Light Of The World
Sermon
Praying For A Whole New World
Gospel Sermons For Advent/Christmas/Epiphany Cycle C
One of the striking features of the Gospel of John is the way it depicts the life and ministry of Jesus Christ. The other gospels usually tell us stories about Jesus. Then, like the disciples, we are left to ask, "Who is this, that wind and sea obey him? Who is this who feeds the multitude on a couple of loaves and a few fish?" But in the Gospel of John, there's never a doubt who Jesus is, because he tells us. Usually he does so with a statement that begins with the words, "I am." Put him in a situation and he will clarify who he is and what he has come to do.
You can put him in the desert surrounded by people who are chronically unsatisfied, and Jesus says, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty" (John 6:35).
You can put him in the midst of people who are confused, people who ask, "Who are you, Jesus? What makes you different from all the other gurus, rabbis, and religious leaders?" And Jesus says, "I am the gate for the sheep. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture" (10:7, 9). It is an act of self-definition.
You can put him at graveside, in the midst of grief-stricken people, and Jesus says, "I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live" (11:25).
Or put him in the midst of people who feel disconnected by life's difficulties, and Jesus says, "I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing" (15:5).
In the Gospel of John, in one situation after another, Jesus defines himself and says, "This is who I am...." In the eighth chapter, Jesus says, "I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life" (8:12). His words echo the opening words of the Fourth Gospel, where the writer defines the person and work of Jesus in terms of light. "What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people ... The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world" (1:3-4, 9).
Jesus says, "I am the light of the world." This is the kind of thing we might expect to hear in these days after Christmas. Not long ago we gathered on Christmas Eve to hear the prophet Isaiah say, "The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light." We don't know if old Isaiah had any idea who or what he was talking about, yet we celebrate Christmas as a festival of light. We string up twinkle lights on fir trees. We illumine our houses. We burn candles in the windows and plug in GE bulbs on the shrubbery. We burn up the kilowatts because Jesus Christ is born. In the bleak midwinter, why not shine a little light?
In fact, every Christmas in the church where I grew up, somebody always asked grown adults to dress up as shepherds and ushers to play the part of wise men. They recruited a young pregnant couple to take the role of Joseph and Mary. What about the baby Jesus? They could have gotten a real baby for the part, but it was always safer to hide a 100-watt light bulb in the manger, because, after all, Jesus Christ is the light of the world. We have heard him say it, although he never exactly said what that means. What can it mean for Jesus to say, "I am the light of the world"?
Elsewhere Jesus turns to the church and says, "You are the light of the world." Of course, that's the Gospel of Matthew, not John. And when he says it, he is specifically talking about doing good works. "All of you are a thousand points of light," he says, and then he adds, "Don't you dare hide your light under a bushel basket."
But here in the Gospel of John, Jesus never says, "You are the light." Rather he says, "I am the light." What does that mean?
You can sit in physics class and learn a lot of things about light. Ask Stephen Hawking, who holds the Newton chair at Cambridge. He will tell you that light is the ultimate constant in the universe, that it always travels at 186,000 miles per second, that light transmits energy, radiation, and information. Or ask a third-grader to put a sunbeam through a prism and you will see the spectrum of a rainbow. Physics can tell us a great deal about light. But there's one thing physics has never explained, namely, what exactly do we mean by that word "light"? What is it? We know it when we see it, but we can't really explain what it is. Unlike space or time, light cannot be defined over against anything else. Light simply exists. What does it mean for Jesus to say, "I am the light of the world"?
Whatever it means, this is an important concept for the Gospel of John. Two different times, the writer depicts Jesus as saying, "I am the light." On many occasions, the writer affirms that the coming of Jesus into our world is not merely a light shining, but light breaking into the darkness. It is as if Creation is happening all over again.
