The Light Shines In The Darkness, And The Darkness Cannot Overcome It
Sermon
Sermons On The First Readings
Series I, Cycle B
Lament. What a powerful biblical word. Lament. To cry out to God from the depths, aching, grieving, yearning, mourning the loss of that which you cannot even imagine living without.
In today's lesson, great and powerful King David laments the loss of King Saul and of Saul's son Jonathan, David's beloved friend from the time of his youth. One thing about David: he does everything passionately, from the core of his being. He celebrates passionately; he worships passionately; he loves passionately; he prays passionately; he mourns passionately.
"Your glory, O Israel, lies slain upon your high places! How the mighty have fallen! ... You mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew or rain upon you, nor bounteous fields! For there the shield of the mighty was defiled, the shield of Saul, anointed with oil no more ... How the mighty have fallen, and the weapons of war perished!"
David calls all creation to join his lament of Saul and Jonathan.
David's lament for King Saul is striking because the history of the relationship between Saul and David was fraught with tension. A kind of love/hate relationship on Saul's part. Some biblical scholars have wondered whether King Saul was manic depressive. One moment he loves and appreciates David. The next minute he tries to kill him! Somewhat understandable in that God called the prophet Samuel to anoint the shepherd boy David as King while Saul still reigned. David started his military career off with a bang with his amazing victory over the Philistine giant, Goliath. After that first battle with the Philistines, as the Israelite army marched home in joyous celebration, the women sang, "Saul has killed his thousands; and David his ten thousands!" In other words: "Rah! Rah! King Saul is great! Rah! Rah! The shepherd boy David is greater!" It's no wonder King Saul found David to be a threat. So much so that later he and his troops sought David's life.
But there is another thing about David. He had integrity. He fought fair. He had honor, whereas King Saul applied every underhanded, sneaky tactic to try to get David's head. David, on three different occasions, had the opportunity to take King Saul's life, but would not, because he would not slay God's anointed one. In fact, I think David lamented the fact that Saul was jealous of him, and sought his life, for deep down, I think he loved Saul, and wished that there were peace between them.
So perhaps David's lament for Saul was also a lament for that which would never be -- for the loss of that hope, that potential, of a future wherein he and Saul could make amends. David mourned the death of King Saul on many levels.
David mourned another death as well, that of his beloved friend, King Saul's son, Jonathan. The friendship between David and Jonathan is one of the most profound examples of friendship we find in the Bible. They were friends from the time of their youth. One of the most remarkable things about their friendship was the complete lack of jealousy and competition between them, particularly on Jonathan's part. For Jonathan, as King Saul's eldest son, was the one slated to be the next king of Israel. If anyone should have been jealous of David, it should have been Jonathan. But we see none of that. Quite the opposite. At the beginning of their friendship, in fact, we read: "The soul of Jonathan was bound to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul ... Then Jonathan made a covenant with David, because he loved him as his own soul. Jonathan stripped himself of the robe that he was wearing, and gave it to David, and his armor, and even his sword and his bow and his belt" (1 Samuel 18:1-4). In this symbolic action Jonathan gave up his succession to the throne, and bestowed it upon his friend David in his place. Talk about selfless love! I think the friendship between Jonathan and David is one of the most remarkable examples of friendship you can find. On another occasion, when Jonathan knew that his father Saul was feeling obsessed with jealousy toward David, and feared that his father would kill David, Jonathan actually defied his father, King Saul, and risked his own life to help David escape. Thus was the love between Jonathan and David.
In today's text we see David's deep, painful remorse at the loss of his most beloved, faithful friend: "Jonathan lies slain upon your high places. I am distressed for you, my brother, Jonathan; greatly beloved were you to me; your love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women. How the mighty have fallen, and the weapons of war perished!"
In today's text David's soul aches with passionate lament. But what does David do in his grieving? He creates from it the beginning of new life. With his words of lament which we just heard, he composes a song, a song which he plays upon his lyre, a stringed instrument like a guitar. Only a heart large enough to know great joy can feel such deep sorrow. But in turning his lament into a song, David shows us that, even as he grieves, he hopes. Even as he laments, he knows, that "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it" (John 1:5).
Today we as a church family, like David, lament. I as a pastor lament. A pastor's life is both incredibly difficult and incredibly awesome. Again and again and again you are with people in the most overwhelmingly painful times in their lives, and also in the most sublime, joyous, beautiful, awesome times of their lives. All Christians are ministers -- so really, that is what all of our lives are to be like in this mystery and miracle called the body of Christ -- the church family.
