Mass during the Day
Dec. 25, 2004
John 1: 1-5, 9-14
Immaculate Heart of Mary, Scarsdale, N.Y.
“The light shines in the darkness, and the
darkness has not overcome it” (John 1: 5).
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| Adoration of the Shepherds (Robert Leinweber) |
Why do we feel better on bright, sunny days
like today than on overcast or rainy ones like Thursday? Why do horror movies so often involve dark
old mansions? What is it that attracts
us to a glowing fireplace or a campfire?
Why do we instinctively fear the dark?
Why are light and color so important a part of our Christmas festivity?
Light and darkness are powerful images. Light makes us feel comfort, warmth,
splendor, life. Darkness is threatening,
cold, ugly, deadly. We dress our heroes
in light—the knight in shining armor, Luke Skywalker in astronautical
whites. Our villains wear black hats,
black capes, even black masks, like Darth Vader.
Light and life, hope, glory, security—these
are the intangible and everlasting dreams of all men and women in all ages, in
all places. We dream of creating utopian
societies, cities of light, justice, and peace.
We create and pass on romantic myths:
Don’t
let it be forgot
That
once there was a spot
For
one brief shining moment
That
was known as Camelot.
King Arthur’s pursuit of righteousness and
peace has come down in legend, poetry, musical drama, and the Sunday
comics. We’ve created the historical
myth of an American Camelot, the “one brief shining moment” of 1961 to 1963.
Our pursuit of the light and what the light
symbolizes is always shadowed, however.
Our dark world has its Mordreds, its Oswalds, its Herods. Our own inner selves hold powers that, like
the Star Wars script, we may call the “dark side” as well as any other
name. Light always contends with
darkness. Mortal, sinful, and grasping
as we are, we carry within us the seeds of both light and darkness.
“In the beginning,
when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was formless wasteland,
and darkness covered the abyss, while a mighty wind swept over the waters. Then God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there
was light. God saw how good the light
was” (Gen 1:1-4). The author of the
priestly creation story in Genesis appreciated the power of symbol when he made
light the 1st of God’s creations, the 1st step in bringing order out of the
primeval chaos of wasteland, abyss, wind, and water. The 1st Christians appreciated the power of
symbol when they recognized Jesus as the light of the world, a world still a
wasteland of greed, oppression, war, poverty, illness, every sort of human
misery.
No one knows when
Jesus was born. We’re not sure of the
year, much less the month and the day.
The Church celebrates the birth of Jesus on Dec. 25 because the pagan
Romans celebrated the promised triumph of light over darkness, life over death,
on that day. Three or 4 days after the
winter solstice came the festival of the Unconquered Sun: darkness hadn’t conquered the world; days
were starting to lengthen again; spring, life, and warmth were sure to
return. So the Romans made merry and
praised their gods.
When Rome was christianized
in the 4th century, all of Rome was christianized—book-burnings and such
barbarism would come only in the Dark Ages—but in the 4th century, pagan
temples became churches, pagan Vergil became a prophet, and pagan festivals
became holy days. Dec. 25 became the day
of the Eternal Sun (there’s no play on words in Latin), the light of the world,
the day when he shone upon mankind by entering our history.
“In the beginning was
the Word…. All things came to be thru
him …. What came to be thru him was life,
and this life was the light of the human race” (John 1:1,3-4). Christ’s birth is, for John the Evangelist,
the culmination of God’s long process of enlightening us with his Word. The light of God’s eternal Word has meant
life and light for us since that 1st moment of creation John evokes, since
the giving of the Law to Moses, since the preaching of the
prophets. “The light shines in the
darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (1:5). Both the chosen people and the pagan nations
resisted the light of the Word and the life it means. But the light can’t be put out.
With Christ’s coming
among us, we see God’s love personalized and enfleshed. We see God’s love in action. We see and understand that God’s Word is part
of us. The light shines in the
darkness—the darkness of our sinfulness, our misery, our mortality—and this
darkness still doesn’t overcome the light.
No matter how much the powers of darkness resist Jesus, they can’t
overcome him. He overcomes them,
finally, decisively. “The Lord has bared
his holy arm in the sight of all the nations; all the ends of the earth will
behold the salvation of our God” (Is 52:10).
Jesus takes to
himself our sins and forgives them. He
overcomes the darkness of the grave, shows us that death is hollow and life is
eternal. He offers us a way to peace
within ourselves and between ourselves, promises us a place in his eternal
glory. “When the Son had accomplished
purification from sins, he took his seat at the right hand of the Majesty on
high” (Heb 1:3), and “from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace”
(John 1:16 RSV).
Making Christmas a
season of light is more than appropriate.
We’re not only brightening dismal December but also reminding ourselves
that Jesus is our light, and no darkness can overpower him in our lives or in
our destiny.
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