On Saturday evening I took part in Grace's service Nine, based on the traditional service of nine lessons and carols, only without the carols. A different person or group took each reading, and contributed something to accompany it and a piece of music. I took the third reading, Isaiah 9:2, 6, 7), and followed it with a reflection about our attempts to tame the Christmas story, and the song wonder by Lamb. Here's the reflection;
We’re like the kid who puts her hand up to answer a question in the old Sunday School gag. She says, “I know the answer must be Jesus, but it does sound like a squirrel.”
We hear the words light and child and instantly imagine baby Jesus laying in a manger. The reading comes round every Christmas tucked between carols, and we skip over three verses in the middle of the prophecy that don’t sound so Jesusy. We can hardly imagine the wonder and longing felt by the people that first heard Isaiah’s prophecy. We know what this light is like; we’ve got it wrapped up; tighter than any present.
The people walking in darkness…
What do us city dwellers know about darkness? To us, darkness is yellow. It’s the colour of sodium street lights. It drains the world of colour but not of detail.
What would it be like to see… nothing?
To feel isolated and alone?
To live under the control of empires and powers too strong to oppose?
To long for change, but fear to hope that change is possible?
To lose confidence that God has any power to alter the world?
But darkness is also a place of concealment.
A place where we can mask our true selves.
A place to hide the things we don’t like about us.
Perhaps we know darkness after all.
The people walking in darkness have seen a great light…
Ah yes, the light. We know about that! The cattle are lowing, the baby awakes. But little lord Jesus no crying he makes. But this baby is also the light of the world. The harsh light of day, penetrator of dark corners, revealer of blind spots who tramples on rose-tinted glasses and heals jaundiced eyes.
This is the light that will not be tamed, controlled or confined. We coo and cluck over the baby in the manger, and attempt to cut God down to size, and make him in our image. For what could be dangerous about a tiny child? Yet the coming light will overturn empires, rule with justice and righteousness, see into the heart of us and save the world. God was born as a boy and made his dwelling among us. That doesn’t mean that because we know babies, we know all there is to know about God.
So watch and prepare for the coming of the light. Greet the coming with joy, and also fear.
Watch and wait. Expect to be surprised. But not comfortable.
Watch and wait.
Carols are the best bit of a Christmas service. Being left with only the lessons seems tough to me.
Happy new year Dean!Keep blogging!
Posted by: Helen | Tuesday, 02 January 2007 at 05:31 PM