“Through the Cracks” (2 Corinthians 4:3-6)

“Light” is a powerful metaphor within the Christian faith.  The word “light” occurs on the very first and last pages of the scriptures . . . and more than 250 times in between.  It was the first thing created when “God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.” (Genesis 1:3)  Light has always been seen as good . . . as the truth . . . as a virtue; whereas, darkness has been seen as the opposite of all that light represents.  The Christmas story is announced with “light”.  And, Jesus himself proclaims himself to be the “light” and available to all when he says: “I am the light of the world.  Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” (John 8:12)

Thus it should come as no surprise that the Apostle Paul picks up on this metaphor of “light” when he is addressing the followers in Corinth.  In this second letter to the Corinthians there is a rift between Paul and his relationship with the church there.  It seems as if some members of the church had made strong attacks against Paul, but in his response he shows his deep longing for reconciliation and later shows great joy when that reconciliation is achieved.  But, in the beginning of the letter, he defends himself as one who preaches Jesus Christ as Lord while making himself a servant for Jesus’ sake.  It is here that he invokes the metaphor of “light”: “For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.”  In the apostle’s mind and heart it is his calling . . . his ministry . . . to let the “light” shine so that all might see.

Who among us has not felt hurt and abandoned when unfair and untrue accusations have been thrown at us?  Have we not wanted to defend ourselves . . . have we not wanted to hurt those who have hurt us?  You bet we have; thus, it is, how remarkable Paul’s second letter is to the followers in Corinth in which he seeks reconciliation while still ministering to those who have hurt him.  It is out of his woundedness that Paul allows the “light” to shine out for others to see.

One of my favorite writers is Father Henri Nouwen.  The first book of his I ever read was The Wounded Healer: Ministry in Contemporary Society . . . I would recommend that everyone read this book.  In this book, and I simplify it here, Nouwen argues that ministry--real ministry--can only be achieved once we as followers of Jesus can accept the fact that we are all wounded.  Only after accepting the fact that we are wounded can we begin to help others . . . to ministers to others.  He writes: “Nobody escapes being wounded. We are all wounded people, whether physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually. The main question is not, 'How can we hide our wounds?' so we don't have to be embarrassed, but 'How can we put our woundedness in the service of others?' When our wounds cease to be a source of shame, and become a source of healing, we have become wounded healers.”

Paul, in his second letter to the Corinthians, is a wounded healer.

Nouwen suggests that we all must become wounded healers . . . like Paul . . . like Jesus.  That is how the “light” is shared . . . that is how the light gets in.  It gets in through the cracks.

In his song, Anthem, Leonard Cohen wrote these words:

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in

It is a song about hope in darkness.  Cohen, who did not like explaining his music, actually shared his thoughts about the meaning behind this song:  “The future is no excuse for an abdication of your own personal responsibilities towards yourself and your job and your love. “Ring the bells that still can ring”: they’re few and far between but you can find them.

This situation does not admit of solution of perfection. This is not the place where you make things perfect, neither in your marriage, nor in your work, nor anything, nor your love of God, nor your love of family or country. The thing is imperfect.

And worse, there is a crack in everything that you can put together: Physical objects, mental objects, constructions of any kind. But that’s where the light gets in, and that’s where the resurrection is and that’s where the return, that’s where the repentance is. It is with the confrontation, with the brokenness of things.”

Through our woundedness the “light” enters us . . . through our woundedness the “light” is shared.  Through the cracks.

We are all wounded.  We do not leave this life without having been wounded in some shape or form . . . physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually.  We all have our wounds.  All of us.  And, unfortunately we live in a society in which the wounded are considered less than perfect . . . not ideal . . . not the image we want others to see . . . seen as a weakness . . . something that is less than.  We see our woundedness as something to be ashamed of . . . something to be embarrassed about . . . something that we should hide from others.  And, when we do, the “light” cannot come in, nor can it go out.

The Apostle Paul recognized the strength of this fragileness, and it is through his wounds . . . the cracks in his life . . . that he best served Jesus.  If we go on beyond where we stopped in our reading this morning, I think we can see his recognition in this woundedness.  Paul writes in verses seven through ten: “But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.  We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.  We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may be revealed in our body.”

It is through our wounds . . . our cracks . . . that God has most often come into our lives; and, it is through our wounds, our cracks, that we have most often allowed the “light” to shine out to others.  It is in our woundedness that ministry takes places within ourselves and with others . . . in the brokenness of things.

Jesus gave to us a simple command . . . to love the Lord completely, and to love others as we love ourselves.  We probably do a pretty good job with the first part of this command, and we probably need to work on the second part a little harder.  And, in order to do that, we have to learn to love ourselves . . . to love ourselves for who we are . . . wounds and all.  If we can learn to love ourselves for who we are--wounds and all, we can begin to love others for who they are.  If we can do this, then we can let the “light” shine through us for others to see.

