A Light Shines on in the Darkness

 

A Greek philosopher and teacher ended a lecture by asking, “Are there any questions?” One student asked, “Dr. Papaderos, what is the meaning of life?” Some laughter followed, and some started to leave, but the professor held up his hand, saw that the question was meant as a serious one, and said, “I will answer your question.”

 

Then taking out his wallet, he fished out a very small, round mirror, about the size of a quarter. Then he said, “When I was a child, during the war, we were poor and lived in a remote village. One day, on the road, I found several broken pieces of a mirror from a wrecked German motorcycle. I tried to find all the pieces and put them back together, but it was not possible, so I kept only the largest piece. This one. And by scratching it on a stone I made it round.

 

“I began to play with it as a toy and became fascinated by the fact that I could reflect light into dark places where the sun would never shine—in deep holes and crevices and dark closets. It became a game for me to get light into the most inaccessible places I could find. I kept the little mirror, and as I went about my growing up, I would take it out in idle moments and continue the challenge of the game. As I became a man, I grew to understand that this was not just a child’s game, but a metaphor for what I might do with my life. I came to understand that I am not the light or the source of light. But light—truth, understanding, knowledge—is there, and it will only shine in many dark places if I reflect it.

 

“I am a fragment of a mirror whose whole design and shape I do not know. Nevertheless, with what I have, I can reflect light into the dark places of this world—into the dark places in the hearts of people—and change some things in some people. Perhaps others may see and do likewise. That is what I am about. This is the meaning of my life.

 

In two of our readings today we find biblical characters who lived in dark times. Isaiah the ancient prophet was announcing comfort for his people, who had been defeated and driven into exile, forced to live far from their native land. And John the Baptist started preaching to people at a time when they were being oppressed by the occupying Roman army, being forced to pay tribute in the form of taxes and receiving very little in return.

 

Isaiah and John try to shine light into the darkness of the lives of people they loved. A light that originated in God, and in what God was about to do: in one case, to allow the people to return to their native home from which they had been exiled; and in the other, to announce the coming of a Savior.

 

What I find especially intriguing about the Greek professor’s story was that he was using an object of war—part of a smashed mirror of a German motorcycle—and crafting it into a source of new light. And he saw that as his calling: to acknowledge that there is indeed darkness in the world and in the human heart, but not to be defeated by that darkness. Rather, his job was to allow the light to bring hope, new meaning, compassion, and the enlightenment of faith.

 

The Gospel reading for Christmas Day is the marvelous prologue of the Gospel of John. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came to be through him, and without him nothing came to be. What came to be through him was life, and this life was the light of the human race; the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

 

This was the message of Isaiah, and John the Baptist, and the Greek professor. And now, the message is handed over to us. We are called to be messengers of light, proclaiming that, no matter how dark our world may be, with all the wars, all the violence, all the hatred and division, all the political corruption, all the oppression and greed: in the midst of all that, there is light. We did not create the light, but we are called to reflect it, to bring it into the little nooks and crannies where we live, with the conviction: “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

 

Let’s not sit in the dark. Let’s not be afraid of the dark. Let’s not be overpowered by the dark. Jesus Christ, the mighty one proclaimed by the Baptist, is real; he lives in us; we are his servants. And we dare to believe and to proclaim to all the frightened hearts of our world: “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness will not overcome it.”

You might also like

Father's Homilies

By Charlene Currie December 17, 2025
Is It Right?
By Charlene Currie December 4, 2025
How Far Do You Want to Go?
By Charlene Currie November 28, 2025
Prairie Chickens and Eagles Homily for the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe November 23, 2025 An American Indian tells about a brave who found an eagle’s egg and put it into the nest of a prairie chicken. The eaglet hatched with the brood of chicks and grew up with them. All its life the changeling eagle, thinking it was a prairie chicken, did what the other prairie chickens did. It scratched in the dirt for seeds and insects to eat. It clucked and cackled. And it flew in a brief thrashing of wings and flurry of feathers no more than a few feet off the ground. After all, that’s how prairie chickens were supposed to fly. Years passed, and the changeling grew very old. One day it saw a magnificent bird soaring far above in the cloudless sky. Hanging with graceful majesty on the powerful wind currents, it soared with scarcely a beat of its strong golden wings. “What a beautiful bird!” said the changeling eagle to its neighbor. “What is it?” “That’s an eagle—the chief of the birds,” the neighbor clucked. “But don’t give it a second thought. You could never be like him.” So, the changeling eagle never gave it another thought. And it died thinking it was a prairie chicken. Today, we are celebrating the fact that Jesus Christ is the King of all God’s creation. And yet, it is strange that the gospel passage chosen for this feast is the scene of Jesus’ crucifixion. Notice how weak he is. Consider how he is laughed at and made fun of. “He saved others, let him save himself if he is the chosen one, the Christ of God….If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself.” So, the problem is one of expectations. The bystanders were looking for an eagle, and all they saw before them was a prairie chicken! And yet, at the end of the gospel, this prairie chicken seems to have some power that prairie chickens don’t normally have. When Jesus is asked by the thief being crucified with him, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom,” Jesus replies, “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” Hardly a promise that could be made by a prairie chicken! What’s going on here? I’d like to refer us to a passage we find in the writings of St. Paul, a section of his letter to the Philippians that is the second reading on Palm Sunday, when we reflect on the crucifixion of Jesus. Here it is: “Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness; and found human in appearance, he humbled himself, becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Because of this, God greatly exalted him and bestowed on him the name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” Jesus taught the way of humility and service. He came to raise others up, especially those who were bowed down by poverty or prejudice. He taught that there was no greater love than to lay down one’s life for the love of others. Greatness is found not in building oneself up at the expense of others, but in building up others, especially those who need it the most. So, Jesus emptied himself, to the point of looking like a prairie chicken, and in doing so he showed us the way to the eternal kingdom by means of humble service, that we might become who we truly are, eagles destined to soar beyond the clouds.