“Light in the Darkness” by the Rev. Dr. Don Wahlig, December 24, 2024, Year C / Christmas Eve - Isaiah 9:2-7, / Luke 2:1-14

THEME:   God’s love is the strongest force in the world.

Are you one of those people who absolutely loves Christmas? I sure am. I am sure it goes back to my childhood. I have all sorts of fond memories of Christmases past. The tree, the lights, the presents, the big Christmas dinner with family. And of course, candlelight Christmas Eve services just like this one.  Now, I know not everyone has such fond memories, but I suspect most of us do.  Christmas Carols play a big part in that.  Somehow, the fact that we have been hearing them everywhere we go since Labor Day, has not diminished their effect on us. We hear them and we get warm, fuzzy feelings. Let’s try it. 

Away in a manger, no crib for a bed,

The little Lord Jesus laid down His sweet head;

The stars in the heavens looked down where He lay,

The little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay.  

The cattle are lowing, the Baby awakes,

but little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes.

See? I told ya. Such a peaceful, comforting image, isn’t it?  But the world Jesus was born into was anything but – and certainly not for people like Mary and Joseph. For them, and for people like them, it was a turbulent time of social, economic, and political upheaval.  That is what all those government references are about in Luke’s story of the nativity. In Mary and Joseph’s time, people’s lives were shaped by Roman occupation, heavy taxation, severe social inequality, deep poverty, and persistent, gnawing hunger.  No wonder Israel was perpetually on the brink of revolt.

So, when God sends his angels with a message of good news for the people, their first reaction is fear. Jesus’ uncle Zechariah and the shepherds out in the field are all terrified when God’s messengers first arrive. The irony is that the angels bring good news. Very good news – news that will bring joy to all the people, including and especially people like Mary and Joseph who hardly ever get any good news. Do not fear, the angels say. God has remembered his covenant with his people. He has raised up a Savior, the Messiah. This messiah will sit on David’s throne and will deliver the people from their suffering. His reign will last forever more. The days of Roman rule are numbered. God is in control, not the Emperor.

But who is this God who shows up as a helpless infant in order to deliver the people, when he has an army of angels to do the job? Clearly, this is a whole new kind of power. The great Protestant Reformer Martin Luther called this “left-handed power.” As you might guess, it stands in contrast to the more traditional right-handed power. Right-handed power is the kind of power most of us think of. It is built on wealth, governments, and armies. It is the power to coerce others through brute force and threats of violence. In individuals, it is the power of self-seeking. At its extreme, it pushes us to pursue what we want for ourselves, without concern for what others need.

On the other hand, Martin Luther tells us that left-handed power is quite different. Left-handed power is expressed in self-giving and self-sacrifice. It is not afraid to grant freedom or offer forgiveness. Among individuals, it concerns itself above all with forging relationships and building community. It pushes us to seek the well-being of others every bit as much as our own, sometimes more. In short, it is the power of love. To those who put their trust in right-handed power, the left-handed power of love can look like weakness. In reality, however, it is the strongest power this world has ever known. Martin Luther saw it on the cross.  Mary and Joseph, and the shepherds saw it in the manger.

Aesop, the ancient Greek storyteller, told a fable about left-handed power. You may have heard it.  It is the story of a contest between the north wind and the sun, to see which one was stronger.  The north wind points to a man walking through the countryside wearing a coat.  He says to the sun, “I am so strong that I bet that I can blow that coat right off of him.”  The cold north wind blew and blew. But the stronger it blew, the more tightly the man clutched his coat around him.  Then the sun said, “You have had your chance.  Now it’s my turn.”  The sun shone down on the man, quietly, gently and persistently. Gradually, it made him warm.  Before long, he became a little too warm.  He took off his coat – not because he was forced to do it, but because he wanted to do it.  Because it was what was best for his well-being.

It struck me this week that this ancient fable illustrates perfectly what Christmas means. Our world today is just as troubled as the world Jesus was born into. If the list of difficulties of living in 1^st century Palestine sounds familiar to you, it is not a mistake. We live in a world that is every bit as unsettled and frightening as theirs. We, too, are subject to all manner of forces that try to coerce us and make us afraid.  They tempt us to think that this is the only way to get things done, the only way to get what we want. 

But the Christmas story tells us that the power of God’s love, embodied in a helpless newborn child, is greater than any of the forces that seek to frighten us and force us into compliance with their self-serving ends. The power of God’s love is that it speaks to what we all want most for ourselves: love. To be loved and to share love. In our families, in our church, in our community and – dare we hope? – in our world. God’s love is what Joseph and Mary must surely have felt on that very first Christmas, as they looked on the baby Jesus, asleep in the manger. Those of you who have had children know that feeling. 

There is nothing in this world quite so peaceful as a sleeping newborn. In that moment, we feel everything that the seasons of Advent and Christmas are all about: the hope, the peace, the joy and, most of all, the love. I have vivid memories of the birth of our oldest daughter, Emma. After a difficult delivery, I can remember standing beside her basinet in a room full of newborns. I can still feel the wonder and utter amazement of this miracle of new life. The love I felt then – and still do – fills my heart to overflowing. I imagine that those of you who are parents can relate to this feeling.

For Joseph and Mary, whatever the forces of fear were doing out in the world, it must surely have seemed clear to them both in that moment that the power of love was so much greater. That it would never be vanquished by fear.   In just a moment, we will get another warm and powerful experience of God’s love for us. As we sing Silent Night, the Meeting House will gradually darken.  Our candles will glow brighter and brighter in the darkness.  

And we will start to sing:

Silent night, holy night.

All is calm, all is bright.

Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child,

Holy Infant so tender and mild,

Sleep in heavenly peace,

Sleep in heavenly peace.

That always gives me goose bumps.  It will be for all of us a reminder of the light of God’s love that came into the world in the Christ child.  So, friends, when you are at home tomorrow chilling out on the couch after Christmas dinner, maybe binging on those Hallmark Christmas movies, or watching Frosty or Rudolph or Charlie Brown or the latest Disney holiday movie – and, yes, maybe even Die Hard – remember this.  All those warm and fuzzy feelings of the Christmas season are not childish. They are not misguided. They are not naïve. They are the reflection of God’s love for you and me. Love that we first knew when he chose to become one of us in Jesus of Nazareth.

Today, his love leads us to work for a world built on love for one another. A world that seeks what is best for others.  In God’s infinite wisdom, seeking what is best for others also turns out to be what is best for us. That is a world like God’s Kingdom, the heavenly Kingdom that Jesus will establish on earth when he returns.

May it be so.

Merry Christmas.