December 13, 2020
Hope Lutheran Church
Isaiah 61:1-4; John 1:6-8, 19-28
The Herald of Light
Friends, may grace and peace be yours in abundance in the knowledge of God and Christ Jesus our Lord.
We’re well into the season of Advent now. This brief season uses the beloved ritual of lighting candles on the Advent wreath. Each week we progressively light more candles. As the season advances, the intensity of the light strengthens. And with the increasing light, so grows our anticipation.
For Christians in the northern hemisphere of our globe, Advent falls as our days gradually grow shorter. Today, the sun will rise above the horizon for a brief 8 hours, 48 minutes. And in eight days we’ll mark our winter solstice, the shortest day of the year.
The mood of Advent is filled with hope. Advent is all about looking forward, looking forward to the actions of God in our midst. These lights we kindle now build that hope. They focus our attention on the coming of the eternal light of heaven – our Lord Jesus Christ. He is the light no darkness can overcome. That light made its entrance into our midst at Christ’s nativity.
We hear today the story of John the Baptist. The gospel writer, John, says this about John the Baptist: “He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him.”
John came as a witness to the light. He was the Herald of the Light. And gospel writer John goes to pains to make a critical distinction, lest we should be confused about John: “He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light.” He wants to be very clear: John is not the main event! John is not the light which no darkness can overcome – no, he’s pointing to that great light.
It seems that John caused quite a stir, out there in the wilderness country of Judea. People flocked to see him. So the temple priests sent a delegation to check on John. “Why are you doing these things out here? Who exactly are you, to do these things?”
John answers them in the negative. “I am NOT the Messiah.” He is not Elijah or another prophet, either. John wants to be very clear about his role. John is a herald. He bears witness to the coming light.
John reminds me of the baseball player who points to heaven after hitting a home run. Or the Oscar winning actor who gives thanks to God during their acceptance speech. They point away from themselves and focus on the divine power that blesses them day by day.
This is the point John wants to make. He is not the light! There is something oh, so much brighter than he! THAT is what we need to set our eyes on. THAT is his hope, and our hope! John comes to us every year as a herald to the light of the world.
Every four years the world comes together to participate in the Olympic games. Sadly, those summer games scheduled for this year had to be postponed – fingers crossed – until next summer because of COVID-19. Prior to the beginning of the games, an exciting ritual takes place. The Olympic flame, lit in Greece, is brought to the host country. And then a series of torch bearers relay the flame to the central arena. They pass along the flame from torch to torch. That flame makes its way across the land until it reaches the host city arena. And there, the Olympic cauldron is lit.
These runners are bearers of that Olympic flame. It progresses from place to place as each runner carries it along. As we worship today, we can look to the many generations of believers who have carried the faith in Jesus Christ, the light of the world, all the way to us. They have carried along the torch of faith until their witness has been passed along to us. What a privilege to be heralds of this light!
I’m reminded of a story I read many years ago in a book by Robert Fulghum, "It Was on Fire When I Laid Down on It." Fulghum tells of when he attended a seminar on the Greek island of Crete. The seminar was led by an Eastern Orthodox priest and philosopher by the name of Alexander Papaderos. Papaderos had grown up on Crete during World War II. The island had been invaded by the Nazis. The Nazis treated the inhabitants of Crete with harsh cruelty. As a result of experiencing such inhumanity, Papaderos had resolved to promote peace and understanding between peoples. His institute on Crete was the vehicle through which he accomplished this.
At the end of the two-week seminar, Papaderos asked the class, “Are there any questions?” Fulghum raised his hand. He asked, “What is the meaning of life?” The classroom tittered in laughter. But Papaderos lifted up his hand to quiet them.
Papaderos pulled out his wallet and fished out a small, round mirror. It was about the size of a quarter. He told the class, “When I was a boy during the war, a German motorcycle had crashed along the roadside. The mirror on the bike had broken into pieces. I kept the largest piece, this one. By rubbing it on a stone, I was able to make it round.
“It became a toy for me. I tried to reflect the sunlight onto things. It became a challenge to try to direct the light into the darkest, most inaccessible cracks and holes.
“I kept the mirror, and as I grew into manhood, I came to see that there was meaning behind my little game. It became a metaphor for my life and what I could accomplish. I myself am not the source of the light. But like the mirror, I can reflect light – truth and understanding – into the dark places where people have no light.”
Papaderos concluded, “I am a fragment of a mirror whose whole design and shape I do not know. Nevertheless, with what I have I can reflect light into the dark places of this world — into the black places in the hearts of men — and change some things in some people. Perhaps others may see and do likewise. This is what I am about. This is the meaning of my life.”
The light of Advent proclaims hope, hope to fill our darkness. John came to testify to that light. The many generations from John to us have been blessed with heralds of the light.
The glow from Advent wreaths and Christmas lights illuminate our holiday season. But John’s desire is that this divine light may be kindled within our hearts. It’s the darkness within – dead end hopeless despair, the crushing paralysis of depression, jaded cynicism – these are the deep crevasses and sinkholes in our hearts. These are the deep-down places that yearn for the light of Christ. This is precisely where we most need the herald of light.
John calls us to turn our eyes to Christ. He is ever entering our darkness. John comes each Advent to light the flame of hope in our hearts.
This Wednesday, weather willing, we’ll be hosting a display of luminaries at our church. Luminaries are paper sacks weighted down by a little sand. The sack becomes a lantern when a candle inside is lit. One paper luminary doesn’t create much light. But when hundreds of them are lit together, the effect is quite striking.
Friends, John calls us to be luminaries in our world. John came as a herald of the light. He calls us as heralds, too. We can reflect Christ’ light into the darkness of our world. For some person, you might be the only gospel light they will ever encounter. You, my friend, can bring good news to the oppressed, you can proclaim the year of our Lord’s favor. You can be a herald of the light.
