I want to tell you a story that happened many years ago when I was a student. My seminary was in a former Cistercian monastery, which laid beautifully and stunningly among meadows, forests and hills. Although it laid on a main road it was quite hard to get there or to leave the place. I was part of a retreat team mainly consisting of young lay people. Once after a retreat I was asked to give a lift to two members of the group. Their destination was over 20 miles away – not a very long distance, if you have an efficient car. But I didn’t. I had only a very small car: it seemed quiet to me, because as I drove I plugged my ears with my knees. My car’s engine was just about as powerful as a lawnmower. To get the car going I had to bump start it on a slope. The road to their destination was also very interesting. For the first 8 miles and the last 4 miles it ran along the busiest routes in that part of Poland. But the bit in between ran along empty local tracks.
We left the seminary before twilight. The first part of our journey passed by easily – except for our uncomfortable positions in the car. But when I got to the empty local tracks in the middle of our journey it started to rain. So, obviously, I switched on the wipers. Precisely at that moment the engine stopped. We were in the middle of a forest; the road was deserted and, try as I might, I couldn’t restart the engine. So, my passengers got out and pushed the car so that I could start the engine. As the engine roared into life my two passengers got back in. I switched on the wipers. The engine died instantly. Ah, now I knew: I could use the engine or the wipers, but not both of them at the same time. So out they got to push the car until it started. Then we were in business again. Only without working wipers. Eventually we got to our destination as darkness fell.
The father of my passengers offered us a mug of hot tea. While we drunk it he checked the car and found the problem with the battery. So he decided to re-charge it. It seemed to help. About one hour later I left the house full of hope that the car had been fixed. But my hope was in vain. After only a few miles the engine started coughing. But by now I was back on the quiet, deserted road. Rapidly I turned off the lights and the engine kept going! But I still had 16 miles to go – with no lights in complete darkness. But all was not lost: there was snow lying along the road and in the moonlight I could make out the road. I was saved! I know what you’re thinking. It’s not clever to drive a car without lights, just looking at the road in the light of the moon. But I was young, desperate and stupid. Now I am no longer young.
Tonight’s first reading speaks about darkness and light. Let me read a short part of it again: “the people that walked in darkness has seen a great light; on those who live in a land of deep shadow a light has shone”. The text says about a light shining in the dark and about the light of men. The common element is the light. The light shines above the land and above the people. The light is a fact, it exists. But it is up to each of us to recognize and accept the light. Sometimes we need to switch off our own “lights” in order to see God’s light. It’s not a blinding spotlight. It’s subtle. It does not impose itself. We could easily miss it. Christmas reminds us that God has given us the only light that we actually need. Our lives are about recognizing the light and accepting it. If Christmas makes sense for you then when you meet other people they will see the gleam of God’s light in your eyes.