Saturday, April 11, 2015

Christmas Eve, 2014 - Flesh in the Darkness

Flesh in the darkness.

Is there anything more vulnerable than flesh in the darkness?

Human bodies are so frail, when you think about it. Skin is easily pierced, organs are easily bruised, bones are too easily broken. Our skeletons do a poor job of protecting our insides ––everything important is more-or-less exposed. Our flesh is soft and squishy and open to injury more easily than we like to consider. Human bodies have no innate protection against being abused, or tortured, or choked, or shot. Our flesh is vulnerable.

Our hearts are frail, too. Our literal hearts, yes, but I mean our metaphorical hearts––the home of our emotional well-being and our sense of self-worth and our identity. Our hearts are easily pierced, easily bruised, easily broken. Our hearts do a poor job of protecting our emotional insides––everything important is more-or-less exposed. Our emotional well-being and self-worth is open to injury more easily than we like to consider. Human hearts have no innate protection against being bullied, or betrayed, or abandoned, or rejected. Our hearts are vulnerable.

And in the darkness is when we become most aware of that. The darkness is where we feel the most at-risk. In the middle of the night, our bodies and our hearts seem the most open to injury. We cannot see to protect our flesh––there is not enough light to know what is coming. There is not enough warmth to shelter our hearts. The people of Israel, after a terrible invasion, were living in a “land of deep darkness.” The sheep near Bethlehem were open to attack by predators and so the shepherds “were keeping watch over their flock by night.” Joseph and the very pregnant Mary, the epitome of fleshy vulnerability, were traveling and seeking shelter at night. In the darkness we become excruciatingly aware––terrified, even, as the shepherds were––of how vulnerable our hearts are. Of how vulnerable our flesh is.

And yet in the midst of this flesh in the darkness, we hear the words, “Do not be afraid, I am bringing you good news of great joy.” Because, at those times when we lie awake and fearful, God became flesh in the darkness. Collapsing every single moment of darkness into one single night, God voluntarily took on the vulnerability of human flesh and human heart, “and the word became flesh and lived among us.” The great Creator of the world, our God, who manipulated matter and dark matter into a universe, who established the flow of time, who caused our DNA to dance into being, this God set all of that power aside––all of that invulnerable power––and voluntarily took on the vulnerable flesh of a baby born to a vulnerable Jewish people, to a woman away from home and in a city with no family. God took on the vulnerable flesh of Jesus of Nazareth, and came into our world as a baby. And a light was kindled in the darkness.

And this baby flesh grew, and his body grew bigger and stronger, and his heart grew more aware and more open to others. And so God came to know what it is to be truly human. God voluntarily opened up his body to the vulnerability of physical trials - to beatings and whippings and being pierced by nails. And God in Jesus voluntarily opened up his heart to the vulnerability that comes from loving others - to abandonment and betrayal and rejection. Jesus––Emmanuel––God-with-us––was born into our darkness so that God might enter into the vulnerabilities of our existence. So that God might experience the pain we do, so that God might experience what it is to be afraid in the darkness.

God experienced it, and then God transformed it. God transformed our vulnerability from something to be afraid of to that which makes us who we are. God-in-Jesus lived out for us that embracing our vulnerability leads us to a deeper love for those around us. Love your neighbour as yourself. Love others as God loves you. Love as a vulnerable person, one who is open to being hurt, and love the vulnerable.

It is not easy to open one’s self up to being vulnerable at Christmas. It can be hard to expose one’s insides to others, it can be hard to reveal all of our frailties and insufficiencies. We have all been hurt often enough to want to hide our shortcomings from those who can hurt us. But living a vulnerable life means being open and honest about who we are, which includes our mistakes and our imperfections. Living in vulnerable love means risking constant injury––to our bodies and to our hearts.  The hardest thing about being human, what God came to experience personally in Jesus Christ, is accepting and living out the truth that we are flesh in the darkness and that we can be hurt and that we are called to risk injury in order to love other vulnerable people, so that God’s light might grow in their darkness.


In this night of deepest darkness, God accepted and entered into our vulnerability. By coming into the world as Jesus, God took on what it is to be human, and risked everything in order to be vulnerable with us. Because of Jesus, God already knows your mistakes and your imperfections and your frailties. God knows your shortcomings, and God, who in Jesus Christ is Emmanuel, God-with-us, is with you. When you are open about your mistakes, God, in Jesus Christ Emmanuel, is with you. When you confess when your shortcomings hurt others, God, in Jesus Christ Emmanuel, is with you. When you acknowledge when others hurt you, God, in Jesus Christ Emmanuel, is with you. When you live as flesh in the darkness, God, in Jesus Christ Emmanuel, is light for you. God is come. Christ is born. “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.” Thanks be to God. Amen.

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