For the writer says, "All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being" (1:3). Look around a dark world and you may see it. The Creator of heaven and earth has come to visit his creation. Read the face of nature and it becomes obvious. See the snowflakes, so wondrously and specifically created. Look at the shadowy clouds, brooding with kindness. Listen to the chipmunk chattering on a tree limb. Watch the trout jumping for joy.
"All things came into being through him ... What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people" (1:3). That is, in Jesus of Nazareth, the very primal energy of the Creator is breaking anew not only in creation, but also in God's creatures. All of us were created in Jesus Christ. And all of us are re-created in Jesus Christ. "The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world" (1:9).
I begin to take seriously those words from the Christmas carol that says, "Light and life to all He brings."1 See the freckled face of a child, re-created at 5 a.m. on Christmas morning. Or see it in the mischievous smirk of my grandmother. Last year she extracted her gleeful revenge on her once-loud grandson by giving a very noisy toy to his little girls.
For those who can see it, there is light and life given on Christmas. Ask the recovering alcoholic who finally gets through the holidays without needing a drink. Pay attention to the table where a stranger has been invited to fill an empty chair. See it in a sanctuary full of candles, "shepherds quaking at the sight," and tears streaming down the cheeks of bankers, bakers, and business people. Jesus said, "I am the light of the world." At Christmas time, we might not be able to explain completely the fullness of what that means, but we know it when we see it.
It's a new beginning, a new birth, for "Christ the Savior is born." And "to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God," children re-born not through human means, but through the bright, shining grace of God (1:12). In that sense, Jesus is the light of the world. "Light and life to all he brings"; that's the promise for all who can believe it and embrace it.
And yet, I also need to warn you: Jesus is the light of the world. His light comes into our darkness. Let's admit that sometimes we don't want anybody to turn on the lights. There are deeds done in darkness that we don't want anybody to see. The coming of light means everything is exposed. Light means we have to deal with the truth. That can be very painful.
There was a priest in a midwestern city who wanted to help inner-city children. He wanted them to see something more than their own situations. He put them on a bus and took them to see some things of great beauty. They went to the art museum and saw paintings by the masters. They went to a symphony matinee and heard beautiful music. They went for a walk through a row of homes that were done over by a creative team of architects. That young priest showed those children the best and brightest things he knew. Then they climbed back on the bus and went home. That night one of those young boys set his apartment house on fire. They rescued the neighbors and family, but the place burned down. The priest was in tears when he visited the boy in a detention cell. "Why did you do it?" he asked.
"I saw all those beautiful things," said the boy, "and then I came home and saw how ugly my world was, and I hated the ugliness, so I wanted to burn it down." Shine some light in a dark place and there's no telling what will happen.
When all you have ever seen is darkness, that is all you know. And when light comes, it makes for a contrast. Darkness remains a choice. In fact, it is possible for light to come into the world, and for somebody to say, "Turn out the lights!" It is possible for the Light of the world to shine on people, and those very people may not accept it. As someone once put it:
What is it to live in such darkness? We deceive ourselves if we think of primitive people in the dark remote areas of the world, still without digital watches and microwave ovens. We deceive ourselves if we think only of derelicts crawling along the dark alleyways of our cities. It is also darkness to refuse to hear the truth and to tolerate no teacher or preacher or politician who tells it. It is to avoid certain sections of town so as not to be disturbed by the conditions in which some have to live. It is to avoid any book or any speaker who shatters my illusions of innocence in this evil world. It is not to ask questions at work, at home, or at church because I prefer to let sleeping dogs lie. It is to persuade myself that problems in the schools, in the neighborhood, in society at large are really none of my business.2
We know the darkness intimately. "This is the crisis of the world," says the Gospel of John. "Light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light ..." (3:19).
And yet, the light of the world has come, and it is Jesus. Not just any light, but the light of the One who "brings grace and truth." He reveals the truth of who we are and who we are not. He also shines forth the grace of a God who gives life and rebirth. His truth is a light that exposes and reveals. But his grace is a light that renews as well as reveals, exposes and yet also forgives. The light is more than a candle in the night. The light of the world is Jesus, our Savior.
