Experiencing the Light of Christ John 1:6-8, 19-28 December 15, 2002, Year B, Third Sunday of Advent The Rev. William V. Livingston, Rector Church of the Resurrection, Starkville, Mississippi How would you describe something completely indescribable, something of such magnitude, such awesomeness, something simultaneously utterly simple and yet unimaginably complex, something for which our language has no words that could adequately offer an image or basic description which most could understand? This question summarizes the dilemma that faced ancient Israel and the Gospel authors and has faced the Church since its inception. God is as simple and as close to us as the breath we inhale and exhale. But, because we humans want to see, hold, and name things, we have tried since the beginning of our ability to communicate to name something as simple and as complex as the breath that gives us life. Therefore, we each have images of God as we understand and have experienced God - some quite accurate, though inadequate, and some both inadequate and inaccurate. We Episcopalians and other sacramental traditions experience this indescribable God in day-to-day, earthy elements: in the water of Holy Baptism, in the bread and wine of the Eucharist. We do not understand these things to be God, but they come to be, through the mystery of the sacraments, signs pointing to things beyond our language's capability to name. Today our Advent lectionary Gospel reading comes from John. John differs from the other Gospels in several ways. For many Christians, it is either the most or least favored of the four Gospels, and I am among those for whom it is my favorite. John is the incarnational Gospel, meaning, the author clearly understood Jesus to be God incarnate and attempted to offer a language of what this means. The author did so by offering signs - things that point to something else. Characters serve as signs of those accepting or rejecting Jesus. John opens describing Jesus as the Word. The author describes Jesus' miracles as signs. More than in the other Gospels, Jesus uses various metaphors serving as signs pointing to his identity: the good shepherd, the gate, the door, the way, the truth, the light. Today we hear John the Baptist testify to this light. For me personally, this sign of Jesus as light, this metaphor, best helps me to comprehend the simultaneous simplicity and complexity of the one we worship. Consider some of the characteristics of and many ways we encounter light. Allow me to share some of the images that come to me as I ponder my experiences of being acutely aware of light. During our 10 years in McComb, Diane and I lived in an 1896 Victorian home which I spent most of our time there doing some type of renovation or another. I remember the first time I went under the house to run new plumbing. As I crawled to the back of the house, the crawl space got smaller and darker. I dragged an electrical cord and light, not turning it on until I was ready to connect the pipes. At the furthest point the crawl space was too small for me to roll over. So, as it got shallower I rolled on my back and scooted in. When I got to the spot to connect the plumbing, I turned on the light. The dim shadows suddenly became illuminated. There above me was a mass of spider webs and spiders and around me were household items and carcasses of small animals which, during the past 100 years, had found their way to this their final resting place. Light revealed to me the hazards and ugliness and decay around me. In 1995 our family visited Carlsbad Caverns. As the park ranger guided us through the maze of caves, small lights illuminated the edge of the path. However, periodically as we approached a large cavern or a recessed area of a cave, the ranger turned on spot lights illuminating a particular area. Suddenly, dark, colorless shadows became beautiful illuminated blue, red and purple stalactites and stalagmites, and iridescent crystals shone from the crevasses. Two summers ago, Diane and I spent two weeks in the Ozark Mountains. To be precise, to get to our cabin we drove the highway 11 miles south of Eureka Springs, 5 miles down a Forest Service gravel road, 2 miles down a private dirt road, transferred to a 1974 4-wheel drive Ford Bronco, affectionately known as "Bronco Billy," to make the last quarter mile drive which was so steep that we had to push against the steering wheel or dash board so as to not slide off the seat. Once there, we were in an 1890's barn converted into a two-story cabin on the bank of the Kings River. Absent of any artificial light, for the first time in many years, the night sky treated us to views of the Milky way and meteor showers. The lights of the stars, planets and moon surrounded us with their celestial beauty. As we proceed down a dark highway, headlights illumine the way, guiding us in the proper direction, alerting us to potential hazards. Turning on lights as we enter a room, protects us from running into furniture. In such a lit room, we are unable to see out the window into the dark of night, but those outside can see into the room. Lasers, light at its greatest intensity, in the hands of a skilled surgeon, remove diseased tissue with minimal damage to surrounding organs. The light metaphor allows me to see Jesus so clearly but, also, to see some of the multifaceted complexities of the Christ. Just as my light under my house illuminated spiders, webs and dried animal carcasses, so Jesus revealed to the rich young man how his wealth disrupted his relationship with God, so the light of Christ illumines the dark side of our desires, the tangled mess we sometimes make of our lives, the remains of harm we have done to others. Just as the ranger's light illumined the beauty of Carlsbad Caverns, so Jesus saw Matthew not as a tax collector but as a disciple, so the light of Christ illumines the potential beauty within you and me which God has gifted us. Just as Diane and I were surrounded by the celestial night beauty of a mountain sky, so are you and I surrounded continually by Christ's presence and love, but also so must we dim our manmade lights, our false gods, to experience what surrounds us all the time. Just as headlights guide us along the road in the dark of night, so Christ guides us through the darkest periods of life's journeys. Just as the light of a room keeps us from bumping into things, protecting us, and blocking out the darkness of the outside world, so the light of Christ illumines our hearts to opportunities to give and receive love, blocking out the evil that tempts us in the dark places of our lives. Just as a laser in the hands of a surgeon removes only the diseased tissue, so Jesus said to the woman caught in adultery, "Neither do I condemn you, go and sin no more." so the light of Christ can free us from addiction and other forms of self-destruction. Who is this Jesus we claim? Was he God present with us? Was he man? Was he the infant who brought peace both into hearts and into the world? Was he the teacher instructing how to live one's life? Was he the angry Jesus flipping over tables in the Temple? Was he the suffering servant willingly dying on the cross to show the limitlessness of God's love. Is he the one who soothes the suffering or the one who discomforts the complacent. Yes. He was and is each of these and so much more than these that we will never have the words to fully describe the Christ. However, he is as near to us and as simple as the air we breath or as a light that guides our path. Today, as you come to this altar, turn off your self-made lights. Let the light of Christ illumine your complacency; let it highlight your God-given gifts; let it surround you in its glow; let it guide you through life's maze; let it exorcize your self-destructiveness; let it brighten your heart so that those living in the dark can see the light permeating from you; let the light of Christ be to you what it needs to be today. Absorb, today, the light of Christ. Then, as phosphorous emits the light it has absorbed, illumine this absorbed light of Christ into a world that desperately needs the light of Christ to shine into its darkness.