"The Light Shines in the Darkness" (Longest Night sermon)

Chetwynd Shared Ministry

December 17, 2017

"Longest Night" Service

Scripture:  Isaiah 9:2, 6-7

 

In northern parts of the world, the month of December is a very dark time.  One morning earlier this week, I watched the sun rise behind the hills out that window there at 10:10 in the morning, and just over 5 ½ hours later, I watched it set behind the hills at 3:50 in the afternoon.  With so few hours of daylight each day and so many hours of darkness each night, it is very easy to start feeling down.

And then on top of it all, we are in the middle of the season of Christmas.  Every time we go into a store or turn on the radio, we hear songs telling us to have a holly, jolly Christmas, or songs about a reindeer named Rudolph, or songs telling us that the world is full of Joy.  Turn on your TV and you’re likely to come across Christmas movies with their predictable happily-ever-after ending.  For anyone who is having a difficult time in life, this forced jolly-ness can feel like a slap in the face; a constant reminder that we don’t or can’t feel jolly.

Chetwynd isn’t the only place in the world that sits in darkness at this time of year.  There is a town in northern Norway named Rjukan; and like Chetwynd, Rjukan sits in a valley surrounded by mountains.  But because this town is further north and the mountains are higher, and up until 4 years ago, Rjukan used to not see the sun for almost 6 months of every year – from late September until mid-March.

But the town now has sunlight in the winter.  They have built and installed giant mirrors on top of the mountains around town, and these mirrors track the sun and reflect light down into the town.  The people in town describe it as warming – not physically warming but mentally warming.

The interesting thing is that there was a lot of resistance to building these mirrors.  An artist who lives in Rjukan, Martin Andersen, was the one who initiated the project, and when he was asked about the resistance to the project, he had a very profound response.  He said, “What it was, I think, is that living in the shade must make you afraid to dream of the sun.”[1]

Living in the shade or the shadows makes us afraid to dream of being in the sunlight again.

I learned this week from a friend in Nova Scotia that tonight, December 17 2017, is the Celtic Christmas celebration.  Tonight is the new moon – there will be no moonlight tonight, even if the sky is clear, making tonight the darkest night in the darkest month.  And so tonight is the night when we can remember and celebrate God’s light, the light that is Christ, coming into a darkened world.

We heard words read this evening from the prophet Isaiah, words that are often read at Christmas – “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.”

This idea is echoed in the opening of the gospel of John which we didn’t read this evening.  John wrote, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  He was in the beginning with God.  All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.  What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people.  The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”

That is a powerful thought – that the light of Christ shines into a darkened place, and the darkness can never overcome the light.  Think of a darkened room, or a dark cave.  If you light just one candle, or even a match, or these days the screen of a cell phone, you break the darkness.  As long as the match or the screen stays lit, you can never be in darkness.

At Christmas, we remember the birth of the infant Christ.  We remember the time when the God who created the heavens and the earth was born as a vulnerable human baby.  But if we look forward to the other great Christian festival, Easter, we can see a time when the world tried to put out the light of Christ.  On Good Friday, we remember the trial and the crucifixion of Jesus Christ;  and if we were to stop at Good Friday, it might seem as though the world had won.  It might seem as through the darkness had managed to extinguish the light of Christ.

But the good news is that the story doesn’t end on Friday.  The good news is that on the third day, on Easter Sunday, the tomb is empty and Christ is risen.  The darkness hasn’t had the final word; the light of Christ can never be extinguished.

And this is the hope that we can cling to, even when the darkness in our lives threatens to overwhelm us.  This is the hope that we can cling to in the midst of pain or grief or suffering or loss.

When we are living through these shadow times, it is often easy to feel like the people in that town of Rjukan, Norway.  It is often easy to feel afraid of the light because we have become so used to living in the darkness.

But as we approach Christmas, I invite you to let go of this fear, even for a short time.  I invite you to allow the light of Christ to enter into your darkness.  Remember that even when we are living through the Good Friday times of our lives, that Good Friday doesn’t last forever.  Easter is coming.  The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never overcome it.  Thanks be to God.

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[1] https://www.theguardian.com/world/2013/nov/06/rjukan-sun-norway-town-mirrors

(Our tealights shining in the darkness after the service)