Even as we lament, our souls proclaim the refrain. Say it with me: "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it!" Even in the midst of the dark storm of our grieving, we have that peace which surpasses all our understanding. That peace is like the calm eye of the storm. God never said we will not have storms, but that somehow in the midst of them, we will know that God is with us.
For those of you who have not heard, just a month ago, we lost seventeen-year-old Sara in a tragic car accident. Then this week, Wednesday, we lost Dan, who just celebrated his eighteenth birthday, in a tragic train accident. Dan's mother works in our church office as our Activities Director; his family lives in our parsonage. Wednesday was probably one of the most difficult days in our life as a church family. All that dark day we were with Dan's family. And yet ... and yet the way you have gathered up his family and ministered to them, and to one another, has been incredible. It has shown that even as we grieve, we hope. Even as we lament, we remind one another, say it with me, "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it."
Thursday, the day after, I asked Dan's grandfather, "How can I be most helpful to you and your family this day?" He said something remarkable. He said, "Go about your pastoral duties. Continue to live life, as a pastor and as a mom. Go home, and hug your children." In other words, life is stronger than death. Say it with me: "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it." In the midst of our suffering we experience that peace which passes all our understanding.
So Thursday I did as Dan's grandfather said. One of my pastoral duties that day was to serve at God's Galley, our soup kitchen here in town. During my opening announcements, I asked for their prayers for Dan's family. We then said grace, and people filed through the line for their meal. Total strangers came through the line, reached out, grasped my hand, tears filling their eyes, and said, "I've been praying for that mother since I heard." "We've been praying for that family all day." They sent me off with dinner for Dan's family. "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it." In the midst of our pain, we are somehow flooded with that peace which passes all our understanding.
Thursday night, we had our monthly Church Council meeting. As a Council we unanimously voted to establish a Sunday School Memorial Fund to the glory of God in Dan's honor and memory, since Dan loved kids. We signed up to bring dinners to his family. One of our members who owns a landscaping company gave a beautiful, flowering dogwood as a living memorial. We decided that we would use the memorial money to put up basketball hoops in the church parking lot, and build a playground for young children in the yard of our Christian Life Center. In other words, even as we grieved, we hoped for the future. Even in the midst of the storm, we knew that peace which surpasses our understanding. Even in the face of death, we chose signs of new life. Even as we lamented, we proclaimed, "Life is stronger than death." And "the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it."
Friday afternoon I celebrated the sacrament of holy baptism for two teenagers, John and Mary, brother and sister. Because John and Mary are Native Americans, they share my feeling that the most beautiful cathedral there is, is God's creation. So I baptized John and Mary at the home of their uncle, on a beach. The setting was sublime. God's Word, which their mother and I had selected for their baptismal day, was sublime. John and Mary are two gorgeous, incredible, strong, young people, embodying in their beauty and their youth hope, promise, potential. Do you know that every time we have a death in the family of faith we also have a baptism? I know that is God's way of proclaiming to us that life is stronger than death. "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it."
Today, we celebrate Andrew's baptism. We celebrate the awesome beauty of this child, this family, of the gift of God's grace in baptism. Indeed "the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it."
Today our children will plant bulbs at the conclusion of our children's sermon, and learn the Bible verse, "Because I live, you will live also" (John 14:19). Because Christ lives, we shall live also. "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it."
A few years ago, Lent was especially difficult for me. I confess that I just wasn't up for Lent. I confess that in my core I hungered to skip over the darkness, the struggle, the suffering, the cross of Lent and jump straightaway to Easter. Then I had a kitchen sink realization. As I stood washing dishes at my kitchen sink, it struck me that Jesus did not say, "Pain and suffering are down that path, so I think I'll take the other path." No, Jesus took a deep breath, and went down to meet darkness head on, and by so doing, overcame it. There at the kitchen sink, it struck me that as Christians, that is our task as well.
It's not easy. I admit sometimes, I'll be having a good, an "up" day. Frankly, I don't feel like calling those who are facing death, those who are in deep grieving, those who are suffering. But then I remember the kitchen sink realization about Jesus, so I do. I take a deep breath, call them, and say, "I just want you to know that I'm thinking about you. Would you like to get together some time?" As Christians, that's all we need to do. We don't need to say all the right words or do all the right things. We just have to be willing to show up. To be there. Not to turn away when everyone else does because it's just too heavy. Our very presence as a brother, a sister, in Christ will proclaim, "The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness cannot overcome it."
