Lighthouse (sermon draft 1/27/08)

Have you ever “walked in darkness?” I mean literally. Who here has ever walked a good distance in the pitch black of night? How was it? Scary? Dangerous? Challenging, to say the least. I walked in the darkness one memorable time. Let me tell you about it.

It was 1978, I was a freshman at the State University of NY, college at Purchase—up near White Plains in Westchester county. I had gone there after my first summer as a counselor at Camp Trexler, also in NY.

Fall and winter passed, and spring found me not enjoying college too much. I liked the classes and college life, but I felt directionless—like I didn’t know what I was there for. So, when I heard of a work weekend to be held at camp in April, I was all too ready to get away from school. I even talked my friend, Paul, into coming with me. So, we were set to go.

The problem was, how? Paul lived in NYC and his family didn’t even have a car, and I didn’t have one either. Finally we talked a guy from down the hall into giving us a ride—but there was a catch. He would give us said ride an his way home to Poughkeepsie, and so as to not go out of his way too much, the deal was he’d drop us off at the Bear Mountain Bridge and we’d find alternate transportation for the final thirty or so miles to camp. (Don’t you try this, kids—and don’t tell my mother!)

So, that Saturday morning we packed up and headed out. The weather was good, thank God, so when we were dropped off, at least we weren’t these two pathetic wet water rats thumbing a ride at the Bear Mt. Circle (a circle is the NY equivalent of a rotary). And as luck would have it, the first car that drove up stopped to pick us up. Plus, wonder of all wonders, it turns out I knew the girls in the car—one of them being from my home church and a counselor at Trexler’s sister camp. They were going camping for the weekend at Island Pond, just up the Nurian Trail from my camp. So they gave us a ride right to Trexler before heading up into the woods.

Well, we worked hard all the day long and on our free time Paul and I and two other counselors (my friends from home Rich and Pete—remember I talked about him once before) decided to go up the trail and hang out with the girls. Which we did, until about 10-11 pm. At which point we got up to leave, but discovered one small problem. Seasoned veteran counselors that we were, not one of us had thought to bring a flashlight with us. And it was dark!

Do you think the girls were nice and lent us one of theirs? Wrong! They had none either! (It’s a wonder people even sent their kids to these camps!) So, after much conferring and arguing about the relative brightness of moonlight versus starlight, we made the best decision. We’d walk it in the dark!

I wouldn’t recommend this as a fun activity. Fortunately, the trail back from Island Pond starts out on a fire road—nearly impossible to wander off from, if still laden with rocks and roots to trip one up. The first test was finding the Nurian Trail where it intersected with the fire road. Luckily there was a white trail blaze on a tree to mark the spot. Unluckily, it took several passes before one of us saw it in the dark. Here another decision had to be made. Long way down the fire road to Rt. 210 and the camp road and home? Or straight shot down the mountain to camp on the now invisible Nurian Trail—which by the way crossed over some cliffs about halfway down. We made the best decision possible—we turned onto the trail.

After that, basically it was blindly stumbling from blaze to blaze, trying to stay on the compacted soil of the trail by our sense of touch. Hoping we’d find the cliffs before they found us. It was a nightmare, unforgettably scary, and when the lights of camp came into view some hours later—it was a bunch of happy campers who laid eyes on them!

The passage from Isaiah in today’s lectionary doesn’t use the word “darkness” literally. This is not about people who forgot their torches. The background is that Northern Israel has been defeated by her Assyrian enemies, is destroyed and in disarray. The prophet wisely likens their present situation to “walking in darkness.” They are confused, demoralized, and scared. Like people fumbling about in the dark. And not for just a while—they live in this darkness, 24/7. We here in northern climes understand the ramifications of being deprived of light. It’s not only debilitating—it’s downright deadly in some cases. So, imagine living in a land of deep darkness—a deep darkness of the soul. Where there’s no relief, and no hope.

Enter the prophet Isaiah with a message from God: there is hope. A light will shine on them. God will remain true to his promises and turn their abject darkness into glorious light. The ascendance of a king of David’s royal lineage is implied—it is he who will light their way on the path to a restored and revivified nation.

Isaiah was probably talking about King Hezekiah, whom the book of Kings tells us was totally faithful to God—obeying all his ordinances and reforming the temple. And the author of the gospel of Matthew likely knew that. But his job was to present the story of Jesus—who he was, what he did, and why he did it—within the framework of the Judaic scriptures. In other words, Matthew looks back on the whole Jesus “event,” and interprets it with the help of God’s word as it existed then.

So, while Matthew knows that Isaiah’s prophecy is ancient history, he uses that history in a new way to explain the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. Now, is this passage in Isaiah about a king of Israel, Hezekiah? Yes. Is it also about Jesus of Nazareth, the Messiah? Yes again. It’s about both.

Matthew takes his cue in this scripture from geography. What he has is a Messiah from Galilee, a place that’s not exactly Messiah-producing material. Jerusalem would be better. But knowing that Zebulun and Naphtali are in the region of Galilee, and knowing his scripture, Matthew uses this passage from Isaiah to explain the significance of Jesus’ geographic heritage. A light was to come from the northern regions of Israel, from Galilee—that’s Jesus! Prophecy fulfilled! The people who sat in darkness, who sat in the shadow of death (that is, the people of Israel languishing in sin), they have seen a great light—Jesus Christ.

