From my
house, you can’t see the stars. When I was young, a few of the brightest,
bravest ones shined through a cloudy sky. But now, there are none. Most nights,
I don’t even notice their absence. But
this past summer Lucy and I were reminded of them. While Bethlehem’s sky is
clouded with pollution and street lights, the sky at Camp Lackawanna is much
clearer. For those of you who have not been to Nativity Youth Camp, Camp
Lackawanna is basically in the middle of nowhere. The tranquility and beauty of
the nature surrounding us at camp gives us a sense that we are truly in another
world, isolated from the bustle of society. After a long day of the exciting
activities of camp, Bella and I, along with a few of our closest friends, chose
to take a break from the clamor of the day, and wallow in the stillness of the
night. In an open field to gaze at the stars, we laid side by side on sleeping
bags and warm blankets. For the first
time in a long time, we laid down, relaxed, and looked up. The sky was
overflowing with billions and billions of bright, twinkling stars. It was
breathtaking. To be in a place where you
can’t even see your own hand in front of you, but can still be enamored with
the brilliance radiating above you. To be surrounded by people who accept and
love you for who you are. It is awesome. It is glorious.
In today’s
Gospel, Martha and Mary are devastated by the loss of their brother, Lazarus.
As they grieve, Jesus comes to grieve with them. But some ask “Could not he who
opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?” Even Martha is
distraught, convinced that Lazarus is too far gone for saving. But Jesus says to her “Did I not tell you that if you
believed, you would see the glory of God?” And Jesus brings Lazarus back from
the dead. Jesus unabashedly demonstrates the glory of God. Even more than that,
Jesus is the glory of god, the love of God revealed in the world. The life
Jesus gives to Lazarus is temporary; the light, life, and love Jesus gives to
all of us is eternal. It is awesome.
It is glorious.
Throughout
all of our lives, there are times that we will be devastated. We will grieve,
we will hurt, we will see nothing but darkness. We will struggle to notice any
hope or beauty in this world. But Jesus reminds us: the Glory of God is
ubiquitous and perpetual, if we only care to search for it. Gazing up at the
stars, surrounded by people I love and who love me, my search was easy. How
could I doubt God’s glory in a place of such majesty and a time of such joy? But belief is not always so simple. How can one trust in
God’s glory when a loved one is taken away from them? How can one believe God’s
glory is awesome when one is homeless and struggling for their next meal? When
we are destitute, when we are alone, when our view is clouded by chaos and
evil, we can look for the light that will always be around us. Look at the joy and community of Camp
Lackawanna. Look at the gratitude and compassion here each wintry Thursday
night. Look at the prayer shawls,
knitted by Yarns of Love. Look at the people sitting here, in this holy
space. The Sunday schoolers, the
mentors, the choir, the acolytes, the ushers, the out-of-town relatives, even the strangers. They are stars,
radiating in the night. They are
awesome. They are glorious.
Even on the
nights when we can’t see the stars, we believe that they are still there. They
are still shining on the rest of the world, and they will shine on us once
more. Billions of stars will always be
there, filling up the immense sky that seems to stretch forever. Billions of
stars reminding us of God’s immenseness. His majesty, stretching forever. His
power, which is even greater than death itself. When darkness threatens to swallow all the good in this world, go
outside, relax, and look up. God’s splendor is there. It is awesome. It is
glorious.
AMEN.