A friend named Tom tells about a night when he was a teenager. He and his friends were walking around the neighborhood. It was a warm night and very dark. Suddenly one of them saw a police car and shouted. They hadn't done anything wrong, but they didn't want to be seen, either. So they began to run. The police car saw them and watched them turn down an alley. Tom tripped and knocked over some trashcans. The police officers got out the car and began to go after them. One of the officers turned on a searchlight. Tom looked around for his friends, but didn't see them. All he saw was that burning, searing searchlight, looking for him.
Tom jumped behind those trashcans, only to find his friends huddled there. With frantic energy they tried to hide, pulling trash over their heads and hoping to blend in. The spotlight fell on Tom. "Come out where we can see you," said the voice behind the light. Tom stood up where he was, covered in garbage.
"What are you doing?" said the voice.
Tom stammered, "Nothing."
The voice said, "I can't hear you. What are you doing?"
Tom said, "Officer, I wasn't doing anything wrong; I saw the light, I ran, I knocked over these garbage cans. I'm sorry about the disturbance." The searchlight was beaming into his eyes, blinding him. He stood there in the light with nowhere to hide.
Then the voice said, "I think I recognize you. Don't you live around the corner?"
"Yes," he stammered. His heart was racing, and he thought to himself, "My life is ruined. If I don't get arrested for disturbing the peace, something worse will happen: this officer is going to tell my parents."
But then the voice behind the light said something unexpected. "Son, I'm not here to punish you; I'm here to protect you."
As he stood before that searchlight, Tom says he caught a glimpse of what it means to stand before Jesus, who is the Light of the World. There he was, fully exposed yet completely protected. He was fully revealed, yet free from unnecessary punishment. He stood hip-deep in garbage, yet cleaner than he had ever felt, somehow cleansed by a light that cast no shadow.
In that moment, he saw something of what it means to stand in the presence of Jesus Christ, who is full of truth and full of grace.
"I am the light of the world," says Jesus. "Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life" (8:12). And the church affirms, "The light shines in the darkness, and no darkness shall overcome it" (1:5).
So brothers and sisters, I have only one thing to add: don't be afraid.
____________
1. "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing," Charles Wesley, third stanza.
2. Fred B. Craddock, John (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1982), p. 64.
You can put him in the desert surrounded by people who are chronically unsatisfied, and Jesus says, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty" (John 6:35).
You can put him in the midst of people who are confused, people who ask, "Who are you, Jesus? What makes you different from all the other gurus, rabbis, and religious leaders?" And Jesus says, "I am the gate for the sheep. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture" (10:7, 9). It is an act of self-definition.
You can put him at graveside, in the midst of grief-stricken people, and Jesus says, "I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live" (11:25).
Or put him in the midst of people who feel disconnected by life's difficulties, and Jesus says, "I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing" (15:5).
In the Gospel of John, in one situation after another, Jesus defines himself and says, "This is who I am...." In the eighth chapter, Jesus says, "I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life" (8:12). His words echo the opening words of the Fourth Gospel, where the writer defines the person and work of Jesus in terms of light. "What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people ... The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world" (1:3-4, 9).
Jesus says, "I am the light of the world." This is the kind of thing we might expect to hear in these days after Christmas. Not long ago we gathered on Christmas Eve to hear the prophet Isaiah say, "The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light." We don't know if old Isaiah had any idea who or what he was talking about, yet we celebrate Christmas as a festival of light. We string up twinkle lights on fir trees. We illumine our houses. We burn candles in the windows and plug in GE bulbs on the shrubbery. We burn up the kilowatts because Jesus Christ is born. In the bleak midwinter, why not shine a little light?
In fact, every Christmas in the church where I grew up, somebody always asked grown adults to dress up as shepherds and ushers to play the part of wise men. They recruited a young pregnant couple to take the role of Joseph and Mary. What about the baby Jesus? They could have gotten a real baby for the part, but it was always safer to hide a 100-watt light bulb in the manger, because, after all, Jesus Christ is the light of the world. We have heard him say it, although he never exactly said what that means. What can it mean for Jesus to say, "I am the light of the world"?