There is strength in our wounds . . . in our cracks.  Jesus showed us the way.  Thus it is that we should realize that “there is a crack, a crack in everything . . . that is how the light gets in” . . . and, how the light is shared.  Amen. 

“This Little Light of Mine” (2 Corinthians 4:3-6)

Traditionally this is Transfiguration Sunday . . . the gospel reading for this day focuses on the meeting on the mountain between Elijah, Moses, and Jesus in which Jesus was transfigured.  “Transfigured” means “to change the appearance of something or someone” . . . in this case Jesus we are told that not only his clothing changed, but also his physical features—in particular, his face—to a dazzling white.  The writer of the Gospel of Mark states, “. . . and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them.”  Over in the Gospel of Matthew the writer remarks, “There he was transfigured before them.  His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white the light.”  In Luke’s Gospel the writer tells us, “As he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became as bright as a flash of lightning.”  It sounds as if Jesus got all shiny and bright.

In this moment the “holy” is revealed . . . the “holy” is exposed . . . and it shines like a bright, blinding light that radiates forth out of Jesus’ being.  The light shines and all see.  So often the “holy” is symbolized by “light”.  In the writings and stories of the mystics and religious, the “holy” is the “light” that breaks the darkness.  In many gospel hymns, it is always the darkest before the light of the dawn breaks through.  In looking at many of the paintings and artwork of Jesus, what is it that we see radiating from the image of Jesus . . . what is that aura that surrounds him?  It is light.  “Light” symbolizes the “holy”.

It is a “light” that is in all of us.

The Apostle Paul tells us: “For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.”  In other words, this “holiness” . . . this “light” . . . is within all of us as the followers of Jesus.  And, because this “light”—this “holiness”, is within us, it is our responsibility and calling to let it shine.

In my mind I picture ourselves like a lantern.  When lighting a lantern we begin with a small flame at the base of the lamp . . . a small, flickering flame that doesn’t put much light out.  By turning the wick up, making it bigger, it produces more light . . . it reveals much more . . . it allows us to see.  That is what we are called to do with this little light of faith that is seeded within each and every one of us as the followers of Jesus.  We are to shine.

Remember the story in the Gospel of Matthew (22:36-40) when Jesus gets asked the question: “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”  Remember how Jesus responded?  Jesus said: “’Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’  This is the first and greatest commandment.  And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’  All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

We are to let our “light” shine . . . this little “light” that is within each and every one of us. 

So, we begin with ourselves.  We begin with our own faith.  We begin with our own relationship with God.  We are called upon to turn up the wick.  We are to turn up the light within us until it transforms . . . changes us . . . and makes us into who God created us to be as God’s children.  As Jesus stated, “This is the first and greatest commandment.”

In the Transfiguration Story, we are given a glimpse of what could be.  In Paul’s words he pulls back the curtains and allows us a glimpse of what can be.  There is hope . . . there is potential . . . and, there is opportunity.  It is no surprise that these are among the “holy” words that are shared this morning in our worship service . . . this possibility of transformation and change.  We are on the brink of moving from one season of the church year into another . . . from the revelation of God being available to all through God’s desire to be in relationship with all of God’s creation to a season in which the faithful followers of Jesus are called upon to examine their lives and grow closer in their personal relationships with God. We move from Epiphany to Lent . . . from revelation to examination.  From “I really, really like this God that is revealed” to “what do I have to do to make it happen?”

We are on the nexus from here to there, and there is hope.

We begin with ourselves.  We begin with our relationship with God.  We examine, discern, and pray . . . and, then, we do it a little more.  We explore our relationship with God: Is it what I want it to be?  Am I living a relationship that brings me closer and deeper with God?  Are God and I “tight” in our relationship, or are we just casual acquaintances?  Am I building a roaring fire of faith, or am I just fanning the wick to barely keep it burning?  We work on building our relationship with God “with all our hearts and with all our souls and with all our minds.”  We learn to love God and to love ourselves.

That is the only place that we can begin.  We begin where we are.  Until we can learn to love God and ourselves, we can never enter into the second important commandment . . . to “love your neighbor as yourself.”  Only when we build the “light” within ourselves can we ever allow it to shine forth and be seen by others.

On this Transfiguration Sunday we enter into an “opportunity” to work on letting our faith grow and shine in ourselves and the world around us.  We have an opportunity to break the darkness within ourselves and become a beacon in the lives of others.  And, we begin with ourselves. 

As the children’s song goes:

This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine

Every day, every day, I’m going let my little light shine

Let us go forth and let our lights shine.  Amen.