Lights

Saint Lucia, by envy5

   

Midweek Vespers

Second Week of Advent

A Reading from the Holy Gospel According to St John:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it.

There was a man sent from God whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.

The Word of the Lord. Thanks be to God.

Homily:

Lord, we pray for the preacher, for You know his sins are great. Grace mercy and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Every year, on 13 December, I set an early alarm—earlier than usual, as I typically get up around 6am—and I bake a tray of sweet-rolls. Then I get our middle daughter out of bed, wrap her up in a white robe, and place a crown of candles on her head. These are electric, mind you, as we don’t want to burn down the house. Then, as I play a haunting melody by Jonna Jinton on my phone, our daughter carries breakfast to the rest of our family yet abed.

This is because, once a year, our daughter is Sankta Lucia. Now, I did not grow up with this tradition, but, as with all things Nordic, I married into it. We’ve been faithfully fulfilling folklore ever since our daughter was a little girl, and someday, when she’s off to college, I fear that I will miss it. She wasn’t the eldest child, she wasn’t the youngest child, but once a year she was Sankta Lucia, and no-one could take that from her. Or me.

The historical St Lucy lived in Sicily, a far cry from Scandinavia, where she fell afoul of the law by feeding Christians in the catacombs. Back then, faith in Jesus Christ was punishable by death. Yet this did not deter her. The story goes that Lucy wore a ring of candles on her head so as to keep her hands free to carry baskets of bread for faithful fugitives hiding underground. Eventually she got caught and got killed, a young martyr for a young faith.

The reason why she’s famous farther north came centuries later, when a Swedish supply ship broke a blockade to feed a hungry city on St Lucy’s Day. People in port claimed to witness a woman wreathed in light upon the prow. Lucy, or Lucia, literally means “light.” And people who dwell in darkness, in the cold Norse December, enthusiastically embraced her as a spirit of the Light. Even the Reformation could not dampen their enthusiasm for Sankta Lucia.

Advent is funny that way. Even amongst the strictest of Protestants, sainthood comes to the fore. Calvinists who would never countenance a statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary at any other time of the year proudly display Nativity scenes in their yards. Nicholas, that most famous of saintly wonderworkers throughout the Christian East, found new devotees in Dutch New York as our own Santa Claus. No matter how wild you imagine Santa’s story to be, I promise you it’s really so much wilder.

Yet when you boil it down, when you distill the essence of holy lives like those of Nicholas and Lucy, they are known for simple kindnesses and reckless acts of love. Lucy fed the hungry. She risked her neck for the persecuted and condemned. Nicholas gave generously, standing up for the poor and the needy, using his episcopal authority to rescue all in all kinds of distress. They preached Christ, through their lives; not with voice alone but coupled with daring acts of compassion.

The historical Nicholas was skinny, yet we give Santa greater girth in order to emphasize his giving, his superabundant generosity. Lucia served beneath the Sicilian sun, yet we know her best as a light in the dark, on the longest nights of the year. Jesus promised to His followers: “Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these.” Saints continue the work of Christ because we are the Christ.

All of us, here, together, are made one in Jesus Christ, as members of His Body, as temples of His Spirit. This is the crux of Christian faith: that when we are one in Jesus, then we are one with God. Scandalous but true! We gather to hear Jesus’ teachings, to pray His prayers, to follow His example. In so doing, we eat His Body, drink His Blood, and breathe His Holy Spirit. And from this union, this divine-humanity found in Word and in Sacrament, flow all the wonders of salvation and forgiveness and eternal resurrection.

We spoke last week of how Advent is a time of preparation, and silence, and darkness; that Christ is with us, Christ is within us, even as we await Him, even as He’s hidden. The metaphor for this is pregnancy: the Word of God growing within us, as He grew in Mary. And when He is born, when He comes forth, He comes through our flesh! We are His hands, we are His feet, we are His voice in this world. We are Jesus for everyone who needs Him.

Christ is born through Christians, in every generation. That should be Law enough to terrify the mightiest of rulers, and Gospel all-sufficient to raise the lowly from their graves. The mystery of the Church is the Incarnation. God becomes Man in Jesus Christ, that we become God in Him. It gives me chills.

That’s the thing with all these saints, with Nicholas and Lucy, Santa Claus and Sankta Lucia. The reason people love them is that they see Jesus in them. The world might not fully grasp this. They might not fully understand why they are drawn to saintly spirits of generosity and light. But it’s because they give us Jesus. Childlike wonder at an undeserved gift; food for the hungry and light for the blind; true and simple acts of love are heralds of the Christ!

We see Jesus in them, and wish to find Him in ourselves as well. And thanks be to God, that’s exactly where He is. When we are baptized, when we hear the Word, when we commune with the Body and the Blood, Jesus dwells within us, His Holy Spirit fills us. We are loved without condition, without limit, without end. And this frees us—Jesus frees us—to go and do the same for all the world. We are given so much grace that we have to give it away, we want to give it away, we love to give it away. Our cup overflows.

A sweet-roll in the morning might not seem a mighty thing. But she who is faithful in little shall be faithful also in much. Love one another, in ways both large and small, for by doing so we give the world the greatest gift of all: the Christ.

In the Name of the Father and of the +Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.