Logo Saint Chrysostom's Episcopal Church
At the Heart of the City of Chicago
EventsScheduleMinistryVisitorsMembers
DirectoryResources12 Step ProgramsNewsletterGuided TourHistoryAbout Us
    
Homepage >> Ministry >> Worship And Music >> Sermons >> The Tall Tree Shining in the Light

The Tall Tree Shining in the Light

Late one night last week, I looked out the window of our apartment that overlooks the courtyard and I called to my wife, “Eve, come look at the tree.” The tall Christmas tree in the courtyard was covered with snow, and in the dark night the small white lights lit up the fresh white snow against the dark green of the fir tree. The snow covered Christmas tree was shining gently in the darkness.

and the glory of the Lord shone around them (Luke 2:9)  

How I love the tall fir trees – Sarah Orne Jewett’s pointed firs of the Maine coast and islands – tall trees pointed indeed, as elegant as a Wren church spire. Christmas trees remind me of Maine and of the great forests stretching across our country – the heavy smell of the pine trees on a hot summer’s day in Colorado or New Mexico. And in the fall the great trees turn color, not the firs, of course, but others – a stand of golden Aspen in New Mexico, or the cottonwoods along the Chama River, or a tall maple tree in New England turned gold and filled with brilliant sunlight – radiant like our Christmas tree outside.   

Jesus on the mountain, shining in the light

the glory of the Lord shone around them

Matthew, Mark and Luke all three tell a great story of the shining glory of the Lord, the story that one day Jesus took three of his closest disciples with him on a mountain climb. We are not sure which mountain, although Mark sets the story in the north of Israel, so a candidate is Mount Hermon, rising nine thousand feet, which is not very high in Colorado where you begin a mile high, but in the Middle East so close to the coast you begin at sea level, then nine thousand feet is a lot. In the unfolding Gospel story, we are told Jesus made this mountain climb just at the time he had decided to head south to the city of Jerusalem. His disciples were uncomfortable with the idea. He almost certainly would be arrested. The Romans made no secret of what they did to subject peoples who rocked the boat. But Jesus would not run away. If it was Mount Hermon Jesus climbed that day, and if it was before the journey down to Jerusalem which would end at the Passover (about the time of our Easters), then the climb was almost surely in winter, and the upper reaches of the mountain would have been covered with snow. I drove up the mountain twenty years ago, and there was a ski lift up near the summit. There would have been a long, hard climb, and then the brilliant sunshine of the summit: the brilliant Mediterranean sunshine; the sun of Albert Camus’ North Africa; the light of Socrates and Plato; the light of Isaiah.

Luke (from whom we read tonight) tells us Jesus went up the mountain to pray, and while he was praying “the appearance of his face changed.”  His face was radiant with light, so radiant it seemed his clothes were shining. Mark says Jesus was transfigured (the Greek word is metamorphosis). Jesus shone, like a great tree in the light, like the light off the snow, radiant in the light. The disciples saw, and we see, in the words of the familiar old carol we sing after Communion, “radiant beams from thy holy face” (Silent Night, Hymn 111).

I believe his face shone with the light of the love between the One he called abba, Father and Jesus, the love at the heart of God the Trinity, the love which is the very nature of God the Trinity. The title “father” does not mean God is male – both male and female are created in the image and likeness of God. Jesus took this word, from the Jewish tradition, and also, as that tradition had done from everyday life to be a sign, just as Jesus took bread and wine to be a sign.

“I am the gate”

The Son of God took on our flesh – came into flesh, was incarnate, into carne, into the flesh and blood and spirit and soul that are human life – in order to bring us into Jesus’ relationship with the One he called Father, the relationship at the heart of who God the Trinity is. The unique Son of God became flesh and blood, born tonight in Bethlehem, in order to make us children of God, daughters and sons. “I am the gate for the sheep” he would say (John 10:7), the door, the way in. Jesus saves us from being on the other side of the door. In very real, human flesh and blood, he went through the things that cut us off from God – suffering and death, and the darkness and the consequences of evil – to bring us through them, through the door, the way in, the way.

Jesus invites us to share in his prayer

Jesus invites us to share in his prayer. This invitation is not a vague “you must come sometime” sort of invitation. It is an invitation in this hour, here and now. The invitation is made specific and concrete in two simple ways Jesus gives us of sharing his prayer – not the only way of sharing his prayer, but the gifts given in this hour, as his gifts, to bring us into his greatest gift, through the gate, through the door. Jesus gives us the Lord’s Prayer which we say in a few minutes, and the Eucharist, the Great Thanksgiving, a prayer addressed to the Father, in Jesus’ Name, by him and with him and in him.

Jesus invites us to come, to trust we have a place at his table – it is his, he is host – to trust we are loved by God, and to return that love. God will always give us, at his altar, the love to give. For love is both virtue and gift, something we choose to do and sometimes have to make heroic and sacrificial choices, and if you think you can love someone truly and deeply, as a lover or parent or friend without sacrifice, well, you have something to learn about life. Love is a virtue and it is also, in a great mystery, a gift: the gift of being loved – may God give us the gift of wisdom to see that and open our eyes to see that – and the gift given by God just as much to return that love.

“Come here Eve, look out the window.” I have been catching sight of the tree covered with snow in the light all week, from my office, from the apartment, from inside the church. 

and the glory of the Lord shone around them (Luke 2:9)

In John’s Gospel, the hour of glory is the hour when Jesus laid down his life in love for us on the cross. God’s very nature is self-giving love, and we see that in all its glory when we see him make the full act of love, laying down his life on the cross. Jesus did not run away. Jesus faced what came in love, and offered his very life in love.

And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory... (John 1:14)

The Eucharist is the memory of his one offering on the cross, but it is not only a memory. For Jesus, risen from the dead, lives at the heart of God the Trinity, and eternally offers his love to the One he called Father.

Jesus calls us – it is the heart of our vocation to discipleship – to join with him in offering our love to God, here in the Eucharist, so we pray in a few minutes, “Unite us to your Son in his sacrifice.”

God sends us out from the Christmas altar

And then God sends us out from the Christmas altar, to bring God’s greatest gift, the love and compassion of Jesus, to other people: to those we love; to our children; to friends; to those in any human need – in loving, servant ministry, to heal and teach and make something beautiful, in acts of servant ministry that are great – making a world-class hospital happen, saving a life, making a great orchestra happen. Or, in the eyes of the world, much smaller things: helping a former convict make a new life; making a meal for a neighbor who could use one; helping someone get a job; visiting someone sick; welcoming a stranger to this altar – not such little things after all. My favorite novel of C. S. Lewis is The Great Divorce. Borrowing an image from Dante, in heaven the redeemed, some of whom were little people in the eyes of the world, are very big, like mountains in Dante. Just so, a very small action such as cooking a meal may, if we are given the eyes to see it, be like a tall tree radiant in light, for all acts of loving, servant ministry are all of a piece on the way of Jesus’ discipleship, on his way of self-giving love, the way of glory. That in sometimes very dark and unlikely and lonely places there will be a moment of light, a moment of glory.

May God give you a glimpse of the glory of God’s love for you in this hour, in this season.

Merry Christmas!

(This sermon was preached by the Rev. Raymond Webster, Rector, in St. Chrysostom’s Church, Chicago, Illinois, on Monday, December 24, 2007, The Eve of the Nativity of Our Lord.)


Copyright 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007 Saint Chrysostom's Episcopal Church.
Telephone the church: 1-312-944-1083

Contact The Webmaster