Park to shine the same light in the public square.
This season opens space unlike any other time of year, when we have the opportunity to transgress the line between public and private space and to open each to a holy illumination.
So, no matter how you deck your own halls and no matter if you respond to today’s invitation to lift high the light of peace in the public square, do open yourself to the light of God’s love and allow it to shine through you wherever you are.
posted by David Ensign at
11:56 AM
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