Sunday, 13 December 2020

Advent 3 St Lucy

 

Isaiah61.1-4, 8-end, John 1.6-8, 19-28

 

I wonder whether you’ve put any Christmas lights up yet, or whether you’re intending to. It seems to me that there are more lights around this year than ever, and perhaps that’s no surprise after all we’ve been through. The ones in the village went up last weekend – many thanks to Marion who organised that and all those who helped to do it. Philip put ours up around the front of the vicarage last week, so we’re lovely and twinkly. Christmas trees are being decorated with lights, and, of course, Advent candles like ours in church are gradually being lit as we approach Christmas. Christians aren’t alone in celebrating with lights at this time of year. The Jewish feast of Hannukah was last week, and the Hindu celebration of Diwali a few weeks ago – both festivals of light. If you live in the Northern Hemisphere it’s easy to see why there is such an obsession with lights at this time of year. Few of us really like the long nights of winter.. Light is important emotionally as well as practically. We need these light-filled celebrations to cheer us up and remind us that the darkness won’t go on forever.

 

Today, as well as being the third Sunday of Advent, is also St Lucy’s Day, a saint who is very much associated with light. Her name comes from the Latin word for light - lux. She was a young Sicilian Christian who was martyred in Syracusa around 304 AD, in a wave of persecution under the Emperor Diocletian. It is said that she refused to enter a forced marriage with a wealthy pagan man, who was so incensed at this that he had her arrested, imprisoned, tortured and eventually executed – sadly an all too common female saintly story - forced marriage was something that many faced. Later stories say that before this she had taken food by night to other Christians in hiding in the catacombs, wearing a candle on her head so that her hands were free to carry it. Her story spread northwards from her Mediterranean home and especially caught on in Sweden and other Nordic countries. Her feast day - December 13 – was the mid-winter Solstice before the calendar reforms of the 17th century, and that story of her candlelit visits to the catacombs made her an obvious figure for a festival of light, especially in dark, Northern latitudes. On this day, in Swedish speaking communities, young girls dressed as St Lucy, in white robes and red sashes – the symbols of martyrdom – process through streets and churches and homes singing, and - terrifyingly, in my opinion - they do all this wearing crowns of candles on their heads. For younger children, the candles are battery operated, but older girls are expected to wear the real thing. I can hardly bear to think about the risk assessment!

 

Like all our Advent and Christmas light customs, St Lucy’s day underlines just how much light matters to us. Whether we believe she wore candles on her head to visit those in hiding, the symbolism is powerful. Just imagine what it would have been like to see that light come towards you through the darkness, if you were sitting there afraid for your life. It wouldn’t just have been the candle flame that made the difference, but the light of kindness and courage which shone from her. You would never forget it.

 

Lucy’s story reminds us of all those who’ve discovered the light of Christ in their own lives, and then borne it for others. Even if we don’t believe her story is literal truth, there were many other early Christian women whose stories were similar, and many since, whose lives have been lit up by knowing how Jesus had treated women, as individuals with hopes and dreams of their own, included and honoured in his mission. Women have found strength and dignity in that, and the courage to resist forced marriage and the other pressures of their society, to live their own lives, fulfil their own callings.

 

Men as well as women, of course, have discovered the light of Christ shining in their lives, showing them new ways to live, inspiring and comforting them, giving them new purpose, no matter who they are, how humble their background, what they have done or what has been done to them. As Isaiah put it in our first reading, they have found in Jesus the one who brings “good news to the oppressed, binds up the broken-hearted, proclaims liberty to the prisoners”. It has happened to them. They know it’s true.

 

Like John the Baptist in our Gospel story, those whose lives have been lit up by Christ know that they themselves are not the light. I am not the light. You are not the light. And thank goodness for that. We can’t save the world - we can’t even save ourselves – but we don’t have to do so. The candles we light at Advent don’t just burst into flame by themselves. The fire has to be brought to them from elsewhere. The fairy lights don’t glow on their own – they have to be connected to a power source. But when they are, they can transform everything around them, just as we all can – “you in your small corner, and I in mine” as the old children’s song puts it.

 

John the Baptist and St Lucy discovered the light of Christ for themselves, and they carried that light to others, lighting up their lives too, and they call us to be light-bearers as well.

If we’re going to do that, though, we first need to know what the light of Christ looks like in our own lives, what difference he makes to us. We can’t bear witness to something unless we know what it is. We can’t bring light to others unless we have found out what it means for us. So, what does Christ mean to us? How does faith bring light to our lives? There’s no stock answer to that. It’s different for everyone, but something has drawn each of us to pray, to worship, to read the Bible, to wonder about Jesus. Something in these things enriches us, intrigues us, changes us, inspires us to love and serve others, brings us peace or maybe shakes us out of our complacency. If it didn’t we wouldn’t be here now, listening to this. Something in the Christian story enlightens us.  Just as a traveller lost in a dark place might head towards the glow of a distant lighted window, knowing that there would be at least a possibility of finding help there, we’re called first to notice the light that has drawn our attention to Christ.

 

Then, having found our light, we can share it with others. We don’t need to know any fancy theological words to do this, and we certainly don’t need, thank God, to wear crowns of burning candles on our heads! Bearing the light is really just a matter of naming that light in our lives, and living as if it matters. We may not think our faith is anything special. It may feel very feeble or tentative, but the light we’ve found might be just the light that someone else is desperately looking for, like the candle flame that shone through the darkness of the catacombs as Lucy made her way to her friends there. And if we don’t share it, maybe no one else will.

 

So, as we look at the lights around us lighting up this dark Advent, may we find and name the light in us, so that when the fairy lights and candles are packed away, we’re still shining, and bearing Christ’s light for others too.

Amen

 



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