Sermon for the Octave Day of Christmas
by R. D. Crouse
St. James’ Church, Halifax, 3 January 1988
“The people that walked in darkness have seen a great
light:
they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death,
upon them hath the light shined.”
Isaiah 9.2
Our celebration of the Nativity of Christ coincides with
the season of the winter solstice – that turning point of the year when the
shortest and darkest day is left behind, and the hours of daylight steadily
increase. The returning, or rebirth, of the sun has always been a cause of
great rejoicing, and, all through human history, has given rise to all kinds
of celebrations. In ancient pagan Rome, for instance, at this season, it
was the great festival of Sol Invictus: the celebration of the
unconquered sun. In a climate such as ours, it is perhaps easy to
understand the motivation of such festivals; the growing hours of light
remind us that even though the hardest part of winter still lies before us,
we are surely on the road to spring.
The coincidence of Christmas with the winter solstice has
given rise to much speculation and suspicion. Were the Christians just
trying to divert people from those pagan revellings? Well, perhaps; but
surely there is more to it than that, because the coincidence is full of
profound symbolic significance, which is neither arbitrary nor accidental.
In this, as in so many matters, the course of nature serves as a parable of
spiritual truth: we celebrate the rising of a better sun; the growing of a
light which all the darkness of this present world can never overcome, a
light which shines to life eternal. “The people that walked in darkness
have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of
death, upon them hath the light shined”.
That symbolism of light is fundamental in Holy
Scriptures, from the beginning of the Book of Genesis. In the first instant
of creation, God said, “Let there be light. And there was light” – not the
natural light of the sun and moon and stars; they come later, on the fourth
day – not the light of nature, but the spiritual light of God’s presence,
God’s word, God’s will. The Scriptures begin with that light, and they
conclude with that light: in the Book of Revelation, the holy city of St.
John’s vision has no need of the sun, for the Lamb of God, God’s eternal
Word, is the light which illumines it.
Thus, the Prophet, in today’s lesson, when he speaks of
the coming of the light, is speaking of God’s presence with his people: the
coming of the word of God to deliver those who dwell in darkness.
Isaiah’s words are a great outburst of rejoicing. In his vision of the
coming of the light, he sees the kingdom of Israel restored: a child is
born to sit on David’s throne. “Unto us a child is born, unto us a son is
given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder…of the increase of his
government and peace there shall be no end, upon the throne of David, and
upon his kingdom, to order it, and to establish it with judgement and with
justice henceforth even for ever. The zeal of the Lord of Hosts will
perform this”.
The promised child is the child of Bethlehem, Emmanuel,
God with us. He is God’s word made flesh – a light shining in the darkness,
which the darkness cannot overcome. He is the promised Messiah, who sits on
David’s throne as saviour of his people; and therefore his name is “Jesus”,
which means just that: “Jehovah saves – God saves”. He comes as the light,
as the rising of the sun, to illumine all the nations, and to be the glory
of his people, Israel.
Thus the prophesies are fulfilled in him: but they are
also transformed in his fulfilling of them. They are given a deeper
spiritual sense. He comes to restore the kingdom, no doubt; but what is the
Israel he restores? The new Israel is not the kingdom of an earthly
territory; it is a kingdom of the spirit. He comes to break oppression; but
the oppression which he breaks is not the oppression of Babylon or Rome; it
is not the oppression of flesh and blood; it is the deeper, and altogether
more hateful and devastating oppression of spiritual blindness, and
deceitful lusts and vain ambitions. The captivity from which he liberates
is the captivity of the confused and wayward human soul, the captivity of
sin and hopelessness. The darkness he illumines is the darkness of the
human mind and heart. In the frozen darkness of our winter, he brings
promise of a rebirth of the spirit.
“The people that walked in darkness have seen a great
light: they that swell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath
the light shined.” That is the light of the glory of God’s eternal word.
That is the light of the first day of creation, and that is the light which
shines upon the heavenly Jerusalem. And that is the light which illumines
the manger scene in Bethlehem, for there is the Word made flesh, and there
we see, if we will only look, “the light of the knowledge of the glory of
God in the face of Jesus Christ”. May that light illumine the dark, cold
stables of our hearts with promise of a new life.
As Robert Herrick puts it, in his lovely carol:
Dark and dull night, fly hence away,
And give the honour to this day,
That sees December turn to May,
If we may ask the reason, say:
We may see him come, and know him
ours,
Who with his sunshine and his
showers,
Turns all the patient ground to
flowers.
In today’s Gospel Lesson, we have St. Luke’s story of the
shepherds, hastening to Bethlehem “to see the thing which is come to pass.”
“And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told
them concerning this child. And all they that heard it wondered at those
things which were told them by the shepherds. But Mary kept all these
things, and pondered them in her heart.”
The world was indeed astonished by the strange story the
shepherds had to tell; but we, we who have worshipped at the manger, let us,
with Mary, treasure these things, and ponder them in our hearts. Let that
be the ground of our peace, and of our rejoicing, in this New Year.
Amen. +