A Light in the Window

A Sermon Given to Madison Baptist Church

April 8, 2018

By Stephanie Little Coyne

Children are amazing. They’re honest, sometimes brutally honest, they see things for what they are, and, when adults don’t get in the way, they live freely and unencumbered. 

As our own years go by, it becomes harder and harder to remember what it was like to be a child—to be naïve! I am a minister of youth and children because I believe in sharing lessons of faith. I am also a minister of youth and children because they teach me how to express the joy of faith in my daily life.

I know that I am able to minister because of the people in this congregation who have said that our youth and children are important to AND an important part of this church. These people show their love for God by loving on our children. They cook, clean, rock, play piano, comfort, wrangle, teach, build, play, and they demonstrate the sacred acts of Christianity. Thank you, volunteers and thank you, Children’s Ministry Team.  

After seminary, I worked as a hospice chaplain in an inpatient unit. Inpatients are used for patients whose pain is not manageable at home, whose caregivers need respite, or who are too medically fragile to be transported anywhere else.

Regardless of the reason, these people are not at home, and customs, traditions, and surroundings are unfamiliar. Our staff worked as hard as we could to make sure religious practices were kept.

An older Jewish lady was one of those patients. Her family asked that if she were to die when they were not present, that we please place a lit candle in the window. The symbol of the light was to let passers by know that a spirit was moving to heaven.

Many Jewish traditions incorporate the use of light and candle burning in their rituals. Candles represent the sanctity of a place, a time, or of certain events. In the temple, a Temple menorah sits in front of the Ark, representing the presence of the Eternal One.

According to Rabbi Bradley Artson, each candle also represents “the shining light within each human being: ‘the human soul is the lamp of G-d.’ The light of God’s love, justice, and concern can only illumine the world through the individual light that we shine through our deeds, our communities, and through our performance of commandments.”

Irish Catholics, persecuted by the British Protestants for hundreds of years, placed a single candle in the windows of their homes. This light was a signal to Catholic priests that the home would be a safe place for them.

On Christmas Eve, the youngest female—a symbol of Mary, the mother of Jesus—would light this single candle, often a red candle, which not only signaled safety for priests, it also invited them to come in, lead Mass, and share sacraments with the family.

The light in the window also invited inside people who were in need. The belief of the Irish Catholics was that no one should go hungry or be without a safe place to stay, particularly on Christmas Eve.

In our own Christian tradition, we use candles to signify safe and sacred space. Lights signifies that holy ground lies beneath our feet. A candle is often lit at the beginning of a time of prayer, when people of God gather to share personal struggles and joys. The candle’s presence announces that the prayers expressed will be held by all members of the group.

Northern families often place a light in their window during bad storms to let burdened, weary, or stranded travelers know that they may seek shelter in their homes.

The American spiritual, “Keep Your Lamps, Trimmed and Burning,” was sung among slaves as a warning signal, or to secretly share that an escape was being planned for that evening.

Another spiritual, “This Little Light of Mine,” reminds us all to be a light to the world around us—to not let anyone or anything put it out!—to let it shine…

Robert Alden is quoted as saying, “There is not enough darkness in all the world to put out the light of even one small candle.”

In the story of the Prodigal Son, in Luke, chapter 15, I wonder if this young man felt as though the darkness was overtaking him. Did he long for the welcoming light of a candle? Certainly, many of us can identify with this son—we too have experienced dark, hopeless nights.

This chapter in Luke begins with quite a set-up! “Jesus was becoming popular with sinners!” The Pharisees begin to grumble again, so Jesus starts teaching with a series of three parables.

In the first story, a shepherd searches for a helpless animal, his sheep.

In the second story, a woman searches for a lost coin, an inanimate object, incapable of movement or feeling.

The third story is a much more descriptive. There are multiple characters, people with feelings and actions—and the interplay between them is intense.

Another difference is that the “lost” object, the son, is also the “seeker.” But he is not trying to find a sheep or a coin. He is seeking a different life, a life which is without his father’s guidance or rules; a life full of freedom; a life full of choices.

As he tells this story, Jesus never says anything about the father seeking his son. He lets him go. He even gives him his share of the estate. The father does not know if his son will ever return.

Did he begin the ritual of mourning? Did he place a candle in the window to signal the loss of a family member? Surely, he was grieved by both his son’s selfishness and his absence. 

The Prodigal Son leaves his home because he wants life to be different and he believes that on his own, it will be better. However, as we know, he turns out to be a terrible money manager, he makes poor choices, he begs for money and food, and all that he receives is a meal alongside pigs. The son longs to be at home with his father, even if it means losing his prior status as a successor—a leader—of the estate.

So, he makes the choice to go home and beg of his father. He knows that life will be different, and he hopes that it will be better.

Much has been made of these three parables. Many commentaries have been written about the Prodigal son and his family—father and brother included.

But as I read this passage this time, I began thinking of what the Prodigal’s home must have been like. The placement of home against “not home,” mirrors the distinction between good and “not good,” and to merge these scripture passages from today, of light paralleled with darkness.

A description of the Creation story says that God brought about light, but stopped before it overtook the darkness.* In the author’s reading of Genesis, God chose to leave darkness behind. All would not be illumined; all would not be revealed. God created us with the decision to choose light or to choose darkness, to choose good or “not good.”

Every day, we go into the world that is full of “different”—different cultures, different senses, different feelings. The world is full of lovely situations, of acts of kindness, of collaborative learning experiences, and God looks upon those moments and declares them to be good.

But we know that violence and wickedness and hate also abound from people who have chosen the “not good” and we know that God is grieved in those situations. At times, we have found our own selves eating and living among swine.

On this earth, how are we to promote the Light? How are we to promote the good?

What would a candle in the window our homes signify? Safety? Giving? Forgiving? Would it signify a separation of light from darkness?

As I considered these questions for myself, a mother of two and a minister of children, what would a light in my house signify?

Are we, the people of God, sharing any light at all?

When our children come home, are they greeted with an extension of the world? When they cross the threshold, are they greeted by peace? 

As fathers and mothers, grandparents, and guardians, are the homes we provide our children a place where they can distinguish their home from the rest of the world? Or are they exposed to more violence, more hate-language, more love of money and material goods?

Do we talk to them about the differences between society’s expectation of us versus God’s expectation of us?

Do our children see us offering our home and our plentitude of goods to our neighbors?

What does it say about our faith when we post pictures of ourselves and our children at a church event long before we discuss the meaning behind those events, or the lessons given in worship?

Do we loose from our lips angry words against our neighbor or do we voice our love for God, for neighbor, and for ourselves? 

Even though we are imperfect and rely daily on God’s grace, are we not called to do and be better? To pursue God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven?

And lastly, and perhaps the hardest of all, do we, if our children are as the prodigal, do we let them go, believing in the seeking nature of Christ, our Lord?

Will they long for home, knowing that life will be better? Will they fear rebuke in their return or will they hope for joyous reunion?

How will they understand God’s love and light and forgiveness if they are never exposed to it in our Christian homes?

These things I know: 

God’s word is a lamp, a light.

The true light, which enlightens everyone, has come to our world and that light of Christ resides in us.

This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. My children, all of you, deserve nothing less. Amen.