Sermon: In the beginning, God recreated the earth (Jan. 3, 2015)

Christmas 2C

January 3, 2016

John 1:1-18

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Word made flesh, Jesus Christ. Amen.

            Many of you know, my husband loves Star Wars. And so the moment tickets went on sale this fall for Episode VII (30 years after the original trilogy ends), he bought some for the very first showing. Being the dutiful wife that I am, I joined him in dressing in costume, and we went to see The Force Awakens with all the other hardcore fans. I admit, I’m not generally a Star Wars fan (though I have enjoyed getting caught up in the hype), but I have to say, without betraying any major plot points: the movie is really, really good. One thing all the Star Wars movies excel at – and this one is no exception – is portraying the constant and complicated battle between light and dark. We saw it in the originals in Luke’s apparent predisposition to join the Dark Side of the Force, and we saw it with Anakin in the prequels, as he was also tempted by the lure of the power of the Dark Side. In Episode VII, the battle is still present with the latest villain, Kylo Ren, who appears to be facing

the temptation to return to the Light.

There are lots of reasons to love Star Wars, as many have for decades, but one reason for its timelessness, I think, is that the basic plotline is one with which we can all resonate. Whether a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, or right here in the Milky Way in 2016, the battle between light and dark is a constant one. That’s one of the downsides of having free will, you see. From the beginning of time, humans have been faced with the ability to choose, and sometimes we choose light, and sometimes we cannot help but choose dark, and sometimes we can’t tell the difference.

If you refer to Genesis, you can see that the battle began a long time in ago in a galaxy… well, this galaxy, in the Garden of Eden. “In the beginning,” Genesis begins, telling us all about how God created the world, starting with separating the light from the darkness, a separation God deemed “very good.” Finally, God created humans, and with them free will, and from then on God risked the goodness of creation to the whims of humanity. From then on, the separation of light and darkness was not so clear-cut.

            With the fuzzing of that distinction, however, came a depth and richness of experience and emotion. This week I read Grace a story from the book, Does God Have a Big Toe? It is a book of stories about stories in the Bible. The one we read was called “The Tomato Plant.” At the beginning of it, the author comments that in the Garden of Eden, everything was good, and nothing ever died,

but also, nothing was ever born, and so nothing ever changed. One day Adam and Eve notice a tomato plant just outside the Garden wall. It doesn’t look very healthy, not like the tall, lush tomato plants inside the Garden. As time passes, the little tomato plant gets worse and worse, and finally dies. Adam and Eve cry, asking God if they can go take care of the plant. God says of course they can, but if they leave the Garden, they can’t come back. In the first act of compassion, Adam and Eve decide that’s okay, that they would rather care for this tomato plant. And so they do, disregarding the wall previously separating them from the fear and sadness of death. They nurse the plant back to life and health. As they see it slowly start to thrive, they remember also where it was before, and they feel both happy and sad at the same time.

That’s where the story ends – with this complexity of emotion that we feel whenever we exercise that free will God gave us, whenever we make a decision that, even if it is the right, compassionate decision, leaves us feeling so many things at once. That is what happens when light and darkness meet. That is what happens when we experience not only the goodness of creation, but also the amazement of recreation.

            And recreation is what John is getting at when he begins his Gospel with those same words as Genesis: “In the beginning…” When we first heard those words in Genesis, they were exciting, and they were full of goodness and light. Now when we hear them a second time, it is after much more experience – many tomato plants, many deaths and births, many tragedies and resolutions, and even many tragedies without the resolutions we long for. This second time we hear those words, “in the

beginning,” we have a longing for beginnings, for newness, for goodness, because we have seen what a complexity of emotion and experience the world has to offer. The second time we hear those words, the possibility of recreation is life-giving music to our ears, especially in this world in which the sadness, brokenness and death can feel so very overwhelming, and at times, overpowering.

            “In the beginning was the Word,” John says. In Greek, this has many more layers than are apparent in English. Here’s your little lesson in Early Church theology: The word, logos, refers to God’s own wisdom and reason. When God speaks logos onto and into creation, it not only brings life, but also brings knowledge of God into creation – knowledge of God that began in Genesis, and became complete with the coming of Christ. You see, this prologue of John is both John’s version of the Genesis creation story, and Jesus’ birth story. There’s no manger or shepherds or angels in John’s version of the Christmas narrative, but the heart of the story remains that same: in Christ’s birth, God comes to earth, both to know humanity, and to make God’s self known to humanity, to bring a light into the darkness of the world, to mend the world and bring it back to God’s own bosom. In short, God comes in Christ to recreate the world.

            Could this have been such good news back in Genesis 1, before humanity had experienced any dead tomato plants? Maybe, but certainly not as good as it is to us today, as we lament a world full of terrorism, racism, depression, loss, inequality, and injustice. We have seen more than a few dead tomato plants, and though we are finally on the other side of the winter solstice and days are getting longer once again, it still feels like the darkness of the world is trying to win out. It feels like fear is stronger than love, that death is stronger than life, that sadness overcomes joy.

            But God says no, that isn’t true. “In the beginning…” – a new creation. God recreated the world on that dark night in Bethlehem, when the true light, which enlightens everyone, came into the world. And with that birth came the promise to continually recreate, to continually bring light out of

darkness, to bring life out of death.

            At this point, the battle between good and evil has not ceased – there are still Darth Vaders and Kylo Rens, and dying tomato plants, and politicians more interested in money than helping people, and people all over who are ruled and driven by fear instead of love. But there is also redemption. There is also recreation. There is also hope. There is also, always, a light shining in the darkness that cannot be overcome by all that evil. Christ’s birth has given us the courage to cling to that hope, that love shining in the fear, until we find ourselves, finally, basking in the eternal love, light, and grace of God.

            Let us pray… Gracious Light, when the darkness of the world tries to overcome us, keep us fixated on your light and the hope that it brings to our broken world. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.