Advent 3 B + A Glimmer of Light + ACL + 12.17.23

 

A Glimmer of Light
Isaiah 61, John 1, Psalm 126

St Paul’s Emmanuel, Santa Paula and All Santos, Oxnard (12/17/23)
The Rev. Alene Campbell-Langdell (preached by MCL in Oxnard)

In his book, It’s Not You, It’s Everything, Baptist pastor turned psychotherapist, Eric Minton, tells the story of an interaction with his young son.  As Eric read the story of Jesus’ walking on water to his 4-year-old, his son stopped him to ask, “Dad, is this story true?”  Eric describes his internal anxiety as his mind rushes through the possible answers informed by years of seminary studies.  He writes, “I started to sweat and began stammering some sort of answer involving the ways that ancient Near Eastern hagiography would sometimes embellish parts of an important person’s life story to make them more memorable for later listeners.”  As you can imagine, this did not satisfy the 4 year old’s question!  Then Eric says, “I stopped talking and asked my son, ‘I don’t know, man, what do you think?’”  And Eric continues, “Without blinking, he looked up at me and said, ‘Dad, I want it to be true.’”  And Eric notes that in that moment he found himself wiping his eyes “in the presence and possibility of a God that [he] actually wanted to believe in…”[1] 

Our third stop on this year’s journey towards the mystery of Christmas echoes with prophetic longing.  We find ourselves on the banks of a river.  A crowd has gathered around a lone figure.  Other gospels add fascinating details about this man’s clothing, camel’s hair, and his food, locusts and wild honey, but in this image the focus is not on what he looks like.  He is being questioned by the religious authorities who want to know who he thinks he is and what gives him the right to say and do the things he’s saying and doing. 

 

John is introduced by the writer of this gospel as one who has been sent to help others believe.  After a series of back and forth denials, John answers the question, “What do you say about yourself?” with this somewhat enigmatic answer, “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness…” (John 1:23).  For the religious leaders who came to question him, this makes no sense.  John doesn’t fit any of the categories they have been taught to expect from a prophetic figure.  He is not the Messiah, or a prophet/leader like Moses.  Instead, he is the voice of those who cry out in the wilderness of our lives, longing to believe.  “Dad, I want it to be true.”

Karoline Lewis, commenting on this passage in John, writes,

“John’s first declaration of the incarnation, that the light of the world is continually shining when darkness should prevail, speaks to a fundamental need for light.  Before there is the Word made flesh, there is the promise that in the midst of all of the darkness of humanity, now light will shine.”

Lewis continues by describing the experience of being in a cave where no light ever enters,

“It is a reminder of that oft-forgotten fact that without light, even the smallest speck of light, our eyes will never adjust to the darkness. We could be down in that cave five minutes, five hours, five years and still never see our hands in front of our faces.  The smallest amount of light would eventually make our eyes adjust and be able to see.”[2]

In the darkness and wilderness of our lives, John’s voice crying out on our behalf is the glimmer of light we need in order to see, to reawaken hope.  What if this impossible story of God bridging impossible odds to come to us as a baby is true?  “Dad, I want it to be true.”  I need it to be true.

 

The Psalmist expresses this longing for the miracles of the past to be seen in the present.  Reflecting that God “restored the fortunes of Zion,” the Psalmist then prays for God to “restore our fortunes.”  There are hints that maybe the past was not as great as the stories.  There is a need for tears, which then water the seeds of new life.  But in this prayer for restoration, past and future meet.  The remembered laughter mingles with tears and produces a harvest of something new.  In the passage from Isaiah, the prophet speaks to those who are mourning.  He says he has been sent to “bind up the brokenhearted,” “to comfort all who mourn,” “to provide for those who mourn, “to give the oil of gladness instead of mourning.”  And at the end of this passage, God is likened to a fertile garden.  Righteousness and praise spring up from seeds sown in the darkness of the soil.  The seed has been buried.  There is no way to know that it is there or what shape it will take when it comes up.  Yet, we trust that the ground holding our past and future together is good and nurturing.  That the seed will grow. 

Phil Rickman captures a bit of the mystery of this time of year, of the longing and hope, in his book, “All of a Winter’s Night.”  One of the characters, Lol Robinson, learns to dance in order to take part in a celebration of a glimmer of light in the darkest night of the year.  As he does so, he also writes a song and the lyrics go like this:

The old year’s hanging on a rusting hinge
Kids in the city on a drinking binge
And no one hears the ancient engines
Grinding underground

And it takes all of a winter’s night
To change the chords and put things right
And it takes all of a winter’s night
To dance the darkness down[3]

 

 

Advent is the time to join the dance.  To catch a glimmer of light in baptism and Eucharistic bread, to trust that there is life springing up from the sorrows of our lives, to hope once again for a glimpse of the baby who bridged the impossible divide between humans and God, to hear in the wilderness a voice calling out to us and for us, “Make straight in the desert a highway for our God” (Isaiah 40:3). 

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[1][1][1] Eric Minton (2022). It’s Not You, It’s Everything: What our pain reveals about the anxious pursuit of the good life. (Broadleaf Books: Minneapolis, MN), 128-129.

[2] Karoline Lewis (2011).  “Commentary on John 1:6-8, 19-28” (Published Dec 11, 2011 by WorkingPreacher.org).  Available online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/third-sunday-of-advent-2/commentary-on-john-16-8-19-28

[3] Phil Rickman (2017). All of a Winter’s Night (Kindle version published in Great Britain by Corvus, Atlantic Books).