Christmas Day – Mass During The Day
Readings: Isaiah 52:7-10; Psalm 97 (98):1-6; Hebrews 1:1-6; John 1:1-18
Picture: By Jyoti Singh on Unsplash
My dear friends, what’s the difference between floodlights and tea lights? We know that floodlights are typically used to illuminate large venues, like soccer stadiums and concert halls. Where their great power enables them to illuminate everything they shine upon. Leaving nothing in the dark. Which makes floodlights all but impossible to ignore… In contrast, a tiny tea light is far more fragile and weak. When placed in a huge hall, it leaves many areas still shrouded in shadow. Which makes it so much easier to miss, especially if we don’t pay enough attention. Actually, to spot the tiny glow of a humble tea light, flickering in an obscure corner of a large space, we may need to be willing to search patiently among the shadows, and to peer bravely into the dark.
It’s helpful for us to keep this in mind, on this joyous Christmas Day, when our scriptures speak of the arrival of the true light that enlightens everyone, and give us the distinct impression of a mighty show of great power. In the first reading, for example, we’re told that the Lord bares his holy arm, achieves a victory so glorious that all the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our God. And the second reading refers to Christ as the radiant light of God’s glory, who not only sustains the universe by his powerful command, but has also destroyed the defilement of sin, and taken his place in heaven at the right hand of divine Majesty.
Listening to descriptions like these, isn’t it natural for us to imagine powerful floodlights being suddenly switched on, illuminating everything all at once, and leaving nothing in the dark? An image that may understandably be comforting for some. And yet, might there not also be those among us who can’t help wondering how realistic this image is? How closely it matches what we know of life in our chaotic world? Where a woman sleeping quietly on a NYC subway train is suddenly burnt to death, after being set alight by an apparent stranger. And where, in his most recent Christmas address to no less than the Roman Curia, the Pope feels the need to remind everyone of something as basic as not spreading rumours and gossip. Even in a relatively peaceful country like our own, a police presence needs to stand ready in the shadows, to ensure our safety as we gather to worship. And each of us will likely be able to add, to this far-from-exhaustive list, our own personal brushes with evil and tragedy.
Thankfully, when we take the trouble to peer below the surface, our readings reveal another image to complement the first. For while the gospel speaks about the coming of the true light, it also takes care to remind us that this is a light that shines in the dark. And although the darkness could not overpower it, the light still has to contend with the pain of ignorance and rejection: He was in the world that had its being through him, and the world did not know him. He came to his own domain and his own people did not accept him. A reminder to us that the glory of the Lord’s Resurrection comes only through his utter humiliation on the Cross. Prompting us to ponder more deeply what we are celebrating today. What it really means that the Word was made flesh. That the only Son of the Father should mercifully enter the darkness of our human condition, not as a mighty warrior, but as a helpless infant, lying among domestic animals. Lovingly showing us a form of power that works in and through weakness. And a form of illumination that looks less like mighty floodlights, and more like a tiny tea light.
All of which offers us helpful guidance for how we might spend the rest of this brief Christmas season. For if the light of the Incarnation is indeed as obscure as a tiny tea light, then perhaps we need to beg God for the patience and courage to keep gazing steadily and unflinchingly into the dark corners and shadowy recesses of our lives and of our world. As well as for the wisdom and perception to recognise the light that shines in the dark. And for the openness and generosity to allow that same light to ignite our own hearts, so that we too may become humble light-bearers. And, wherever possible, to do all this not just individually, but also together, as families, as communities, and as church.
In a scene from the movie, The Hobbit, An Unexpected Journey, Gandalf the wizard is asked why he chooses a little hobbit as a companion on a dangerous quest. This is what he says in reply: Saruman (a fellow wizard) believes that it’s only great power that can hold evil in check. But that is not what I’ve found. I’ve found that it’s the small things, everyday deeds of ordinary folk, that keeps the darkness at bay. Simple acts of kindness and love. Why Bilbo Baggins? Perhaps it’s because I’m afraid, and he gives me courage…
Sisters and brothers, how might we help one another to better welcome the humble tea light of Christ this Christmas?
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