Nativity of Our Lord - Christmas Day
“The light shines in the darkness.” We know the darkness—even in the merriment of Christmas we need not travel too far to see it. When the prophet Isaiah proclaimed words echoed in our reading, he did not need to go into too much detail as to what the darkness was. This was the darkness of the battlefield, of war and captivity. Our daily headlines remind us of today’s darkness, which Henri Nouwen says “is so visible and tangible . . . that it is often difficult to believe that there is much to think, speak, or write about other than our brokenness” (Life of the Beloved, New York: Crossroad, 1992, p. 69).
But it is into this brokenness that the life and light of the world descends, not to terrify or shame it, but to create it anew. From the beginning this Word was active in creation, speaking obliquely to every culture and era, until the particular time of incarnation. God risks vulnerability in order to reach out to the wounded, and places in creation’s trust the caretaking of a fragile grace. Will the world receive him?
The rest of the story will painfully answer this question. Events at Gethsemane, Gabbatha, and Golgotha will dramatically declare our rejection of the life and light of the world. But the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it. We wrestle with the paradox that the world did not recognize its own light by which it sees, or its own life from which it has life, or the Word that gives it meaning. Yet we also treasure the wonder by which we have been granted eyes to see and ears to hear. At Christmas we perceive the light in infancy, but, grace upon grace, he is a trace of joy given for us.
