Out of Darkness
First Congregational Church of Wauwatosa
Christmas Eve – December 24, 2007
Rev. Steven A. Peay, Ph.D.
[texts: Isaiah 9:2-7/Titus 2:11-14/Luke 2:1-20]

“In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night.” That verse from Luke conjures up quite the peaceful picture. Stars twinkling, sky like black velvet, the galaxies and planets stretching out, all reflecting the majesty and glory of God. There’s something almost romantic about it, especially when we come out of the warmth and brightness of our holiday decked halls to come to church.

There’s certainly a romance to it for children at home “all tucked in the beds,” though now the vision of sugarplums has surely changed to visions of the latest toys and gadgets – visions of ipods, game boys, and x-boxes dancing in their heads! For the children the night is simply the necessary prelude to the morning, but it is in the night that the gifts will come making their Christmas bright.

Our vision of this night is reflected by what we sing:

“O holy night, the stars are brightly shining…”

“It came upon a midnight clear. . .”

“Silent night, holy night; all is calm, all is bright. . .”

But we need to remember, like the children know, that the night is meant to give way to day. We come to worship on this because Isaiah’s prophecy was fulfilled in Bethlehem: “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness – on them light has shined.”

For us the night may be romantic, may be a bit sentimental and something to sing about. However, it was not always so. Professor A. Roger Ekirch has written a delightful and informative study At Day’s Close: Night in Times Past. What becomes clear from reading this text is that “keeping watch by night” was far from romantic. He points out that “Night was man’s first necessary evil, our oldest and most haunting terror. Amid the gathering darkness and cold our prehistoric forbears must have felt profound fear, not least over the prospect that one morning the sun might fail to appear.” [p. 3] Ekirch chronicles the perils of the night from crime to fire to the “noxious humors” and “night demons” which might overcome the unsuspecting person who left safe quarters and wandered abroad. The night was a dangerous time, because our most valuable sense – sight – was rendered almost useless.

To some extent night continues to be a dangerous time, even in our day of high technology and vast amounts of artificial light. Because, you see, there is a darkness, a night that can envelop us which deadens more than our physical senses. It is this darkness that is scattered by the One born on that long-ago night. It into our darkness that Christ is born; a darkness that forgets what it means to live in harmony, justice and peace, but rather seeks its own way, its own advantage, even at the expense of others. God comes into our darkness to transform it, to bring light into its midst and to make it bright. As Biblical scholars and historians remind us, the gospels don’t tell us when Jesus was born. Some think, as the late Raymond Brown pointed out in his magisterial study The Birth of the Messiah, that the shepherds in the field reference mean the Jesus was born sometime between March and November. The only reason we celebrate this night is because the early Church wanted to counter the Roman celebration of Saturnalia, which included the winter solstice – SoI Invictus, the unconquerable sun. So the church began celebrating on December 25th, wanting to point out that the true light, the true sun, both

s-u-n and S-o-n had risen on us and darkness had been overcome. God comes into our darkness to transform it, to bring light into its midst and make it bright.

As the South African theologian and preacher Joseph Donders has written:

“We celebrate the birth of Jesus in the middle of this night to indicate the darkness in which we lived and live. It is only when we understand that darkness, its terror, its crimes, its loneliness, and its desolation that we can comprehend and experience what a wonderful thing the light was that was lit when Jesus appeared in this world. Hope at last, finally a beginning, finally a new start, a divinely good human life, light to the world.” [The Peace of Jesus, p. 26-7]It is only when we understand our darkness that we can transform it, transcend it. Perhaps that is why night plays such an important part in all of Charles Dickens’ Christmas books? Most of us know A Christmas Carol and the famous night-time “haunting” of Ebenezer Scrooge that brings about such a profound change that “it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and of all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!” [Oxford Illustrated ed., p. 76] But that same transformation, redemption, infusion of hope of being different is there in The Chimes, The Cricket on the Hearth, The Battle of Life and The Haunted Man. Over and over Dickens tries to tell his readers the same thing we read in Scripture – there is more to you than you see, and that more is better, now realize it and live like it.

On that long ago silent night, holy night a light shone from the manger that made the stars and the sun look dim. The Oriens, the Day-Star came into our darkness, came into our very flesh on that night, so we might know afresh the Divine image and likeness in which we were made. This is what Irenaeus, the great teacher of the early Church, meant when he said, “God became man (human), so that man (humanity) might become God.” That is why Leo the Great told the people of Rome, “Christian be conscious of your dignity.” We have a dignity, we have a light within us that we must allow to shine.

Light has penetrated, suffused, overcome our darkness and we can no longer remain the same, not if we are at all sensible of what has happened. As the reading from Titus reminds us, “the grace of God has appeared bringing salvation for all . . . training us to renounce impiety and worldly passions, and in the present age to live lives that are self-controlled, upright, and godly. . .zealous for good deeds.”

There’s an old saying, “better to light just one candle than to curse the darkness.” In a few moment we’ll sing Silent Night and during the singing, we’ll pass t the light. As candle ignites candle, the light will grow and, soon, this meeting house will be bathed in light. It’s a touching, a romantic, a sentimental moment, but to be honest, it’s far more than that – it’s a powerful reminder of who we are and the difference we can make in the world, if we open ourselves to the Light which came into the world to “enlighten every person.”

As we pass the light this year, I pray that each of us will renew our commitment to live as followers of Jesus Christ; that we will allow the light to shatter our darkness and shine to the benefit and good of others. Out of our darkness light can shine; out of our darkness a difference can be made; all because long ago – and at this very moment – God is with us, Emmanuel. The light has shone on us, out of darkness.

Pray with me, please: God and Father of Jesus, on this holy night you give us your Son, the Lord of the universe and the savior of all peoples, as an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. In the first moments of his life you showed us the paradox of your love. Open us up to the mystery of his powerlessness and enable us to recognize him in the plain spoken word of Scripture and each time we come to the simple meal in which we remember him. Out of darkness let light shine and goodness come on this night and each day of our lives. This we ask in his name, the Light who came into our world, even Jesus Christ our Lord who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God for ever and ever. Amen.