From Darkness to Light

From Darkness to Light
(the journey of unlearning everything we've been taught)

Presented at County Line Brethren Church on December 27, 2009.
Year C, Christmas Eve
Scripture passages: Isaiah 9:2-7; Luke 2:1-20

Robert Fulgum wrote a wonderful book entitled, “Everything I Really Need To Know, I Learned In Kindergarten.” It is such a refreshing reminder of how simple things were back then. In the beginning of the book, this is what he says.

“ALL I REALLY NEED TO KNOW about how to live and what to do and how to be I learned in kindergarten. Wisdom was not at the top of the graduate-school mountain, but there in the sandpile at Sunday School. These are the things I learned:

Share everything.
Play fair.
Don't hit people.
Put things back where you found them.
Clean up your own mess.
Don't take things that aren't yours.
Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody.
Wash your hands before you eat.
Flush.
Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
Live a balanced life – learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.
Take a nap every afternoon.
When you go out into the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands, and stick together.
Be aware of wonder.”

What's strange about this is that 12 years later or 20 years later or even 50 years later, we've somehow forgotten these simple lessons. They have been replaced by:
-buy a house
-have a kid (or two or three)
-save for college and retirement
-pay the bills (repeat weekly)

In the years following kindergarten, many of us learn a different way to navigate through life. We learn that if we don't take, we don't get. We learn that if we don't look out for number 1, no one else will. We learn that sharing opens us up to being taken advantage of. We learn that the most important things in life are getting ahead. We learn how to make the grade, make a buck, and make a name for ourselves. We learn how other people can help us accomplish those aspirations, and so people soon become tools toward achieving our goals. We learn that there are some people who do not share. We get burned. We get burned again. We learn how not to get burned. Instead of trying not to hurt others, we learn to defend ourselves at all times from being hurt by other people. We learn how to build walls – to keep us from being burned. [build half of the Lincoln Log house] We learn to protect ourselves. Instead of holding hands and sticking together, we learn that it is all up to me, and me alone.

We protect ourselves by being silent. We don't reveal what we think and feel and when we hurt. We try not to rock the boat.

I certainly do not share about my own personal struggles or sin. The muzzle I keep on my mouth not only protects me from hurting others, but effectively changes me into an angry and resentful person. Like the psalmist reported, when I kept silent about failure and weaknesses, my body turns against itself bringing about a myriad of physical problems.

We hoard things. We stock the freezer and the pantry. We build our savings and retirement accounts – if we are able. We accumulate more “stuff” as I mentioned last week. The “stuff” protects us. The “stuff” protects me from harmful people as well as from a God who cannot be fully trusted.

We seek power and influence at work, in our communities and in our homes because it feels better to think we are in full control of everything. If we sense we are losing control, every resource is brought to bear in order to align each variable to our liking.

Over time, virtually every thought and action morphs into an effort simply to protect myself from others, as well as protecting me against myself. I erect walls to keep the bad out – and to keep me in. [Finish the Lincoln Log house] Fear becomes a close companion and an all-consuming hobby. I know what I do. I know how to do it. If someone were to suggest a different path, fear simply reminds of the danger that lurks outside the walls we've carefully constructed. If, for some reason, I have a moment of peace, it feels so abnormal that I rush back to my comfortable state of living in fear. It is not surprising that one common theme in the New Testament is that we no longer need to live in fear.

Kindergarten becomes a naïve and distant memory, unrelated to the struggles of 'real life.' We have hardened into the adult Peter Pan in the movie “Hook”, played by Robin Williams. Granny Wendy took note of this, saying to the former 'forever-child', “Peter, you've become a pirate.”

While there are many different manifestations, this is one form of darkness. Paul actually talks about this when he warns us in Romans 12 not to be conformed to the paradigm prevalent in the 'dog-eat-dog' world. It is a darkness which snuffs out life and joy and wonder. We recognize that some forms of darkness are, at least in part, of our own making.

On the other hand, some forms of darkness press in upon us from from outside of our sphere of influence. These include:
1) poverty, or
2) unemployment, or
3) trying to stay alive in a war zone, or
4) death resulting from famine,
5) lack of mosquito nets, or
6) AIDS medications, as well as
7) systemic oppression and abuse which may precipitate or exacerbate the darkness.

Perhaps you've heard the mythical story about how Albert Einstein disproved the assertion of an atheist professor that God did not exist because God could not be seen or tested or otherwise verified. Einstein purportedly asked the professor if cold existed. When the professor said that cold did exist, Einstein explained that cold did not actually exist, but is, in fact, the absence of heat. 'Coldness' cannot technically be measured apart from measuring heat. Indeed, you may remember from your science classes that there is a Kelvin temperature scale which actually begins at what is believed to be “absolute zero” and measures degrees of heat. [as an aside, you may feel a bit warmer knowing that the temperature outside this morning was about ¬260 on the Kelvin scale. Doesn't that help you feel warmer?] So, it is, in a sense, true that cold does not exist. Einstein then is alleged to have asked the professor if darkness existed. The professor, falling into the trap, said that darkness did exist. Whereupon Einstein is reported to have said that darkness did not exist, but is actually the absence of light. Darkness cannot be measured or tested. I hasten to emphasize that this exchange between Einstein and the professor is an unproven myth and academic legend. My purpose in bringing it up is to illustrate that darkness, as a concept, whether spiritual or scientific, is in some way, the absence of light.

