Christmas Eve
Donna G. Joy

Isaiah 9:2-7; Psalm 96; Titus 2:11-14; Luke 2:1-20

A long time ago, in a Galilee far, far away, a child was born and with this birth a new and radiant light came into the world; this child would grow into a man, and through his life, death, and resurrection he would destroy the force - the power - of evil. As I am sure most of you are aware, the new Star Wars movie has been released, and countless people are now celebrating Christmas through the Star Wars lens. So, I asked Linda to begin this homily with the music to Star Wars, because I wanted to look at where the theme of these two stories may be similar and where they differ. Star Wars is based on the mythology of Joseph Campbell, who believed that all religion, and in this case Christianity, starts as a myth. Joseph Campbell believed that in our search for meaning, we create myths which spring from our imagination, and those myths lead us to create something in which we may believe and find meaning. Campbell would say that out of the myths formed from our imaginations, we Christians have created a story, which is the birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus.

I think the key to Joseph Campbell's conviction, is that all religion is something that humanity has created in order to satisfy the need for meaning in our lives.In my view, one of the primary problems with Joseph Campbell's theology is that he is giving humanity way too much power; enough power to have actually created God and the stories about God out of the myths of our imaginations. It is possible to enjoy the Star Wars stories, even be a huge fan of them, while at the same time not follow the theological underpinnings of Campbell's mythology.

C.S. Lewis, on the other hand, is one who argues the opposite. He believes that the human imagination is able to engage in myth because God has implanted within the human psyche a realization of God's existence and role as Creator. Some scientists have discovered what they believe to be a piece of the human brain which actually leads us to search for the deity. These scientists would suggest that it was this piece in Lewis' brain that guided his love of myth toward a belief in the incarnation; the birth of Christ.

The key to C.S. Lewis' conviction is that the Judeo-Christian story lays the foundation for everything else; it is a story that has been given to us by the very God within it; it is a story that transforms and empowers our vulnerability; it is our primary story and liberates our imaginations and the very lives we live.

So, in a nutshell: Joseph Campbell leads his followers to believe that humanity has created religion and the stories that go with it; C.S. Lewis leads us to believe that God creates humanity and through humanity, the stories that shape and inform us. The stories tonight are significant in terms of their role in shaping and transforming us as the people of God.

Also, the Star Wars story and its battle between good and evil is one that remains distant; one that remains a long time ago, in a Galaxy far, far away.Even as the Star Wars story is being passed on from one generation to the next, it remains a story that takes place in a galaxy far, far away. The Christian story is one that is ancient and begins at a bit of a distance (with its beginnings a long time ago, in places far, far away), and yet - at the same time - it is one that is always intimate; one that lives on in the hearts, the minds, the lives of each generation: changing, transforming, and informing the very lives we live. The Judeo-Christian story is one that is both ancient and current – always all at the same time.

Our reading this evening from Isaiah is one from a long time ago, in a place far, far away; it speaks of, anticipates, a time when God's light will come into the world in a particular way. Those people in ancient Israel knew the reality of struggle. They knew from experience all about war, and turmoil, evil and sin. In the midst of all this, they had one brief moment where they thought God had put them on the right track with the reign of King David, Israel's greatest king, and there was hope for another one like him. David had combined wisdom and strength with a compassion for people and the ability to establish peace.

And in tonight's reading we hear Isaiah's assurance that the God who has again and again saved the people of God, is promising and preparing to do so again. "The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness - on them light has shined." We believe that Isaiah is anticipating here the arrival of the Prince of Peace, and that the arrival of this great light into the world will carry on, "from this time onward and forever more." Clearly, a story about God and the People of God that begins, "a long time ago, in a land far, far away," but one that continues throughout the rest of time; continues to unfold here, in this place, tonight."

Our Psalm continues this theme as it speaks of God's rule which extends to everyone, everywhere, and for all time. Clearly, a promise from the most ancient of times which continues throughout the ages, here tonight, and beyond.

Our Gospel, of course, offers the climax of this story; that moment in history when this great light appears with the arrival of the long awaited Jesus; the Prince of Peace. Although we often view this story through the lens of a Hallmark Christmas card, there are many facets that speak of oppression and homelessness, poverty, and despair. Oppression: This story takes place in the midst of oppressive Roman rule, which is why Mary and Joseph have to travel such a distance in the first place. Homelessness and poverty: Mary and Joseph are, in fact, a couple of refugees, as is their child. After such a long and arduous journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem (111 km), they finally arrive, tired, stiff, sore... only to discover that people with greater social standing than them have been given the available places, and there is no room left for them to stay. Also, it is shepherds, in other words those who are associated with the poor and marginalized who are the first in Luke's story to see the star and visit the child. And the child, the long awaited king, finds his home in a manger – feeding trough for the animals – rather than a throne. Later, near the end of his life, he wears a crown of thorns, rather than one of jewels.