Elsewhere Jesus turns to the church and says, "You are the light of the world." Of course, that's the Gospel of Matthew, not John. And when he says it, he is specifically talking about doing good works. "All of you are a thousand points of light," he says, and then he adds, "Don't you dare hide your light under a bushel basket."
But here in the Gospel of John, Jesus never says, "You are the light." Rather he says, "I am the light." What does that mean?
You can sit in physics class and learn a lot of things about light. Ask Stephen Hawking, who holds the Newton chair at Cambridge. He will tell you that light is the ultimate constant in the universe, that it always travels at 186,000 miles per second, that light transmits energy, radiation, and information. Or ask a third-grader to put a sunbeam through a prism and you will see the spectrum of a rainbow. Physics can tell us a great deal about light. But there's one thing physics has never explained, namely, what exactly do we mean by that word "light"? What is it? We know it when we see it, but we can't really explain what it is. Unlike space or time, light cannot be defined over against anything else. Light simply exists. What does it mean for Jesus to say, "I am the light of the world"?
Whatever it means, this is an important concept for the Gospel of John. Two different times, the writer depicts Jesus as saying, "I am the light." On many occasions, the writer affirms that the coming of Jesus into our world is not merely a light shining, but light breaking into the darkness. It is as if Creation is happening all over again.
For the writer says, "All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being" (1:3). Look around a dark world and you may see it. The Creator of heaven and earth has come to visit his creation. Read the face of nature and it becomes obvious. See the snowflakes, so wondrously and specifically created. Look at the shadowy clouds, brooding with kindness. Listen to the chipmunk chattering on a tree limb. Watch the trout jumping for joy.
"All things came into being through him ... What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people" (1:3). That is, in Jesus of Nazareth, the very primal energy of the Creator is breaking anew not only in creation, but also in God's creatures. All of us were created in Jesus Christ. And all of us are re-created in Jesus Christ. "The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world" (1:9).
I begin to take seriously those words from the Christmas carol that says, "Light and life to all He brings."1 See the freckled face of a child, re-created at 5 a.m. on Christmas morning. Or see it in the mischievous smirk of my grandmother. Last year she extracted her gleeful revenge on her once-loud grandson by giving a very noisy toy to his little girls.
For those who can see it, there is light and life given on Christmas. Ask the recovering alcoholic who finally gets through the holidays without needing a drink. Pay attention to the table where a stranger has been invited to fill an empty chair. See it in a sanctuary full of candles, "shepherds quaking at the sight," and tears streaming down the cheeks of bankers, bakers, and business people. Jesus said, "I am the light of the world." At Christmas time, we might not be able to explain completely the fullness of what that means, but we know it when we see it.
It's a new beginning, a new birth, for "Christ the Savior is born." And "to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God," children re-born not through human means, but through the bright, shining grace of God (1:12). In that sense, Jesus is the light of the world. "Light and life to all he brings"; that's the promise for all who can believe it and embrace it.
And yet, I also need to warn you: Jesus is the light of the world. His light comes into our darkness. Let's admit that sometimes we don't want anybody to turn on the lights. There are deeds done in darkness that we don't want anybody to see. The coming of light means everything is exposed. Light means we have to deal with the truth. That can be very painful.
There was a priest in a midwestern city who wanted to help inner-city children. He wanted them to see something more than their own situations. He put them on a bus and took them to see some things of great beauty. They went to the art museum and saw paintings by the masters. They went to a symphony matinee and heard beautiful music. They went for a walk through a row of homes that were done over by a creative team of architects. That young priest showed those children the best and brightest things he knew. Then they climbed back on the bus and went home. That night one of those young boys set his apartment house on fire. They rescued the neighbors and family, but the place burned down. The priest was in tears when he visited the boy in a detention cell. "Why did you do it?" he asked.
