A Light in the Dark

The sermon preached by Fr. Ernie on April, 30, 2023.

A Light in the Dark

by Ernest Boyer

At the core of today’s readings is a very simple message. It’s this: follow Jesus and you will never get lost. You’ll be safe. I don’t know about you, but I find that message so reassuring.

Have you ever been lost? By lost, I don’t mean just temporarily turned-around. No, I mean really lost. I mean lost as in all alone and thoroughly disoriented on a dark, deserted dead-end street with no one to ask and nowhere to turn — that kind of lost. Have you ever been lost like that? I have, and it’s scary — really scary.

This was years ago when my children were small. What happened was this. I had a day off and so I decided it would be nice to take my young family for a day in the woods. We lived in central Maine at the time, and the woods were deep, stretching hundreds of miles. In retrospect, I can’t quite believe that I set out on such an adventure with children as young as they were then. We had three by that time. The oldest was five. It was true that we were going to a popular state park that everyone said had well marked trails that made for an easy family hike, but of course there is really no such thing as “easy” with very small children. And yet it wasn’t the kids that were the problem that day. It was the trails themselves.

For one thing we got there much later than we had hoped. We had planned to arrive by noon, but as always, it took us so much longer than expected to get the three small children ready that we didn’t actually get to the park until after 3:00 o’clock. But it was beautiful afternoon in early Fall so we hardly noticed the slight chill in the air or the fact that the light had already begun to fade.

As we examined the map at the park entrance, we saw that there were far more trails than we had been led to believe, but we choose the one that looked the easiest, a simple loop that should get us back to the park entrance long before the sun began to set. This optimism was our first mistake. Our second mistake was our reliance on the park directions. This involved following a series of written instructions such as “turn left at the fork near the fallen tree.”  The thing is, there had been a storm several weeks earlier and there were many fallen trees. This and other things quickly made it clear that the instructions were very much out of date. Nothing we read fit what we were seeing. We took turn after turn growing more and more confused until I suddenly became aware of just how close the sun now was to the horizon.

         I stopped.

         “Isn’t this great?” I said with all the enthusiasm I could muster. I didn’t want to frighten the kids. “Ok. It’s time to turn back now.”

The fact was, the children were having a wonderful time. They seemed to be completely unaware of the mumbled whispers that had begun to pass between my wife and me. The truth was, turning back was an act of desperation. As I said, the path we chose had been loop. Or it should have been. But something was very wrong. We should have been back at the entrance long ago.

We tried to retrace our steps through what we now knew to be a maze of interconnecting trails. We came to fork after fork. Each time I chose the option that seemed the most traveled and so — I hoped — the one most likely to take us back, and yet as the trails proceeded they grew increasingly narrow, more and more overgrown.  By now the children had grown quiet.

         “It’s really getting dark, isn’t Dad,” my son Nathan said. Nathan is the oldest and always the most serious.”

         “It is, but we’re fine, Nathan,” I said.

         “It’s like we’re going into a cave, isn’t Dad.” This was from my second son, Gabriel. He was clearly enjoying this. Gabriel has always lived his life as if everything was a series of fantasy adventures. He still does. He’s currently living in Northern India teaching English to Tibetan monks.

It grew darker and darker. Soon we were picking our way between bushes, over roots, and around trees. At last I stopped and looked around. I couldn’t pretend any longer. The path had entirely vanished. Trees and bushes completely surrounded us. And not only that. By now the light had all but disappeared. Only the faintest gray still lingered in the sky.

I glanced at my wife. She held my gaze, silently asking what we were to do now.

“Guess what, guys,” I said, turning to the three little boys standing around me and pumping my voice with as enthusiasm as I could, “We get to sleep in the woods tonight!”

“Oh boy!” Gabriel shouted.

“We’re lost, aren’t we dad,” Nathan whispered, staring at me.

“For now,” I whispered back. “We’ll get back in the morning.”

