Sermons from Mission Hills United Church of Christ San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr Christmas Eve 2021 “One Candle” I have a story to tell tonight. A true story that doesn’t take place at Christmas or even among Christians, but during the holy season of Ramadan among Muslims in the Sudan.[1] At the time of this story, the Sudan was so dangerous you needed a permit to leave the capital city of Khartoum. Even so, there was a teacher who would regularly load 20 students at a time onto the back of a flatbed truck to take his classes on multi-day trips into the desert. Travel outside the city was not only dangerous because of violence. Constantly shifting sands in the desert made it nearly impossible to maintain roads. And whenever sand covered up the road, sometimes for miles at a time, they had to trust their instincts. They didn’t have GPS or cell phone service. Long after they had last driven on an actual section of road, rumors began to spread among the students that they were lost, and when dusk came, sure enough, the driver admitted it. Don’t ask me why, but he insisted they had to keep moving on. Why not wait for daylight, I don’t know. During the holy month of Ramadan, observant Muslims don’t eat or drink anything between sunrise and sunset, including water. When the sun had completely set, it was time for the students to break their fast. Except, it wasn’t supposed to take so long to get to their destination so no one thought to bring anything with them to eat or drink. It would be at their destination. As they kept moving forward, their headlights stretched out for miles into an empty desert. And just then, just when they were feeling most desperate, most hopeless… they hit a rock. Some wires were torn and now the headlights didn’t work. There was a thick layer of clouds that night, so there were no stars or moon in the sky. They were traveling in total darkness. One person walked ahead of the truck, leading the way, and another stood in the back scanning over the cab as far as they could see. Wandering in the dark hour after hour, they started to lose hope. They knew what happens to people lost in the desert. It wasn’t good. And then one of the students in the back of the truck said “Hey! Isn’t that a light?” Everyone was excited. But no one else saw anything. They all squinted until someone said, “It’s just your imagination.” But this student insisted – “There! On the horizon. I think. Well, maybe…” With no better option, the guide directed the man in front of the truck toward the only light at least one person saw. She kept saying, “It’s over there. No over there.” But it was clear that it really was only her imagination. If the light had been real, it would have gotten larger as they got closer. It was just a mirage. But they had no better option, so they kept moving the only direction someone thought there might be something. After a long while someone else said they thought maybe they saw something too. And after a while, another person, until everyone saw it. You know what it was? A candle. One candle. It was a Bedouin camp, nomads who live in tents in the desert. One of the Bedouins couldn’t sleep. She came out of her tent, propped a crate on its side and dripped some wax on it to hold a candle upright. That was it. It was impossible that anyone could have seen the light of only one candle from miles away. But still, one student saw it. And dared to say something. That’s all they had to go on. One candle from miles away. It’s absurd. Until you realize, absurd or not, this is a true story. And it saved them. A stranger who couldn’t sleep and a student who dared to speak up. Oh, and by the way, they arrived just before dawn. The awakened Bedouins emerged from their tents with food and water. Just in time. If they arrived any later, they would have had to wait a whole other day to eat or drink. It may not be a Christmas story or a Christian story, but it still teaches that in the darkest part of the night, the light of one candle makes a difference. In fact, did you realize that it’s in the deepest night that light shines brightest. That’s true in our personal lives too. Light shines brightest during our loneliest and most frightened times. But sometimes we can’t see it. We have to trust the person who points to what we can’t yet see. Tonight, it makes me think of the impossibly dark night of our country. Our hopes of finally emerging from this pandemic keep getting extinguished. It’s even more important that we light a candle for hope. It makes a difference. And in the midst of a country consumed with anger toward each other, that feels like we’re on the brink of war, we light a candle for peace. It makes a difference. And though for many the holidays are painful reminders of loss, we light a candle for joy. It makes a difference. And because even one candle makes a difference for people who feel excluded or told, “you don’t belong,” we light a candle for love. It’s not silly or ridiculous or absurd. It’s the one thing that saved those students lost in the desert. And it’s one way you can change the world for someone. Just light one candle for them. Or yourself. Light always shines brightest in the darkest part of night. We can be that light of Christ for someone. In fact, you are that light of Christ. Believe it. And then, are you willing to share it? [1] Story adapted from “A Great Light” by Rev. Angela C. Menke
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