"I saw all those beautiful things," said the boy, "and then I came home and saw how ugly my world was, and I hated the ugliness, so I wanted to burn it down." Shine some light in a dark place and there's no telling what will happen.
When all you have ever seen is darkness, that is all you know. And when light comes, it makes for a contrast. Darkness remains a choice. In fact, it is possible for light to come into the world, and for somebody to say, "Turn out the lights!" It is possible for the Light of the world to shine on people, and those very people may not accept it. As someone once put it:
What is it to live in such darkness? We deceive ourselves if we think of primitive people in the dark remote areas of the world, still without digital watches and microwave ovens. We deceive ourselves if we think only of derelicts crawling along the dark alleyways of our cities. It is also darkness to refuse to hear the truth and to tolerate no teacher or preacher or politician who tells it. It is to avoid certain sections of town so as not to be disturbed by the conditions in which some have to live. It is to avoid any book or any speaker who shatters my illusions of innocence in this evil world. It is not to ask questions at work, at home, or at church because I prefer to let sleeping dogs lie. It is to persuade myself that problems in the schools, in the neighborhood, in society at large are really none of my business.2
We know the darkness intimately. "This is the crisis of the world," says the Gospel of John. "Light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light ..." (3:19).
And yet, the light of the world has come, and it is Jesus. Not just any light, but the light of the One who "brings grace and truth." He reveals the truth of who we are and who we are not. He also shines forth the grace of a God who gives life and rebirth. His truth is a light that exposes and reveals. But his grace is a light that renews as well as reveals, exposes and yet also forgives. The light is more than a candle in the night. The light of the world is Jesus, our Savior.
A friend named Tom tells about a night when he was a teenager. He and his friends were walking around the neighborhood. It was a warm night and very dark. Suddenly one of them saw a police car and shouted. They hadn't done anything wrong, but they didn't want to be seen, either. So they began to run. The police car saw them and watched them turn down an alley. Tom tripped and knocked over some trashcans. The police officers got out the car and began to go after them. One of the officers turned on a searchlight. Tom looked around for his friends, but didn't see them. All he saw was that burning, searing searchlight, looking for him.
Tom jumped behind those trashcans, only to find his friends huddled there. With frantic energy they tried to hide, pulling trash over their heads and hoping to blend in. The spotlight fell on Tom. "Come out where we can see you," said the voice behind the light. Tom stood up where he was, covered in garbage.
"What are you doing?" said the voice.
Tom stammered, "Nothing."
The voice said, "I can't hear you. What are you doing?"
Tom said, "Officer, I wasn't doing anything wrong; I saw the light, I ran, I knocked over these garbage cans. I'm sorry about the disturbance." The searchlight was beaming into his eyes, blinding him. He stood there in the light with nowhere to hide.
Then the voice said, "I think I recognize you. Don't you live around the corner?"
"Yes," he stammered. His heart was racing, and he thought to himself, "My life is ruined. If I don't get arrested for disturbing the peace, something worse will happen: this officer is going to tell my parents."
But then the voice behind the light said something unexpected. "Son, I'm not here to punish you; I'm here to protect you."
As he stood before that searchlight, Tom says he caught a glimpse of what it means to stand before Jesus, who is the Light of the World. There he was, fully exposed yet completely protected. He was fully revealed, yet free from unnecessary punishment. He stood hip-deep in garbage, yet cleaner than he had ever felt, somehow cleansed by a light that cast no shadow.
In that moment, he saw something of what it means to stand in the presence of Jesus Christ, who is full of truth and full of grace.
"I am the light of the world," says Jesus. "Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life" (8:12). And the church affirms, "The light shines in the darkness, and no darkness shall overcome it" (1:5).
So brothers and sisters, I have only one thing to add: don't be afraid.
____________
1. "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing," Charles Wesley, third stanza.
2. Fred B. Craddock, John (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1982), p. 64.