“It’s like we’re cavemen,” Gabriel said. “I’m going to make a spear. Do you think we’ll see any animals, Dad? I bet we will. Maybe we’ll see a bear and I can use my spear. …”

As Gabriel continued to describe his heroic battles with one predator after another, I made a quick inventory of the few things we had brought with us. We all had light jackets. Would they be enough if the night grew really cold? Somehow, we’d have to find a way to sleep as closely huddled as possible to preserve warmth. We had brought water, which was good, but food was almost entirely lacking. Just a couple of apples. That would have to be our dinner. I doubted that anyone would notice our abandoned car in the parking lot, and of course, this was long before cell phones, so this was it. We were in for a long, hard night.

I sighed and looked up. As I did, something suddenly caught my attention. Was it a light? Could that possibly be a light? I stared through the trees. It was. It was a light, a single point of precious brilliance.

“Come on,” I said, getting up. “Follow me. I think we’re going home.”

“Noooooo,” Gabriel wailed. “You said we could sleep in the woods tonight.”

Despite his protest, we pushed our way through the underbrush, working steadily toward the unwavering light. A quarter of an hour later we broke out of the woods and found ourselves standing suddenly on a paved road. Just across the street was a small house with its porch light on. This was the light I had followed.

The elderly couple who lived there were surprised to find a ragged little family on their doorstep. They had no idea that simply by switching on their porchlight they had given us a beacon. They had given us a way out. They had saved us. They brought us inside, then generously offered to drive us back to our car. Ever since then I do all I can to never get lost. That’s why I find today’s Gospel so reassuring.

This is especially true since, as Jesus says, there are so many trying to lead us astray. That was true then. It may be even more true now. First, there are those who try to convince us that the world is made of nothing but matter. For them, love is nothing but hormones and God is a delusion. This is bad, but even worse are those who call themselves Christians but preach a message that is the very opposite of everything Jesus taught.

Take Christian Nationalism for example. This has only appeared in recent years but its roots go deep. Christian Nationalism joins the racism of the white supremacy with a near idolatrous worship of guns. It then adds this to a warped patriotism and a superficial dedication to Christ that somehow manages to reject everything that Jesus taught and calls it all Christianity. These are not people, in my opinion, who are “listening to Jesus’ voice,” as it says in today’s gospel. They are rather those who have been seduced by the ones Jesus calls the thieves who come “only to steal and kill and destroy.” Jesus is right. These dangers are real. Many, many people in our country have fallen prey to both of these false prophets. They’ve become lost. They are wandering through a dark forest, confused and disoriented, following one false lead after another, going more and more astray.

They desperately need to find the light that will show them the way out.  

I believe that we ourselves can provide that light. That’s what the earliest Christians did. Look how today’s reading from Acts describes those early Christians. According to the book of Acts, the first Christians …

had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple …[they broke bread] and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number …

Christian Nationalists hate this passage. For one thing, it sounds just a little much too much like communism. Furthermore, these Christians did not amass an arsenal of swords and spears the way Christian Nationalists amass guns. Instead, they helped people — all people, not only those of their own tribe or race. These people did hear Jesus’ voice, and because of that the church grew and grew as more and more of the lost found their way there.

And you know what I thought of when I read that description? I thought of us. I thought of St. Stephen’s. Maybe we don’t actually have all things in common, but we do share with all in need and distribute goods to those without. And many of us do spend day after day together at church and break bread together with glad hearts, praising God and having goodwill for all people. So, you see, I believe we truly do offer a light to the lost. Like that elderly couple who provided my little family and me with a beacon simply by switching on their porchlight, we are a beacon too. Perhaps we should become more conscious of that fact.

I can’t tell you what relief I felt when I first saw that light in the woods. I just couldn’t believe it was there. It had simply been waiting quietly for anyone in need, and it saved us. We’re sending out a light too. I think we need to be clear about that and do it more consciously. In addition to providing spiritual nourishment to those who are already here, we are also sending out a beacon to others, offering safety and comfort to all those looking for love and support and meaning in life. We are so blessed here. Together, we hear Jesus voice, and he keeps us safe. Now we just have to find the others who need that too. AMEN.

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