First Sunday after Christmas Dec 29 2024 Grace Episcopal Church, Mpls
Isaiah 61:10-62:3, Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7, John 1:1-18, Psalm 147 or 147:13-21
My most recent viewing obsession is Stranger Things. I got on the roller coaster late in the ride, but I’m all caught up, and the drop to the finish is thrilling. A major motif in Stranger Things is darkness and light. But, as it is with the best of storytelling, sometimes it takes some work to find the cracks of light that will bring healing and hope. I think Stranger Things is a great story, not only because of the landscape of dark and light, there’s so much more to be said about community and communion, friendship and love, looking beyond oneself and into oneself to find belovedness, and - much of that must wait for another day. Today’s story, the story in John’s gospel, is also filled with darkness and light, inviting us to enter into the revelation, the epiphany, the inbreaking of God to our world - in new and wonderful ways.
Let's begin at the beginning, where John begins. John’s beginning is not like Matthew’s beginning, the genealogy tracing Joseph back to King David - and then an announcement from an angel, the next thing we know is that the baby is born. And John’s beginning is not like Luke’s beginning, the birth announced by an angel, recognized by Elizabeth, consented to by Mary. And Mark, Mark doesn’t even tell that part of the story.
John begins at the beginning; in the beginning was the Word. This gospel writer very intentionally places us at the beginning, the first words of the first book of the Holy Scripture that John had on his heart, in the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth. And John very intentionally introduces us to one of the themes that for him shapes all of faith, the light that is in the world. John situates Jesus in a truly cosmic landscape.
John’s beginning prologue parallels very intentionally the first chapter of Genesis - When God began to create the heavens and the earth, the earth was complete chaos, and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. And God saw that the light was good, and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.
The gospel writer begins, In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The Word was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through God, and without God not one thing came into being. What has come into being was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it.
I think it is really important that we understand that these stories we read from sacred scripture are not individual snippets of words, but have everything to do with the stories of our ancestors. These words inform our lives today, and this word is God’s Word. God, who wants to be known to us, and be in relationship with us.
These are words of Incarnation, Emmanuel, God in the flesh, birthed out of the waters of creation, the waters of baptism, the waters of new life. Bathed in the light that dispels the darkness. For John, there is hope that the smallest source of light might create the possibility of belief.
God speaks the Word into this world, Jesus dives into our lives for light, for love, for relationship, for connection. John calls us to turn around and face the Light, to fall on our knees and be forgiven. And today John calls us to be partners with him in showing the way to the Light. And for John, the darkness represents a lack of relationship and connection.
We are yet in the season of incarnation, God in the flesh meeting us in the flesh. God came to be with us in the flesh not to relieve us of the mess and the muck of this life, but in the flesh God stands by our side, takes our hand, sometimes even carries us, and loves us. And that kind of love changes us, we can't help but be changed. God in the flesh reminds us in our flesh that we don't need to be perfect because we are perfectly loved. We don't need to consume and acquire to possess worth; we are enough just the way we are created. God in the flesh reminds us in our flesh that we don't need to gain attention to earn God's love, God has already loved us into ourselves.
Incarnation is a mystery, and yet it is not so hard. Incarnation, God in the flesh, is about love in a very real and intimate sense, it is about God’s promise and commitment to you and to me to walk this journey with us, and it is about our commitment to love. Christmas is not about the presents; it is about God’s presence with us, and your presence with those whose path you cross.
And that’s where the rubber meets the road, isn’t it? Incarnation is about showing up, and showing forth the light that shines through all darkness. God in the flesh meets us in our flesh, and we must respond to God in the flesh, God’s grace upon grace, with love for our neighbor, love for those we like and for those we cannot abide, love for our immigrant neighbors, and love for the idiots who seem to not understand this basic tenant of God’s beloved people. We cannot disregard the connection we have to God and one another, and to those who are God’s beloveds - all of us. We live in the promise God made at creation and continues to show forth in every moment, when we look for the light through the darkness.
Love is born into human flesh. God stoops into our lives through the most fragile of body’s, in the most humble surroundings. And, at the very same time, although the place of humans is certainly small; we find ourselves dwarfed by both the creation and the Creator. Yet there’s more to the story. The Creator of the galaxies, eternal and unbegotten, emptied themself and was born as an infant. At the crossroads of time and space, God chose to become fully human, one of us. The light shines throughout the universe, and through the humblest of lives. Amen.