Clearly, the backdrop for this whole story is oppression, homelessness, and poverty. And, it is in the midst of all this that this child, this Prince of Peace, is born; it is in the midst of all this that this great light has come into - and illuminates - the world. It is in the midst of all this that this child is to grow into the man he was called to be, die so that our relationship with God may be restored, and rise so that our lives may be renewed; so that our lives may become that very light that shines into a darkened world. Clearly, the God who creates us and the stories that shape us, has come into the world to be with, dwell with, those who are poor, lost, troubled, marginalized, lonely, afraid.

As far back as ancient Israel (a long time ago, in a land far, far away) out of the very depths of despair, the people anticipated the coming of this birth - this light - into the world. And tonight, we celebrate this birth; this birth which took place a long time ago, in a Galilee far, far away. But perhaps more importantly, we celebrate this birth - the coming of this light into the world - here, within us, within our communities, within this world in which we live. And, as I read and reflect on this troubled world in which we live today, much like the ancient birth story itself, I see this light shining in surprising places.

Within the context of Canadian history, it is pretty impossible to deny the consequences and oppression of colonialism in such particular places as residential schools; there is no way we can turn the clocks back to reverse the abuse that took place; to give back the lives that were lost along with loss of family, language and culture and the consequences of this on generations to come. There is a deep darkness to this history which continues to impact on the lives of countless people today and continues to create a sense of deep sadness that is difficult to shake.

And then, rising out of the ashes of such death, loss, and injustice, God sends us people like Justice Murray Sinclair whose commitment, wisdom, leadership, and guidance has made it possible for us to identify and confront the injustices, create strategies for peace and reconciliation, and begin to see signs of hope and new possibilities. Certainly we will not fully see the fruits of this work in our lifetime, but a sacred process has, indeed, begun. Indeed, the people who walked in darkness have begun to see a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness - (through people such as Justice Murray Sinclair) - on them a light has shined, and will continue to shine with God working through our politicians and other leaders, and each of us.

Earlier this fall, a few short months ago, the eyes and hearts of the world were opened to the plight of the countless Syrian refugees as we witnessed the image of the body of a tiny little boy (Aylan Kurdi) washed up on a Turkish beach. This refugee family had been searching for a new home, but - like Mary and Joseph - their attempts had failed. Indeed, this was and remains a dark moment on the world stage.

And then, rising out of this and so many untold tragedies, increasing European and North American countries are establishing refugee sponsorship as a priority. Watching the media coverage in Toronto and Winnipeg this past week as Syrian refugees arrived in Canada was deeply moving. People were there to meet the new arrivals; musicians, gifts, were all part of what encouraged the new arrivals to feel welcome and embraced. Countless people and community organizations are stepping up to the plate to help these new arrivals become integrated into their new home. Once again, the people who walked in darkness have begun to see a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness - on them a light has shined, and will continue to shine with God working through our politicians and each of us.

I recently read an article which talked about a sermon preached by our Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby. In this sermon, he spoke about the death of his daughter, who died five days after being involved in a car accident. He said that the accident had occurred as they were moving back to the UK after several years living in Paris. He said that when this happened they returned to the church where they had been married, and they began to rebuild. He talks about their grief, and the wise friends who loved them through it; who loved them and looked after them; whose love and wisdom helped motivate them to move forward. And he talks about the child whose birth we celebrate tonight - the light - that came into the world; God's beloved child, whom he sent, whom the angels announced, whom he sent to live this risky life, and who died unjustly some 30 years later, many years too soon, unfairly, unjustly. And he says that he and his wife turn to that child and see in that child that there is hope and healing that is so boundlessly deep, so extraordinarily puzzling sometimes, but so wonderfully embracing, that in the dark moments and the light moments we are held and comforted and carried, often unawares.

Essentially, Justin Welby is saying that he and his wife know the devastation of a terrible kind of grief, and yet, in the midst of it, through the gift of faith community, they have found comfort and love, healing and hope; that is, they have found the gift of the child whose birth we celebrate this night; the child whose light shines in the darkest places of our world and our lives. Once again, the people who walked in darkness have begun to see a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness - on them a light has shined, and will continue to shine with God working through each of us as followers of that light.

As we celebrate the gift of this birth, I encourage you to open your eyes and your hearts to the light that shines in unexpected places, offering hope in the midst of despair; and I encourage you to recognize where you may be channels through which that light may shine for others. Remember that it was people in their parish where that light shone for Justin Welby and his wife in the midst of their grief.

And so, tonight as we celebrate the story of a great and glorious birth which took place a long time ago, in a Galilee far, far away, we also recognize that the gift of this birth lays the foundation for our very existence; and the light that came into the world on that holiest of nights continues to shine in our world and in our midst.