December 26, 2011

Texts: Psalm 148, Jeremiah 26:1-9, 12-15, Acts 6:8-15; 7:51-60

The Day After... it's easy to forget that Christmas lasts for 12 days. These days bring us to the light of Epiphany on January 6. The Christmas tree has begun to dry out despite our efforts to water it, the wrapping paper is in the trash, and most of the toys purchased for children have been forgotten. The joy and the cheer descends into the darkness of this time of year, the depression that so often ensues when the firelight of family and friends returns to the places from which they came. For many, the lonliest days of the year are the days immediately following Christmas. The Christ Child has come, but the inexpressible joy of the Incarnation, the palpable joy of God-with-us, seems to feel like us-without-God.

The Revised Common Lectionary doesn’t help us much. Now, while I am thankful to have something outside myself selecting texts, facilitating a discussion that is more than an aspiring theologian selecting her own texts, copyediting the Bible to make it say whatever she wants it to (yes, we ALL read the Bible with our assumptions, our hopes, our experiences, and tend to interact with it as we interact with any other form of media… though most of us will deny this outrightly), I cannot help but wonder, “Really?!? Just yesterday, we read about how the Word became flesh and dwelled among us and the darkness’ inability to quench the light, and now we read of the death threat to Jeremiah for prophesying the truth and the stoning of Stephen because he told the truth? Granted, it is the day in which the church commemorates the martyr Stephen.

It is here that I am stopped in my tracks. It is precisely because of God’s Incarnation that all of creation praises God, as indicated by the Psalmist. It is precisely because of God’s incarnation that people like Stephen were, are, and will be compelled to “witness” (the word martyria in Greek means “witness,” though the definition is a bit bigger than a simple 1:1 word-for-word translation) this glory of God, regardless of the risks it posed. Today, we remember our brothers and sisters in Nigeria who, witnessing their faith on Christmas, were killed as they left church. These martyrs remind us of the martyrs who died in Egypt as they left church on December 31, 2011. May their lives continue to remind us that, though darkness exists, it cannot quench the light.

I wonder if the reality of the Incarnation is more real, more tangible, during the times we are “witnesses” to our faith in the midst of darkness. The light coming into the world does not mean the darkness does not still exist. It does not mean that Christians’ lives are simple, peaceful, and sugar-coated as the Christmas candy that now gives us a stomach ache. The light has come into the darkness, and it beckons us to live toward the light, making each step of our journey one that is defined more by our light than by our darkness. Even the smallest candle, the smallest witness, the smallest voice crying out, parts the curtains of darkness. The darkness remains, but it does not have the final word. In this way, the Incarnation of Christ points us forward and back: to the first word of God, “Let there be light,” to the Word made flesh, to the final Word - the final promise - that in Christ, the darkness will be vanquished and death will be no more. Death, where is thy victory; death, where is thy sting? Darkness, where is thy victory; darkness, where is thy sting? The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness will not overcome it.