Years ago when I was a student at Harvard Divinity School, I went to a Billy Graham Rally. I looked at it as a learning experience. I have to say, I was very impressed. During the altar call, when they invite everyone who is ready to make a commitment to Christ, everyone who is willing to let Christ take control of their life, to come forward to the altar, they had hundreds of counselors mingled in with the crowds to talk with/minister to those who came forward during the altar call.
This afternoon a lot of hurting young people are going to be here at Dan's funeral. Many of them were here for Sara's funeral just a month ago. I have a vision of all of us being like those Billy Graham counselors. I have a vision of all of us, even though it's hard, taking a deep breath, and sitting beside some kid who looks in real pain, reaching out and grasping his hand, talking to him afterwards, sharing with him some comfort, strength, or hope in your own words, in your own way, or with no words at all, just by your presence, your caring, proclaiming to him that "the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it."
Thursday, the day after Dan's death, I walked my children to school. Then I walked home with four-year-old Kaitlin and her mom. Kaitlin was reveling in the fact that it was the first warm day, her first day in shorts and in a tee-shirt. She kept begging her mother, "Please can I take my sweatshirt off? Please?" Finally, her mother shrugged her shoulders and said, "Okay." Kaitlin threw off the clothes of winter, and danced in the breeze, in the sunshine. "Dance with me, Mommy!" she laughed. "Yeah, right," her mom said, hesitating.
I didn't hesitate. I joined her. I danced because "the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it."
Yesterday, I had a dilemma. My daughter Victoria and I had been signed up for eight months for a Brownie Girl Scout overnight at the Boston Aquarium. My daughter, of course, had long been looking forward to this mommy/daughter field trip. But sleep on the floor of the Boston Aquarium with a dozen little girls and their moms the night before church, before I preach, the night before a baptism, the night before First Communion, the night before Dan's funeral? Try to write two sermons there at a Brownie Girl Scout overnight? The insanity of it all!
But Dan's grandfather had told me and you to "continue to live life in all its fullness." He had, in so many words, told us to dance in the breeze and in the sunshine, even in the shadow of death. To turn our mourning into a song. Not to let death have the final word. Rather in our words, in our presence, in our living, to proclaim, especially to those who dwell in darkness, in grief, in pain, in the shadow of the valley of death, that "the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it." Amen.
In today's lesson, great and powerful King David laments the loss of King Saul and of Saul's son Jonathan, David's beloved friend from the time of his youth. One thing about David: he does everything passionately, from the core of his being. He celebrates passionately; he worships passionately; he loves passionately; he prays passionately; he mourns passionately.
"Your glory, O Israel, lies slain upon your high places! How the mighty have fallen! ... You mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew or rain upon you, nor bounteous fields! For there the shield of the mighty was defiled, the shield of Saul, anointed with oil no more ... How the mighty have fallen, and the weapons of war perished!"
David calls all creation to join his lament of Saul and Jonathan.
David's lament for King Saul is striking because the history of the relationship between Saul and David was fraught with tension. A kind of love/hate relationship on Saul's part. Some biblical scholars have wondered whether King Saul was manic depressive. One moment he loves and appreciates David. The next minute he tries to kill him! Somewhat understandable in that God called the prophet Samuel to anoint the shepherd boy David as King while Saul still reigned. David started his military career off with a bang with his amazing victory over the Philistine giant, Goliath. After that first battle with the Philistines, as the Israelite army marched home in joyous celebration, the women sang, "Saul has killed his thousands; and David his ten thousands!" In other words: "Rah! Rah! King Saul is great! Rah! Rah! The shepherd boy David is greater!" It's no wonder King Saul found David to be a threat. So much so that later he and his troops sought David's life.
But there is another thing about David. He had integrity. He fought fair. He had honor, whereas King Saul applied every underhanded, sneaky tactic to try to get David's head. David, on three different occasions, had the opportunity to take King Saul's life, but would not, because he would not slay God's anointed one. In fact, I think David lamented the fact that Saul was jealous of him, and sought his life, for deep down, I think he loved Saul, and wished that there were peace between them.
So perhaps David's lament for Saul was also a lament for that which would never be -- for the loss of that hope, that potential, of a future wherein he and Saul could make amends. David mourned the death of King Saul on many levels.
