January 06, 5:00pm (Kevin Westling)
One small community, sharing food and money and resources with other small communities elsewhere, can empower change that ripples through nations. We know it is true: we’ve seen it and felt it and been touched by it somewhere, sometime, somehow. The smallest ray of loving-kindness has righted the wreck of despair and unexpectedly turned our lives around. It’s happened that way – not in Hollywood and Disney -- but to people I am seeing in front of me throughout this congregation here tonight. It doesn’t take much light to enlighten the darkness.
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December 24, 2009
The Rev. R. Cameron Miller
Good evening and Merry Christmas.
I was the Youngest Child in my family,
which I always hate to tell people
because I know the immediate derision that evokes
among those of you who are the Oldest Child.
And of course,
those of you who are a Middle Child…
So I ask you to put those prejudices away
for just a moment,
and hear this little story
from within that special solidarity
that can only be experienced
when all the children
form a bond of conspiracy against their parents.
You see, my three sisters and I,
we had a game we loved to play;
and sometimes we invited special friends into it also.
On the second floor of our house
there were eight doors –
to bedrooms, bathrooms and two sets of stairs –
that formed a fairly small, rectangular hallway.
When we closed all eight doors,
and turned off the lights,
it got really dark.
At first we had to stuff towels under the doors
but my mom decided to put carpeting up there,
and suddenly it got really, really dark.
And what we did up there in the dark was…
pillow fight!
It was great,
except there was this little light fixture
in the middle of the ceiling.
Around the light bulb
there were little glass hangy-down things,
and don’t you know it,
when you hit them too hard with a pillow,
they would break off.
As it turned out,
we had the same light fixtures all over the house,
so when we broke one
from pillow fighting in the hall,
we would sneak one from another light fixture
and space them out evenly, hoping mom didn’t notice.
If she did,
she never said anything.
But I like to think she never noticed.
But in addition to those great pillow fights,
we also played a kind of blind-man’s bluff.
Someone would be “It”,
and you Oldest Children know that “It”
was a role made for the chump “Youngest Child.”
Anyway,
“It” was blind-folded,
twirled around until nauseatingly dizzy,
and then set loose to tag everyone else.
Now it was so dark up there when all the doors were shut, that you wouldn’t think “It” needed a blindfold.
But someone who was not “It”
would be designated to push just a finger-width
of carpet down underneath one of the doors,
which let in a miniscule ray of light
that was nonetheless enough light
for everyone else to see.
When a room is dark and void of light,
it only takes a tiny child’s finger of light
to chase away the darkness.
When a mind is dark and void of hope,
it only takes the smallest sliver of inspiration
to create room for possibility.
When our planet
seems cocked and aimed directly at disaster,
something so meager as a single human voice,
especially if it is fused with other voices,
can make all the difference in the world…literally.
You see what I’m getting at, don’t you?
This story that we tell, year after year,
it holds a deep and abiding truth
whether or not
we hear it as history or metaphor;
whether or not
we understand it literally or poetically.
Truth and fact are two different things altogether,
at least in the realm of theology and poetry they are.
Science evaluates the human experience
through the lens of facts –
discrete, discernable components,
able to be examined
and replicated
in the laboratory,
or with a computer model,
or mathematical equation
or in some other observable fashion.
It is a lens we have all been fitted with,
and that we are pretty comfortable looking through
even if we don’t like science classes very much.
But it is only a lens,
and only one of many.
If we look at the Christmas Story
through a scientific lens,
it will lead us to ask questions that the story
cannot answer;
and it will lead us to seek facts
that the story does not contain.
The Christmas Story is not discernable
through a scientific lens
because it is not composed of facts.
Rather…the Christmas Story holds truth
when seen through another lens altogether.
Truth, not fact…
which we have been taught to think of
as the same thing.
But if we put on another lens –
call it imaginative
or poetic
or intuitive;
call it theological
or spiritual
or narrative –
we can see and hear things in that story
that we know in the bones of our experiences…
are true!
Maybe not factual but true.
And the very first truth that comes to us is:
it doesn’t take much light to enlighten the darkness.
The smallest hope,
the tiniest kindness,
the most infinitesimal love,
roars silently across the darkness.
One small voice,
two committed hands,
and a single act of will
can overturn the power of Caesars.
One small community,
sharing food and money and resources
with other small communities elsewhere,
can empower change that ripples through nations.
We know it is true:
we’ve seen it
and felt it
and been touched by it
somewhere,
sometime,
somehow.
The smallest ray of loving-kindness
has righted the wreck of despair
and unexpectedly turned our lives around.
It’s happened that way –
not in Hollywood and Disney --
but to people I am seeing in front of me
throughout this congregation here tonight.
It doesn’t take much light to enlighten the darkness.
It does not take much light to enlighten the darkness.
But it takes some…
and you and I are it.
Christians have a word for what I am talking about:
“Incarnation.”
It derives from the Latin and means, literally,
“to make flesh.”
To put flesh on otherwise dead bones.
To put flesh on otherwise empty hope.
To put flesh on otherwise meaningless love.
To put flesh on otherwise good intentions.
To put flesh on otherwise lifeless ideas.
When you and I put flesh on God’s love,
we are God incarnate.
When you and I put flesh on God’s best dream for us,
we are God incarnate.
When you and I bring even a sliver of light to the darkness, we are God incarnate.
When we put flesh on what we have been
told is God’s desire for us,
we are the incarnation of God’s presence in the world.
Now there are no facts that will prove any of that,
but the story we heard tonight describes it.
There are no facts that can replicate incarnation in the laboratory,
but the story we heard tonight describes
the awe
and mystery
and dumbfounded humility
that over-comes us
when we so much as brush up against
the presence of God in our midst.
If we have the right lens on
when we do something that puts flesh on God’s love,
we get to have one of those moments that
makes us stutter inside and out.
So…
like the angel said,
don’t be afraid to try on a different lens;
and don’t be afraid to look for truth in sources
that are not rooted in fact.
And when the very real dangers
and exhausting struggles loom large,
and the overwhelming odds against justice and peace
feel debilitating, remember:
It doesn’t take much light to enlighten the darkness.
