By Rev. Terry Davis
Delivered at Northwest Unitarian Universalist Congregation on
December 21, 2014
In case you haven’t noticed, Christmas is right around the corner. For those of you who are still gift shopping – like me – there are only four shopping days left.
The arrival of Christmas has dominated our neighborhoods, our stores, our radio and television channels, and likely our minds ever since Thanksgiving. In our culture, it’s the dominate December holiday. Christmas overshadows all others celebrations in our country perhaps because it combines a number of potent elements.
For starters, we might agree that Christmas has a first-rate narrative. The story of the baby Jesus, who was born in a humble stable, is a tale of drama and mystery, and hope and love that has inspired billions of Christians around the world for centuries.
Next, we might agree that Christmas has the good fortune of being identified with a very likeable front man – a jolly, old elf with a memorable outfit who gives out presents to children. Known by many names, including Santa Claus, St. Nick,
Kris Kringle, Father Christmas, and Sinterklaas, he’s the kind of good will ambassador that money can’t buy and organizations the world over would love to have in their corner.
Next, it has to be acknowledged that Christmas has the backing of free enterprise’s most influential industries. Retailers in the U.S., for instance, can barely wait to get Halloween over with so that Christmas advertising can begin. Perhaps you’ve encountered the new season greeting of “Happy Hallowthankmas!” It’s a roll-off-your tongue salutation . . . a way to roll the holidays of October, November and December into one easy invitation to start your Christmas shopping!
The entertainment industry also embraces this time of year, knowing that Christmas is when we especially want to laugh, sing and connect with tender feelings. We have movies and music celebrating the religious, pagan and secular traditions of this holiday.
We’re amused by Bad Santa, Fred Claus, Buddy the Elf, and the Grinch. We’re taught powerful lessons of love, reflection, and redemption by George Bailey and Clarence Oddbody, Ebenezer Scrooge, and the Macy’s department store Santa who swears he’s Kris Kringle. We sing along to Bing Crosby, Amy Grant, Idina Menzel, and Pentatonix.
Yes, Christmas seems to have it all – an ancient story, a powerful personal message, a cheerful icon with widespread appeal, and the backing of big business.
And, yet, perhaps Christmas, as well as Hanukkah and other December religious, spiritual and cultural traditions, are best appreciated not by their distinctive symbols and characteristics, but, rather, by what they offer the heart and spirit in the face of the ongoing challenges we experience as human beings.
The bulbs strung on the Christmas tree, the candles of the menorah, and the burning Yule log that celebrates the winter solstice, seem in many ways to represent the glimmering light we seek and long for in an unpredictable world.
Holiday candles and lights illuminate our dark rooms. They light up our front lawns, our living rooms and fireplaces, as well as the dark corners of our souls.
December’s season of light is our season of hope. The lights of joy and love we celebrate this month shine on a world that sometimes seems to be full of fear. They offer flickering flames of promise in times of discouragement, and they keep the promise of freedom shining before us as we struggle with ending violence and oppression.
There is much beauty and possibility in the light. And, it seems, that perhaps in order to fully appreciate what December’s light offers us we must also know something about the darkness.
As persons who are engaged in life and care about others, I think it’s safe to say that we all know something about life’s shadows. Which is why the December holidays can also be a little hard to take at times . . . as they can cast a painful light on our own inner darkness and those places where we may feel loneliness and loss.
And, so, as we participate in those holidays and holiday traditions that are most meaningful to us, I would like for us to consider what it means to hold both the light and the darkness we are likely to encounter.
I believe that the darkness, as well as the light, has something to teach us – and that it’s often the darkness that offers the incredibly difficult, but incredibly important opportunity to embark on the inner work we need to do for growth. Ultimately, I believe that it’s the darkness that shows us how and where to amp up our own inner light.
Episcopal priest and author Barbara Brown Taylor argues that the darkness is an unparalleled teacher and needs to be paid attention to. She writes:
“I have learned things in the dark that I could have never learned in the light, things that have saved my life over and over again, so that there is only one logical conclusion: I need the darkness as much as I need the light.”
Our Story Wisdom today offers a creative look at what it means to hold both the light and the darkness in life. This myth from the Aboriginal Canadians known as the Inuit, teaches us that the gladness we feel when experiencing life’s light is often born out of our experiences of the darkness.
“Before you brought the daylight, we lived our whole life in darkness,” the Inuit people told the Crow. The Inuit thanked the Crow over and over again for the six months of light they now had. They recognized that the alternating six months of darkness made their newfound sunlight that much more precious.
This story makes me think of the beauty and serenity of being able to live in the moment and appreciating the here and now, knowing that the good days will pass and that the bad days will pass too. In our personal lives, it seems that this approach of accepting life on life’s terms – the pain and the joy, the darkness and the light – is the pathway to peace.
