In the Church of Norway there is a tradition of celebrating a Service of Lights either during or right before advent. We call it lysmesse (“Light Mass”) but I don’t really like that name, as it doesn’t actually (or usually) feature a celebration of the Eucharist, though there is no reason it couldn’t. It may look like a sort of hybrid of the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols and Hanukkah, and the standard is to read seven texts concerning light or Christ (either directly or through prophecy), mostly from the Old Testament, while we light seven candles in a sort of menorah. Usually it involves the confirmands, who read texts and light the candles.
Last Sunday, the 3rd of December, we celebrated it in my parishes, and we did it this way. I introduced the texts. After each introduction we lit a candle, read a text, and sang one verse of the hymn Veni redemptor gentium or Savior of the nations, come. The texts we read, were these:
The oracle of one who hears the words of God, and knows the knowledge of the Most High, who sees the vision of the Almighty, who falls down, but with his eyes uncovered: I see him, but not now; I behold him, but not near—a star shall come out of Jacob, and a sceptre shall rise out of Israel.
May all kings fall down before him, all nations give him service. For he delivers the needy when they call, the poor and those who have no helper. May his name endure for ever, his fame continue as long as the sun.
Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel.
The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined.
But you, O Bethlehem of Ephrathah, who are one of the little clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from of old, from ancient days. And he shall be the one of peace.
For we do not proclaim ourselves; we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord and ourselves as your slaves for Jesus’ sake. For it is the God who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness’, who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.
Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, ‘I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.’
After the readings, I delivered a homily on the nature of light, and now I just want to pick out a few things from that, namely the fact that the light of the sky are all created by God but that they are icons of the one true light, Christ Himself.
Stars are noting compared to Christ, regardless of their size, from our own sun which is approximately 1,39 million kilometers in diameter, to UY Scuty, which is the largest known star with a diameter of approximately 2,37 billion kilometers. Of course size is meaningless here. God is not great because He is really big. A friend of mine once put it this way: There is nothing so large that God is not larger and there’s nothing so small that God is not smaller. God just isn’t part of the universe or of being at all. He is beyond being. But we still use light as a metaphor, because of what light does to us.
Light is paradoxical in a way. It reveals at the same time as it covers. Without light, we see nothing. By it, we see all things. But at the same time, light can be so bright that it blinds us. This is why the authors of Scripture use this metaphor. We are told, for example, that “the Lord is my light and my salvation” (Psalm 27:1) or that “the Lord is God, and he has given us light” (Psalm 118:27). This conjures up images of God providing insight and revelation. We need light to see. But this is also platonic, as we see from Plato’s simile of the Sun. The sun is a natural image of the Good or the One. But, as I said above, light does not just reveal. St. Paul tells us that God, “whom no one has ever seen or can see,” is the One who “dwells in unapproachable light” (1 Timothy 6:16). Light reveals but is also conceals. And that is a paradox which permeates everything in our faith. We get to know God through Christ, yet God remains unknowable. But through this unknowing we are lifted up into His light, we are transformed, and we become lights ourselves, for all the world to see.
Christ said that He is the light of the world. But through Him, He says, we also become the light of the world (Matthew 5:14-16): “You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hidden. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.”
Note that He does not say that we are the lights of the world. No, we are The Light of the world. There is but one true Light but when we are in Christ, we too are this one Light, both on the inside and out. And that is why we celebrate these services of lights every year, to remind ourselves that Christ is The Light and that through Him, we may also be not lights but The Light.
With that, I will end this with a passage that we usually read on Epiphany (year A) but which I find immensely suitable for both advent in general and services of light in particular, Isaiah 60:1-3:
Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. For darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will arise upon you, and his glory will appear over you. Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn.
Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, who was, is, and will remain, one true God, world without end. Amen.