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St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD
December 29, 2024
The First Sunday after Christmas
Isaiah 61:1-10-62:3
Psalm 147:13-21
Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7
John 1:1-18
The Light, Shining Forth in Our Lives
Merry Christmas!
Each year, I mention how Advent is the most countercultural season of the church year.
Out in the world, the so-called Christmas season now begins around Labor Day (I think that’s what we said, right?).
Meanwhile, here in church, we do our best to hold off on Christmas until December 24th. We take the holy season of Advent very seriously, preparing the way of the Lord with John the Baptist, and saying “yes” to God with the Virgin Mary.
And then, because we’ve stubbornly stuck with Advent, the transformation of our church to Christmas glory is even more spectacular.
Because we’ve stuck with Advent, the Christmas music sounds even more magnificent.
Because we’ve stuck with Advent, our Christmas joy is, well, even more joyful.
So, Advent is definitely countercultural.
But, you know, the Christmas Season is also countercultural.
I mean, out in the world, by now Christmas is pretty much over and done. Now is the time to get some great deals at all the “After Christmas” sales.
I haven’t seen this in Baltimore, but in New York City it’s common to see Christmas trees, stripped of their decorations, lying at the curb on December 26th, now just another piece of trash.
Out in the world, Christmas is over and it’s on to the next thing.
But, here in church, we’re celebrating the Twelve Days of Christmas – a whole little season of joy.
It’s still Christmas.
And, maybe to make sure we get that message, today’s gospel lesson – the Prologue of the Gospel of John – is the same passage that we heard on Christmas morning.
It’s John’s Christmas story – a story much different from what we hear in Matthew and Luke.
John doesn’t include anything about there not being room at the inn, or the manger, or the angels singing “Glory to God in the highest.”
There’s nothing about shepherds amazed by the whole spectacle.
Nothing even about Mary and Joseph
Instead, John gives us a cosmic Christmas, looking all the way back to the dawn of creation.
And, in his cosmic Christmas story, John reveals that the Light that was present with God in the first moment – the Light that is God - the Light that is life itself – this Light is now shining our shadowy world – and there is no shadow deep enough to extinguish the Light of Christ, never, no matter what.
You know, I love the Christmas stories in Matthew and Luke.
I love when our children reenact those stories, dressed up as Mary and Joseph, as angels and shepherds, as mysterious visitors from the East.
I love when we have a real live baby Jesus, like we did this year, though young Henry Brooks was so quiet and peaceful, maybe some people didn’t realize that he was real!
I love those wonderful stories that never lose their power, but John’s cosmic Christmas reminds us that the birth of Christ is not only an historical event.
The Light of Christ continues to shine into our shadowy world, continues to shine in our often-shadowy hearts.
And, with God’s help, the Light of Christ can shine forth in our lives.
And, if you’re wondering what the Light shining forth in our lives looks like, well, it just so happens that we have three baptisms coming up in just a couple of minutes.
The Light is already shining forth in their beautiful faces and in the love of their parents and grandparents and the rest of their families.
And, with God’s help and ours, the Light will continue to shine forth in the lives of Denison, Huck, and Gideon, as they grow in their faith, when they keep their baptismal promises.
The Light will continue to shine forth…
When they gather with other Christians for prayer and Communion.
When they resist evil and ask forgiveness when they mess up.
When they proclaim the Good News by word and example.
When they seek and serve Christ in all people.
When they strive for justice and peace.
That’s what the Light shining forth in our lives looks like.
It’s not a history lesson.
The Light is available to us, here and now.
And this Light never dies.
So, this is my fourth Christmas here at St. Thomas’.
(I know, I don’t believe it, either – I had to check my math to be sure.)
And, by the time you get to your fourth Christmas at a church, when you have the services and the schedule all figured out, you pretty much know how it’s going to go.
It’s nice. It sort of feels like a family Christmas.
Something else about four Christmases:
This year, as I reviewed the Christmas memorials, I reflected on how I’ve known an increasing number of people on that list – each year there are more people I had the chance to know and to love.
People I miss very much.
Very much including our beloved Beaumont Martin.
So, I was already missing Beaumont and thinking about her family and friends, as they face this first hard Christmas without her.
And then on Christmas Eve afternoon, when the church staff and I were scrambling to deal with all the last-minute details, a man came to the office door, someone I didn’t recognize.
He introduced himself and said that each year at Christmas he came to our churchyard to place a wreath on the grave of his great-great-grandfather.
But this year, he was surprised to find that a wreath was already there.
At first, he thought maybe some other relative had visited but he was pretty sure that no one else in his family kept this meaningful ritual.
And then he noticed that the wreath on his great-great-grandfather’s grave was identical to the wreaths that were placed on many other graves around the churchyard.
And that’s when he decided to come to the office and find out just what was going on.
Jane our Parish Administrator and I explained how over the last couple of years our parishioners – you – have made special donations so we can buy additional wreaths to place on some of our oldest graves, the graves of people who are probably no longer remembered by anyone who is alive, the graves of people remembered now only by God.
This man was dumbstruck by this news, stunned by your generosity, awed by your willingness to let our shine out for people long gone, people who can’t thank us, at least not yet.
And, as many of you know, this wreath project – this shining light - was Beaumont’s idea, her joy, just one of her gifts to us.
So, Merry Christmas.
It’s still Christmas.
The Light of Christ is still shining our shadowy world – and there is no shadow deep enough to extinguish the Light, never, no matter what.
The Light continues to shine in our often-shadowy hearts.
And, with God’s help, the Light can and will shine forth in our lives.
Forever.
Amen.
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