David mourned another death as well, that of his beloved friend, King Saul's son, Jonathan. The friendship between David and Jonathan is one of the most profound examples of friendship we find in the Bible. They were friends from the time of their youth. One of the most remarkable things about their friendship was the complete lack of jealousy and competition between them, particularly on Jonathan's part. For Jonathan, as King Saul's eldest son, was the one slated to be the next king of Israel. If anyone should have been jealous of David, it should have been Jonathan. But we see none of that. Quite the opposite. At the beginning of their friendship, in fact, we read: "The soul of Jonathan was bound to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul ... Then Jonathan made a covenant with David, because he loved him as his own soul. Jonathan stripped himself of the robe that he was wearing, and gave it to David, and his armor, and even his sword and his bow and his belt" (1 Samuel 18:1-4). In this symbolic action Jonathan gave up his succession to the throne, and bestowed it upon his friend David in his place. Talk about selfless love! I think the friendship between Jonathan and David is one of the most remarkable examples of friendship you can find. On another occasion, when Jonathan knew that his father Saul was feeling obsessed with jealousy toward David, and feared that his father would kill David, Jonathan actually defied his father, King Saul, and risked his own life to help David escape. Thus was the love between Jonathan and David.
In today's text we see David's deep, painful remorse at the loss of his most beloved, faithful friend: "Jonathan lies slain upon your high places. I am distressed for you, my brother, Jonathan; greatly beloved were you to me; your love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women. How the mighty have fallen, and the weapons of war perished!"
In today's text David's soul aches with passionate lament. But what does David do in his grieving? He creates from it the beginning of new life. With his words of lament which we just heard, he composes a song, a song which he plays upon his lyre, a stringed instrument like a guitar. Only a heart large enough to know great joy can feel such deep sorrow. But in turning his lament into a song, David shows us that, even as he grieves, he hopes. Even as he laments, he knows, that "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it" (John 1:5).
Today we as a church family, like David, lament. I as a pastor lament. A pastor's life is both incredibly difficult and incredibly awesome. Again and again and again you are with people in the most overwhelmingly painful times in their lives, and also in the most sublime, joyous, beautiful, awesome times of their lives. All Christians are ministers -- so really, that is what all of our lives are to be like in this mystery and miracle called the body of Christ -- the church family.
Even as we lament, our souls proclaim the refrain. Say it with me: "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it!" Even in the midst of the dark storm of our grieving, we have that peace which surpasses all our understanding. That peace is like the calm eye of the storm. God never said we will not have storms, but that somehow in the midst of them, we will know that God is with us.
For those of you who have not heard, just a month ago, we lost seventeen-year-old Sara in a tragic car accident. Then this week, Wednesday, we lost Dan, who just celebrated his eighteenth birthday, in a tragic train accident. Dan's mother works in our church office as our Activities Director; his family lives in our parsonage. Wednesday was probably one of the most difficult days in our life as a church family. All that dark day we were with Dan's family. And yet ... and yet the way you have gathered up his family and ministered to them, and to one another, has been incredible. It has shown that even as we grieve, we hope. Even as we lament, we remind one another, say it with me, "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it."
Thursday, the day after, I asked Dan's grandfather, "How can I be most helpful to you and your family this day?" He said something remarkable. He said, "Go about your pastoral duties. Continue to live life, as a pastor and as a mom. Go home, and hug your children." In other words, life is stronger than death. Say it with me: "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it." In the midst of our suffering we experience that peace which passes all our understanding.
So Thursday I did as Dan's grandfather said. One of my pastoral duties that day was to serve at God's Galley, our soup kitchen here in town. During my opening announcements, I asked for their prayers for Dan's family. We then said grace, and people filed through the line for their meal. Total strangers came through the line, reached out, grasped my hand, tears filling their eyes, and said, "I've been praying for that mother since I heard." "We've been praying for that family all day." They sent me off with dinner for Dan's family. "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it." In the midst of our pain, we are somehow flooded with that peace which passes all our understanding.
Thursday night, we had our monthly Church Council meeting. As a Council we unanimously voted to establish a Sunday School Memorial Fund to the glory of God in Dan's honor and memory, since Dan loved kids. We signed up to bring dinners to his family. One of our members who owns a landscaping company gave a beautiful, flowering dogwood as a living memorial. We decided that we would use the memorial money to put up basketball hoops in the church parking lot, and build a playground for young children in the yard of our Christian Life Center. In other words, even as we grieved, we hoped for the future. Even in the midst of the storm, we knew that peace which surpasses our understanding. Even in the face of death, we chose signs of new life. Even as we lamented, we proclaimed, "Life is stronger than death." And "the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it."