Now, just as Matthew returns to scripture to interpret his present day experience of Jesus, forging a new meaning from the old that stands besides it, not replaces it—in that same way we can use the gospel to interpret who Jesus is for us today. As long as we’re careful to hold the old and the new up together. What does this recycled passage from Isaiah say to us about God today? First and foremost, it says in our darkness—whatever that might be—shame and guilt from sin, sickness, unemployment, addiction, or even something less dramatic like boredom, doubt, or dissatisfaction with how things are going—whatever our darkness is, there is hope because there is a light. A light sent to you. A light that will guide you out of the darkness and into the dawn of a new life. It’s like being on the Nurian Trail at midnight in pitch black and suddenly the sun comes up!

Now let me shift gears a bit. I spent 8 of the past 10 years in Maine, so I know that the three things Maine is most known for are its: 1. Lobsters, 2. Moose, and 3. Lighthouses. Maine has got some pretty picturesque lighthouses. But they weren’t built for their aesthetic beauty. And they weren’t put there as tourist traps—although they do a fine job of that. Lighthouses have one purpose—and that is to save lives by guiding ships in the darkness. And they do that by shining their light out into the world.

Well, like I said, I spent 8 years in Maine so I hope you might excuse me when I tell you that the first time I saw Messiah Lutheran Church the first thing I noticed was what I guess you call the cupola. But to my Mainer eyes it wasn’t a cupola—it was a lighthouse! And imagine my delight when I found out it lit up at night!

Because I really think that is an apt symbol for the church today—the church is a lighthouse—saving lives by shining the light into the world, guiding those lost in darkness to a place of peace and forgiveness and community and safety. The church is a lighthouse and Messiah has got one right up there on the roof.

The question begged therefore is this, I think—what can we be doing as lighthouse keepers to insure that our light is achieving its purpose? I’m going to give you three to think about.

First and foremost, we need to keep the light lit. A light hidden under a basket do no one any good, and neither does a light that goes out due to neglect. There are people out there in the darkness who need this light. A lighthouse keepers number one job is seeing to it that the light is shining!

So, we need to keep ourselves in spiritual shape so that the light of Christ shines not only on us but through us. You do that by making Jesus a priority in your life. By attending worship—regularly. By joining with God’s people in the study of God’s word—that adult forum should be overflowing each Sunday. Each of us has answered Jesus’ call to follow him. We need to get up off our spiritual duffs and do that. To keep the lamp lit you need a.) fire – which comes to us via the Holy spirit at baptism, and b. you need fuel. We get fueled up here on gospel power—the power of God for the salvation of the world!

Second, we need to shine the light out into the world. Now, sometimes that means finding needs in the community and filling them if we can. So that when people think of Messiah Lutheran Church they say, “Oh that’s the church with the blood drive.” That’s a light that attracts. Sometimes, however, shining the light of Christ into the darkness repels. But we shouldn’t be shy about speaking out in the world when what society does goes counter to God’s word. (And how do we determine that something’s against God’s word? We study it in community.) We must remember however to balance the foghorn of law with the light of grace—to warn, but also to offer forgiveness.

Third, we need to be ready to take in those who are attracted by the light of Christ. We need to be welcoming beyond the pleasantries of social grace, and be welcoming into a new world order where the radical inclusiveness of God’s grace is known and modeled.

In other words, we fish for people—but when they get in the boat we can’t just leave them out of their element, gasping for life in a new environment. We need to partner with visitors and new members, and use the light to show them the way so that they’re not stumbling around “in the dark.” We need to be intentional about explaining things not everyone can be expected to know—like “who is this Marge person who’s always mentioned,” and “where is this narthex they keep talking about,” and “what page is the kyrie on, and for that matter what is a kyrie,” and “what do all these initials stand for - ELW, ELCA, GNIFHN, is it some sort of Lutheran shorthand for text messaging,” and most of all “why all this hubbub about flamingoes?” We need to invite people to be involved and share their ideas for ministry. We need to care for them, just as we do for each other. And we need to follow the light together towards a promised future and transformed present. That’s a good part of our jobs as lighthouse keepers.

Now, you might ask, “How can we learn to do these things better, Pastor Tom?” I’m glad you asked. Because this Saturday coming up—February 2^nd right here at Messiah Lutheran Church there is going to be a workshop on welcoming visitors and assimilating new members led by the pastor of one of the fastest growing churches in New England and featuring stories from members of other growing churches. I think it is important that we not only host that event, but we also be represented there. So important, that I will pay your workshop fee if you sign up right after church. Now I’m cheap—so you can assume this is real important. Alright? End of commercial.

And end of sermon, except to say that it can still be a pretty dark and scary world out there, and pretty dark and scary in our hearts as well. We have experienced the light shining in the darkness of our lives and our sinfulness with hope and forgiveness. Now Jesus calls us to turn from ourselves and teach and proclaim the good news to others. To focus his light on the world, and bring his people home safely. May God’s hand be on us as we do. Amen