1 First Light A Meditation on Hope -- Luke 1: 67-79; I Cor. 13:13 December 1, 2013 It s a gentle light that plays among the trees at dawn, when birds awaken from their slumber and begin to speak, a bit unsure first one and then another, and shortly a chorus. In a moment of awe and inexpressible innocence, the monk Thomas Merton writes, God in perfect silence opens their eyes. Merton imagines that in dawn s quiet light, the birds ask if it is time for them to be. God answers yes, and one by one they wake up and become birds. And so, each morning, says Merton, creation in its innocence asks permission to be once again, as it did on the first morning there ever was. 1 Such is the gift of first light, if you can happen to really be there, if that fleeting hour is not crowded out by alarms or dulled by inadequate sleep. I treasure that time, if I have gone to bed early enough, and even when I haven t to wake up slowly in the dim light of early morning before the rush of the day, to listen, to pray, to wait upon God and to wait upon the body as it begins to move. Such early light speaks of hope in the gentlest of ways. Indeed, the haste of the day seems an abrupt interruption to dawn s message of grace. For all of us, creatures of God, live by the divine breath lest we forget and begin our day under our own steam. 1 Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander. Garden City, NJ: Doubleday, 1966.
2 Hope, our first theme of Advent, is a lot like that first light of morning beautiful, serene, and sure in its coming, but hard to capture in words or images. Perhaps it is because we use the word hope too freely and like other important words, lump it onto phrases that we no longer hear deeply. In fact, all too often, we use hope to describe our doubts rather than our faith: I hope you like this whatever (you can fill in the blank), we say timidly to the one receiving our gift, our food, our effort. It is helpful in defining such a word to ferret out what hope is not. Hope is not a fantasy, nor wishful thinking. It is not glossy optimism, nor does it always lead to a fairy tale ending. Maybe you saw the Disney movie Mulan--the story of a strong, gifted young woman who in male disguise, saves imperial China from overthrow. In the end, like her fairy tale sisters, Mulan is set to wed a handsome guy and live happily ever after. After watching the original movie with my daughter a least a dozen times, I found Mulan II. Though not nearly as good as the original, the sequel did offer a realistic portrayal of the now not-so-perfect couple working out their differences, arguing in their struggle to understand one another. After all, even happily ever after is likely to be bumpy! The point is that hope by its very nature is attached to the real. To be hopeful in bad times, historian Howard Zinn writes, is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness.
3 As I was thinking about hope, my mother reminded me of the 150 th anniversary of the Gettysburg Address. Abraham Lincoln, dedicating the cemetery at very site where more than 50,000 perished, reverently implored his listeners, family and friends of those who had died and disconsolate citizens, to remember that the American experiment of government of, by, and for the people was worthy of their hope. No wonder Lincoln s 272-word speech has been memorized by generations of schoolchildren! Indeed, hope speaks the loudest in a landscape of fear and loss. That is where we find the hearers of Zechariah, John the Baptist s father in the Luke passage Dale just read. Zechariah prophesies that his son, John, would herald a new Light, the coming of Messiah. In my mind, some of the most beautiful words in all of Scripture are to be found Zechariah s message: By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us. Nevertheless, the dawning of Messiah Jesus would be no simple equation for hope. He would not ultimately liberate the Jewish people from the tyranny of their oppressors, the Romans yet the truth and healing Jesus revealed would spur a movement that has endured through millennia. And we realize now that Jesus needed the Apostle Paul, who needed Francis of Assisi, who needed Gandhi, Mother Teresa, and Martin Luther King, Jr., and countless others to spread his message of God s kingdom breaking in upon a dark world. Yet, there in a little stable in Bethlehem, hope attended a humble birth, of that we can be sure!
4 In Corinthians, Paul names hope among three primary virtues, the middle sister between faith and the greatest of all, love. Perhaps Paul had a point to the order he gave. That in the exercise of faith, we find hope. Unlike passing wishes for particular outcomes, hope is built upon an openness to mystery, whose foundation is faith. Hope s open-handed posture is not easy. We would prefer to work with known quantities formulas for success. Yet hope, by definition, admits uncertainty. And such hope does not disappoint because Love is waiting on the other side. In Romans 8, Paul says it even more boldly: Nothing, not even death, can separate us from the love of God found in Christ Jesus. Yet exercising one s faith takes intention, takes community. I need spiritual practices of prayer, reading scripture, singing hymns, listening to poets like Mary Oliver, and study to strengthen my own muscles of hope. I also need a community of seekers like all of you, who witness to an abiding faith in God, and buoy one another in dark days. Literally, in December, the darkness is lengthening as we await Christ s birth. So we must watch ever faithfully for the signs of dawn. Howard Zinn points out that in thinking about history, we should not forget those times and places where people have behaved magnificiently for by looking to them, we find the energy to act. Likewise, we must pay attention to hope s voice in the present. I found hope the other day reading about an 18-year-old Filipino caring devotedly for his younger sister and brothers having lost his parents and other
5 siblings in the typhoon. Love incarnated in the most dismal of circumstances! And I found hope last week learning about the apostolic exhortation newly issued by the Pope. Like Saint Francis, after whom the Pope is named, the Pope calls upon Christians to remember the joy of the Gospel, to stop being in his words, sourpusses. He also speaks of the need for the Catholic Church to change, opening up the possibility of women in high leadership roles. And he criticizes what he calls unfettered capitalism, an economy of exclusion, bidding powerful nations to address the very structural causes of poverty. Pretty radical words for Catholic and Protestant alike! And so the question echoes: Where are you finding hope these days? Surely, the dawning from on high that we witness in Christ s birth is alive and well when we dwell in hope, when we pray and work for God s kingdom come on earth, when we give of our resources to help others, when we speak out on behalf of the poor, and when we trust a Love that will not let us go, not ever. Such is the nature of First Light; we breathe in God s love and awaken to a new day.
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