Friday afternoon I celebrated the sacrament of holy baptism for two teenagers, John and Mary, brother and sister. Because John and Mary are Native Americans, they share my feeling that the most beautiful cathedral there is, is God's creation. So I baptized John and Mary at the home of their uncle, on a beach. The setting was sublime. God's Word, which their mother and I had selected for their baptismal day, was sublime. John and Mary are two gorgeous, incredible, strong, young people, embodying in their beauty and their youth hope, promise, potential. Do you know that every time we have a death in the family of faith we also have a baptism? I know that is God's way of proclaiming to us that life is stronger than death. "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it."
Today, we celebrate Andrew's baptism. We celebrate the awesome beauty of this child, this family, of the gift of God's grace in baptism. Indeed "the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it."
Today our children will plant bulbs at the conclusion of our children's sermon, and learn the Bible verse, "Because I live, you will live also" (John 14:19). Because Christ lives, we shall live also. "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it."
A few years ago, Lent was especially difficult for me. I confess that I just wasn't up for Lent. I confess that in my core I hungered to skip over the darkness, the struggle, the suffering, the cross of Lent and jump straightaway to Easter. Then I had a kitchen sink realization. As I stood washing dishes at my kitchen sink, it struck me that Jesus did not say, "Pain and suffering are down that path, so I think I'll take the other path." No, Jesus took a deep breath, and went down to meet darkness head on, and by so doing, overcame it. There at the kitchen sink, it struck me that as Christians, that is our task as well.
It's not easy. I admit sometimes, I'll be having a good, an "up" day. Frankly, I don't feel like calling those who are facing death, those who are in deep grieving, those who are suffering. But then I remember the kitchen sink realization about Jesus, so I do. I take a deep breath, call them, and say, "I just want you to know that I'm thinking about you. Would you like to get together some time?" As Christians, that's all we need to do. We don't need to say all the right words or do all the right things. We just have to be willing to show up. To be there. Not to turn away when everyone else does because it's just too heavy. Our very presence as a brother, a sister, in Christ will proclaim, "The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness cannot overcome it."
Years ago when I was a student at Harvard Divinity School, I went to a Billy Graham Rally. I looked at it as a learning experience. I have to say, I was very impressed. During the altar call, when they invite everyone who is ready to make a commitment to Christ, everyone who is willing to let Christ take control of their life, to come forward to the altar, they had hundreds of counselors mingled in with the crowds to talk with/minister to those who came forward during the altar call.
This afternoon a lot of hurting young people are going to be here at Dan's funeral. Many of them were here for Sara's funeral just a month ago. I have a vision of all of us being like those Billy Graham counselors. I have a vision of all of us, even though it's hard, taking a deep breath, and sitting beside some kid who looks in real pain, reaching out and grasping his hand, talking to him afterwards, sharing with him some comfort, strength, or hope in your own words, in your own way, or with no words at all, just by your presence, your caring, proclaiming to him that "the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it."
Thursday, the day after Dan's death, I walked my children to school. Then I walked home with four-year-old Kaitlin and her mom. Kaitlin was reveling in the fact that it was the first warm day, her first day in shorts and in a tee-shirt. She kept begging her mother, "Please can I take my sweatshirt off? Please?" Finally, her mother shrugged her shoulders and said, "Okay." Kaitlin threw off the clothes of winter, and danced in the breeze, in the sunshine. "Dance with me, Mommy!" she laughed. "Yeah, right," her mom said, hesitating.
I didn't hesitate. I joined her. I danced because "the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it."
Yesterday, I had a dilemma. My daughter Victoria and I had been signed up for eight months for a Brownie Girl Scout overnight at the Boston Aquarium. My daughter, of course, had long been looking forward to this mommy/daughter field trip. But sleep on the floor of the Boston Aquarium with a dozen little girls and their moms the night before church, before I preach, the night before a baptism, the night before First Communion, the night before Dan's funeral? Try to write two sermons there at a Brownie Girl Scout overnight? The insanity of it all!
But Dan's grandfather had told me and you to "continue to live life in all its fullness." He had, in so many words, told us to dance in the breeze and in the sunshine, even in the shadow of death. To turn our mourning into a song. Not to let death have the final word. Rather in our words, in our presence, in our living, to proclaim, especially to those who dwell in darkness, in grief, in pain, in the shadow of the valley of death, that "the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it." Amen.
