I Saw the Light
The man was drunk and out of his mind when his mother led him to the car. She knew he’d pass out in the back seat like he did every other time. She helped him in the car and set out to drive him home.
It wasn’t an isolated occurrence, it always happened when he traveled. He would sleep most of the way home. Then she would wake him when they were about fifteen mins away from his house so he would wake up enough to navigate his way through the front door to his bed.
That night she passed a familiar scene, a small airport. She noticed a familiar light on the control tower, and she told him, “I just saw the light at the airport, you need to wake up son.” The 23-year-old young man crawled in the front seat and grabbed a pen and wrote a song between the control tower and home. That young man was Hank Williams. The song is one of the most well-known gospel songs of the last century; “I Saw the Light.”
Now, that’s not a license write hymnody hungover with a headache! But that story illustrates a deeply spiritual point, even in your darkness, you can see the light.
Jesus said, “You are the light of the world.” That’s the sermon today.
Over the years I’ve noticed that many of us Episcopalians have a particular way that we interpret this passage. It’s always fascinating to me how various Christian traditions read scriptures through the lens of their tradition. You know the old joke about Episcopal tradition, how many Episcopalians does it take to change a lightbulb? That’s easy! Three; one to change it, one to bring the wine and cheese, and one to say how much they’ll miss that old light bulb.
When we hear, “You are the light of the world” we usually hear it:
We hear it as a way of life, a system if you will, to discern right and wrong. It’s a way to develop holy virtues. Shine the light of inclusion and hospitality, the light of God’s love, and the light of social mercy.
Let’s stop there and ask an important question: Do you know which promise in the baptismal covenant is extremely popular in TEC?
The priest asks the person, their family, and the local congregation a series of five questions. We always talk about one, “Will you… respect the dignity of every human being.” We quote that one so often in defense of the marginalized…
But do we know any more of those promises? I’ll confess when I wrote this sermon, I could only recall four of the five. One of the others is, “Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons?” Will you intentionally look into another person to find God’s fingerprint of love? Will you extend the same hospitality to them as you would Jesus?
Ask me something else about light, like how many Episcopalians does it take to change a lightbulb! I know that answer: Two! One to ask the important questions; “Which light bulb? Who donated it? Will they get offended if we remove the old one? Who changes the light bulbs around here? Where is the ladder? Who used it last? Did the pass its bi-weekly safety inspection? Who is in charge of the ladder? Changing this lightbulb is just too complicated! We need to form a lightbulb committee.” And the second one… to take the minutes…
This passage challenges us to purposefully serve Christ in others, and “Love our neighbors as ourselves.”
We usually hear the passage within the context of a Christian ethic that shines the Good News into the world. But there’s another way to see it:
I find it useful to note what Jesus did not say. He did not say, “You can be, you will be, you’re capable, it’s likely that…” He said, “You are the light of the world.” Are! The Greek word eimi: to exist without explicit time limitations. You’re the light of the world without limitations!
He speaks to a threat, a demon, that many of us battle every single day of our lives. He speaks to the intricate recesses of the soul. The space where all our insecurities, our addictions, our rage, our anxieties, and our wounds reside. There, in the spaces of our darkness, he declares our identity. You ARE…
It sounds to me like he’s saying, “You don’t have to wonder if you’re worthless, or if you’re unworthy of God’s love, or if you’re beautiful, or if God’s mad at you. You don’t have to wonder if God forgives you, or if one mistake is an identity. You can release yourself from that jail cell because you are light.
One light can change the world. Shinning the light is not something we do… it’s who we are.
When the light comes on we see ourselves differently than before. It’s like that funny bit in looney toons. Bugs Bunny walks in, sits down, then collapses on the psychiatrist’s couch. The psychiatrist asks, “And what brings you in today?” Bugs says, “Something must be wrong doc, I’ve been having delusions of adequacy.”
Question: how can knowing who we “are” inform our spirituality and our relationships?
You are the light of the world, a city on a hill that serves as a sign of hope. That’s a divine challenge, and that’s a declaration of personhood.
There’s one more thing I want to share. It’s very subtle. Holy Community is fuel for light.
Diocesan Convention: Bishop Curry and Bishop Kendricktalked about “The E word”–Evangelism… We’re also the lighter of the world.
Rachel Remen, M.D. recalled an event in her book, My Grandfather’s Blessings, that that shows us the power of light! Rachel says that medical professionals have a hard time sharing their feelings. So she holds retreats that help caregivers open up and talk about their experiences.
She says it’s even more challenging to get them to share the stories of their vocations. The “why” they chose the medical field.
It was a difficult retreat because everyone was so guarded. Before their arrival, she asked the participants to bring an object that symbolized how they understand their calling. A young nurse named Kim shyly brought a candle. She shared first. She sat an unlit candle on the table in the middle of the room. She lit it and said it represented her true self, and why she’s in the medical field.
One at a time the others shared what their work meant to them. Finally, a woman who was a very sophisticated and accomplished psychiatrist had tears streaming down her face. Instead of using matches to light her candle, she walked over to the lit candle and leaned the wick of her candle to the flame. She said, “My light had gone out in life, but her light lit mine.”
I’ve walked in darkness, clouds covered me
I had no idea where the way out could be
Then came the sunrise and rolled back the night
Praise the Lord, I saw the light
Amen.
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