Acceptance of life’s darkness doesn’t mean that I should do nothing about the oppression and injustice in the world. Living in the here and now with acceptance is not about being apathetic. What it does mean is that I can have faith that, as I do my part for change – however big or small – the light of hope and healing will sooner or later shine and illuminate the darkness.
Perhaps an example of experiencing light’s return after darkness that is common to many of us is the grief journey many of us have travelled following the death of a loved one. The loss of someone we love casts a shadow in one’s heart that likely never entirely goes away.
And, yet, perhaps grief and sorrow, like the Inuit’s six months of no sunlight, is the darkness that gives deeper meaning to the light when it gradually returns again.
Sorrow, says the poet Mary Oliver, is like being handed a whole box of darkness.
It’s a gift, she says, that took her years to understand. And, it may take us years too. Out of the darkness of sorrow there comes, perhaps, a finer appreciation for life. There can be a new resolve to do things differently . . . to avoid letting our own hopes and dreams slip away.
Out of the darkness of sorrow can come great strength and understanding. Those memories of the one we loved, that were once so difficult to bear, can eventually be the light in our hearts and a source of great comfort and strength. Reflecting upon them can help us learn how we’ve been changed by sharing our life and ourselves with another.
Just as the darkness provides us with important moments of reflection and growth,
Neal’s story this morning also reminds us that the light provides us with important moments of faith. His personal experience of kindling the Hanukkah menorah light
with his far-flung family during a time when he also felt great sadness provides us with a powerful example of how transformative it can be when we believe in the light’s ability to connect us and heal us.
Believing in the light, it seems, is especially important when horrific actions may leave us wondering whether the light of love can truly overcome the darkness of hate. I can imagine that the horrible killing that occurred at a Pakistani school this week – and the tragedies that continue to occur around the world – might virtually extinguish any light of hope we may have.
And, yet, as we mourn the loss of so many young lives this week, our hopes may also be ignited by the actions and voices of the Pakistani people who are staging protests against the Taliban and speaking out against terrorism. We can be brightened by the light of millions of Muslims, Christians, Jews, Hindus, and people of many different faiths who are united against this barbaric act. Neal’s decision to keep Hanukkah and his lovely family tradition of lighting the menorah via video chat seemed to me to be a bold decision to keep the light of hope burning.
What else is there to give our children if we can’t give them hope? What else is there to give one another?
The holiday of Hanukkah, with its miraculous oil and eight candles, celebrates this victory over darkness. When the Jewish people revolted against the Syrian-Greek empire over 2,200 years ago, they were rising up against the darkness of an oppressive ruler and government.
The ancient story of how the Jews reclaimed the holy Temple and rededicated the menorah inside has a message of perseverance that is urgently need today. We need it in Pakistan, and in Nigeria, We need it in the Ukraine. We need it in Ferguson in New York, and right here in Atlanta.
We need Hanukkah’s message of perseverance right here at home, for those who are advocating for our city’s poorest and most vulnerable persons – some 650,000 men, women and children who still don’t have access to decent healthcare because our governor refuses to accept federally-funded Medicaid . . .
We need the light of perseverance right here in Atlanta, where nearly cuts of $8 billion dollars in education funding over the last ten years have hobbled our public school system and have left our children without hope of obtaining a decent education . . .
We need the light of hope to keep burning right here, in this state, where our minimum wage is still a pitiful $5.15 an hour . . . where all of Georgia’s citizens do not enjoy equal rights . . . where immigrants who work on Georgia’s farms and in our poultry industry are often denied fair wages, safe working conditions, and access to healthcare . . . where we lack the legislation necessary to truly protect all of us from air, land and water pollution.
The light of perseverance, the lights of love, compassion and justice – these are the lights of Hanukkah, Christmas and this holiday season that we need now and throughout the year.
Anne Frank wrote, “Look at how a single candle can defy and define the darkness.” As people of faith, and as people who care about making the world a better place, we must each be that single candle. We must brave the darkness when it comes. We must see it as a compelling invitation to shine our light over and over again. We cannot let the sometimes brutality of this oftentimes beautiful world diminish it.
I believe we must remain committed, like the Jews who thousands of years ago reclaimed the Holy Jewish Temple and the right to practice their faith. We must remain hopeful like the children who, on Christmas Eve, anticipate Santa and Christmas morning with wonder and excitement.
We must remain vigilant like the three Magi from the east, who evaded King Herod and followed the light of a star in search of the savior of the world. And, we must remain forever grateful like those who celebrate the winter solstice with appreciation for the darkness and thanks for the eventual return of the sun.
As we reflect on the darkness and light that we find in this season, and in our lives, may we see their intertwined significance. May we not linger in discouragement or despair when darkness comes, but know that the pain that we feel is the pain that lets us know that we are people who long for the light of peace and well-being.
May the darkness remind us that every moment is precious. May it motivate us to seek the light of our highest ideals and put justice-making at the center of our faith.
Let us learn from the darkness. Let us believe in the light, celebrate it and carry it with us.
May it be so. Â Amen.