The Light of Christ
The Rev. Canon George M. Maxwell, Jr.
The Cathedral of St. Philip
Atlanta, Georgia
05 May 2005
Ascension Day – Year A
“All the darkness in the world cannot put out the light of a single candle”
These words appear on the tombstone of a woman who died in a neighborhood near Emmaus House several years ago. *1/ She had been born in the neighborhood to an alcoholic who often forgot to wash and feed her, but was adopted by a loving family who raised her with their three other daughters. She had gone off to college and then come back home to earn a living for herself and help the children, the homeless and the needy who lived there. She was a home-grown symbol of success and care in a world that desperately needs such symbols.
The woman was brutally murdered by a crack addict. The addict broke into her home one night, tied her up, left to buy drugs with the things he had stolen, and then returned later to rape and strangle her. There was no dispute about what had been done or who had done it. He pled guilty to the crime at trial. The prosecutors asked for the death penalty, and even the addict thought that he deserved to die for what he had done.
The crime shattered the neighborhood and years later you can still feel the anguish caused by such a loss. For most of us, it doesn’t take too much imagination to feel the anger and desire for revenge that must have come with such anguish. There are some acts so revolting that they seem to define the persons who commit them. They don’t really even seem like people any more.
Yet, the woman’s step father, Hector Black, felt something else. During the sentencing phase of the trial, Hector read a prepared statement to the court that distinguished between what had been done and who had done it. Hector finished his statement by turning to look his daughter’s murderer in the eye and asking God to grant peace to everyone who had been wounded by the murder – including the murderer.
And Hector didn’t stop there. He was able to overcome his own hate for the murderer and began to write to the man in prison. Hector told the man that he had a reason to live. Hector told him that, even in prison, he could become a peacemaker -- a light in dark surroundings.
And the man, remembering the look in Hector’s eyes at the trial, began to write back and to look for ways to be the peacemaker that Hector described. As Hector gave up hating the man, the man gave up hating himself. As Hector found the strength to see the image of God in the man, the man found the strength to see the image of God in himself. With Hector’s help, the man found a life within himself.
I never met Hector, but I think about him on Ascension Day. I don’t know that I am strong enough to do what he did, but I do know that what he did was become the instrument for the life-giving power of our risen Lord. He found the strength and courage to be the light that the darkness could not put out.
The power of this light is the power ascribed by the psalms to the Messiah who would be King. This is the power described by Paul as accorded to the one who sits at the right hand of God. This is the power of heaven over earth.
These images, however, sometimes cause us to confuse this power with control. We think of the kind of power that allows us to make others do what we want them to do. We think of the kind of power that corrupts and all too often relies on fear and deceit to defeat its challengers. We think of the kind of power that we might want to use, but never want to have used against us.
Just listen to the tone of voice the next time someone asks “Who made you King?”
The power of Christ, however, creates freedom, not control. It is the kind of power that liberates people to act for themselves. It is the kind of power that relies on transparency to gain the trust and respect of its challengers. It is the kind of power that we are sometimes afraid to use, but always hope will be used for us.
Just listen to the tone of voice the next time someone says, “You saved my life!”
The power of Christ, in other words, is a life-giving exchange. Those exercising it give life to others by freeing them to recognize the life that already exists in them. This is the power of the light that darkness cannot put out.
And this life-giving exchange is what animates the church to become the Body of Christ on earth. I know of no other social institution whose professed purpose is to bring people together. Our mission is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ. And, as Hector understood, that means that we are called into relationship with each other – even those we have reason to hate. We are called to shed light on the life that we all share in common.
I’ll never forget hearing a local Episcopal priest lament after meeting a visitor who seemed intent on criticizing everything about the church, “Oh, please don’t come here because then I’ll have to love you.”
Being in relationship with others, of course, means being willing to be with them where they are. And often we don’t even get to choose where that will be. To empower the sick and imprisoned requires us to visit those who are sick and those who imprisoned. To empower the hungry and thirsty requires us to go to the hungry with food and to the thirsty with drink.
But, it is the power of these relationships – the refusal to be alienated from each other -- that leads to our salvation. It is in the exercise of this power that we find life in ourselves by freeing others find life in themselves. It is in the exercise of this power that Christ raises us up to sit with him at the right hand of God. It is in the exercise of this power that we participate in the life of God.
It is because of this power that all the darkness in the world cannot put out the light of a single candle.
AMEN.
1/ An wonderfully written account of this story appears as Chapter 10, “Loving the Monster,” in Field Notes on the Compassionate Life: A Search for the Soul of Kindness (Holtzbrinck Publishers, 2005), by Marc Ian Barasch. Quotations attributed to Hector Black have been taken from this account. Copies of this book are available for purchase in the Cathedral Bookstore.
Comments? Contact George Maxwell at: GMaxwell@stphilipscathedral.org