During this Advent season, we have been talking about time.
We have talked about discerning God’s time of coming, the wilderness times of
our lives and the assurance of God’s presence, times of transition in new
community in Christ’s healing presence, and time to love and to know God’s
justice in the world. Today our time of waiting is over. It is now time to
begin the conversation of how God has come to dwell among us and what that
means for us in this time and place.
Many scholars think that the opening words in John shift our
sense of time. No longer do we think of the day beginning in darkness, at
sunset, as our first covenant Jewish ancestors did. Rather as Christians, we
think of creation and our days as beginning with light. The gift of light is so
great that we now order our lives with the event of sunrise.
Yes, all the Gospels push us in this direction. The Easter
tomb is discovered by the women in that very early time of day when the dawn is
just occurring thereby shifting Christian Sabbath from sunset Friday night through
Saturday to sunrise Sunday morning and the rest of that day. Yet, with this
focus on light, we lost something of God’s activity in our lives. In the
Genesis account of creation, God’s work is done in the darkness of night, and then
it is revealed in the light of day. The emphasis of time starting with light
alters our thoughts about God’s activity in our lives and our relationship to
creation.
This new way of thinking—that the day begins with the light
and ends with the darkness—allows humanity to think that the gift of dominion
means that we are the primary workers in the world. The world should bend to our will. This new way of thinking pushes
the consideration of God’s activity in the world from being the initiating
creator to being the janitorial service. God, like our parents when we are little,
will come behind us and pick up the mess we make.
This thought of light being the most essential thing has
dominated our thoughts on the Gospel of John so much that it has even influenced
our translation of the text. Today in the NRSV we read, “The light shines in
the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” (1:5) As life and light
have already been connected in the verses before, so now, the light shines into
the darkness revealing the subversive machinations of an already corrupt world that
has the potential of overpowering the light.
Though this understanding of creation can appeal to us today,
it really appealed to Christians of the late first century. When the Church was
under persecution, when Christians were being imprisoned for their faith, when
Christians were being used as entertainment in the coliseum as cat food for
leopards and lions, the world certainly appeared to be a particularly depraved and
evil place. If good was going to come out of it, goodness would need to be
injected into it. God’s goodness would need to come from outside creation to
effect change. Right?
This way of thinking, that the world and all of creation was
totally corrupt, was so popular and widespread among early Christianity that
early Christian leaders gathered together to say that this is not how God
works. God does not work from outside the world as a master puppeteer manipulating
the strings of creation. Since the beginning, God always has and always will
work within God’s established relationship with creation. God works through
vulnerability not strength. God works in the midst of the poor, the disabled, and
the disenfranchised, not the wealthy and the powerful. God does not show up
like some Superman character who is “faster than a speeding bullet, more
powerful than a locomotive, who can leap tall buildings in a single bound.” We
do not raise our eyes to the heavens saying, “Look! It’s a bird, it’s a plane!
No, it’s SuperChrist!” No, God does not work like Superman or any other super
hero.
A careful reading in Greek of John 1:5 shows that our desire
to have God work from the outside in has influenced how we translate this verse.
The Greek does not say “The light shines in the darkness”. It literally says,
“And the light, in the darkness, shines, and the darkness has not overcome it.”
As long as the light shines, darkness, the absence of light, has no power. And it
is in this place of darkness, of powerlessness, that God continues to create.
Through birth to Mary, God, in Christ, enters our lives.
From a place of the absence of light, the darkness, God’s life-light shines out
as a beacon to the world. From the darkness of the womb, a child is born. In
the darkness of the world, a son is given who is the light and hope of all
people. From the darkness of the tomb, new life begins, a wonderful counsellor,
mighty Lord, prince of peace. Thus, we come to understand that our being and
the being of all creation is life that proceeds from darkness with the Word of
God; that the Word of God is revealed to us in the person of Jesus Christ; and
that his life is the light of the world.
As light is the first thing created from the universal
darkness of Genesis, so in John’s Gospel, light is created amid the darkness of
the world. This light is not to expose the evil so much as it is to reveal the
goodness of God’s work—the life, ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus
Christ. With John, we come to be a witness to that light and hope.
We, ourselves, are not the light, but we can bear witness to
the light that is coming to the world, not from outside the world, but from
within; not as the ultimate goodness conquering our evil, but as the illumined
work of God’s handiwork. We can bear witness not just of a place in the future
kingdom of God but of a place to live, in light and hope, here and now. This
here and now place is not of our own will and making. It is not the will and
making of governments. It is the foundational will of God that we should live
in a just and peaceful world.
“And the Word became flesh and lived among us.” (v. 14) This
simple English translation of “lived” does not quite capture the more complex
Greek idea of “tented”, nor does it help us remember that God’s presence among
God’s people was first recognized in the tent of the tabernacle in the
wilderness. It does not help us imagine the wilderness times of our lives when
we travel with God and how God travels with us. It does not really help us
understand that God’s love for us and creation is so great that God comes into
the midst of our communities to share in all of the problems of the world. Indeed
“the Word became flesh and tented among us.” Christ does not come only to the
privileged cities and wealthy neighborhoods. He comes to live among us with alcoholics,
drug abusers, arthritics, the injured and the blind; knowing our joys and our
sorrows, continuing to show us the light of hope to come.
We have seen his glory, and that glory continues to challenge
and perplex us, to guide and lead us, teach and model God’s love for us and the
world, full of grace and truth. With this grace and truth, we gain the
persistence we need to continue telling our story of life through dying and
rising in Baptism and receiving our sacred food of forgiveness and
reconciliation with God. We continue to proclaim God’s word of grace-filled
love and care for the world: God’s message of hope for the world.
How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of the
messengers who announce peace, who bring good news, who announce salvation, who
say to all the people: “God reigns; listen, lift up your voices and sing with joy
for the world; the Lord is come; let earth receive her king!”
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