Do you remember in the Parable of the Sower when Jesus said that some of the seed fell on thorny ground? The seed took root and grew, but was choked out by the cares of the world. These 'cares of the world' rob us, the plant, of nutrients from the soil. These thorns also steal the light as the cares of the world overshadow us, the plant, rendering us with less and less light, and more darkness.

So, when Isaiah says that the people in darkness have seen a great light, it may be more accurate, scientifically, to say “the people in the absence of light have seen an enormous lumination.” In some mysterious way, God infuses the light of Jesus into the darkness of human history. The incarnation offers to dispel and push back the reign of darkness in our lives individually and throughout the world collectively. The light of Jesus offers us a better way.

Here's the deal.
 When we walk in fear, we are walking in the darkness. Jesus says that he takes care of the birds. He will take care of your needs.
 When we choose not to forgive, we are walking in darkness. Jesus says to forgive others continually.
 When we choose not to share, we are living in darkness. Jesus says that if we have an extra coat, we should give it away to someone who needs it.
 When we choose not to help our neighbor we are living in the darkness. Jesus says that even the Samaritans (people we formerly despised) are our neighbors.

Walking in the light, as he is in the light, means returning to some of those things we learned in kindergarten. It means not worrying about tomorrow. It means sharing what we have. It means not hurting others and apologizing when we do.

Henri Nouwen wrote a wonderful essay entitled, “The Selfless Way of Christ (downward mobility as Christian vocation)”. For me, it seems to provide some insight into what it would be like to live in the light of Jesus.

Indeed, the one who was from the beginning with God and who was God revealed himself as a small, impotent child; as a refugee in Egypt; as an obedient adolescent and inconspicuous adult; as a penitent disciple of the Baptizer; as a preacher from Galilee followed by some simple fishermen; as a man who ate with sinners and talked with strangers; as an outcast, a criminal, a threat to his people. He moved from power to powerlessness, from greatness to smallness, from success to failure, from strength to weakness, from glory to ignominy. The whole life of Jesus of Nazareth was a life in which all upward mobility was resisted.

Some people wanted to make him king. They wanted him to show power. They wanted to share in his influence and sit on thrones with him. But he consistently said "no" to all these desires and pointed to the downward way. "The son of man has to suffer... can you drink the cup?" Even after his death, when his followers spoke of him as a defeated freedom fighter and said, "Our own hope had been that he would be the one to set Israel free" (Luke 24:21), he had to remind them again of the downward way, "Was it not ordained that the Christ should suffer and so enter into his glory?" (Luke 24:26).

Jesus leaves little doubt that the way he lived is the way he offers to his followers: "The disciple is not superior to his teacher, nor the slave to his master" (Matthew 10:24). With great persistence he points out the downward way: "Anyone who wants to be great among you must be your slave, just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve" (Matthew 20:26-28). The downward way is the way of the cross: "Anyone who does not take his cross and follow in my footsteps is not worthy of me. Anyone who finds his life will lose it; anyone who loses his life for my sake will find it" (Matthew 10:39).

Somewhere deep in our heart we already know that success, fame, influence, power, and money do not give us the inner joy and peace for which we crave. Somewhere we can even sense a certain envy of those who have shed all their ambitions and live their lives in simple obedience. Yes, somewhere we can even get a taste of that mysterious joy in the smile of those who have nothing to lose.

Then we realize that the downward road is not the road to hell, but the road to heaven. Keeping this in mind can help us accept the fact that in the kingdom of God the poor are the messengers of the good news.
(Sojourners, Preach the Word, Christmas, Year C, from a Sojourners article by Henri Nouwen in June 1981)

Jim Forest writes about the light and the darkness by sharing a story.
The meaning of night is the focus of an old story about a rabbi who enters into discussion with his students. When, he asks them, can one know the night has ended and the day has begun? Is it that moment, suggests one student, when you can tell the difference between a sheep and a dog? No, says the rabbi, that isn't it. Is it, asks another, when you can see the difference between an olive tree and a fig tree? Not that either, says the rabbi. Rather, he says, it is that moment when you can look at a face never seen before and recognize the stranger as a brother or sister. Until that moment, he adds, no matter how bright the day, it is still the night.
(Sojourners, Preach the Word, Christmas, Year C, from a Sojourners article by Jim Forest in Dec 1983)

[Reconstruct the Lincoln Log house, putting in a door and a window]

The true liberating light of “Jesus-mas” encourages us to let go of the darkness of our pathological fears, desires and quest for independence and control. Then, as Robert Fulghum learned in kindergarten, “when you go out into the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands and stick together.” Those poor people – they deliver the good news. And that stranger you just met – she is your sister.

The light of the world is Jesus. In the stable it is a small light. But out in the dark fields where shepherds watch their flocks and in the dark corners of busy cities the light of Jesus shines brightly, calling us to a new abundant and vibrant life in him.