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Fourth Sunday of Lent

Ephesians 5
8 For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light 9 (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth) 10 and find out what pleases the Lord. 11 Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. 12 It is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret. 13 But everything exposed by the light becomes visible—and everything that is illuminated becomes a light. 14 This is why it is said:
“Wake up, sleeper,
rise from the dead,
and Christ will shine on you.”


It’s very humble as tourist attractions go, but folks say it’s still worth a visit.

Over at the Fire Station #6, in Livermore, California, you can stop in and visit the Centennial Bulb. According to Guinness, it’s the oldest lightbulb in the world, burning since 1901. It’s a little dim with age, but still burning, all these years later.

Of course, people ask about the secret of the bulbs longevity, much in the way you would ask a person at 116, and the answer has to do with something that goes by the innocuous name “planned obsolescence.” You know it: it feels like you just bought that dishwasher, and already it’s making strange noises and bits are coming off.

Well, the Centennial Bulb was created to last. Leaving it on helps, they say, because the biggest threat to an incandescent bulb is turning it on and off. And the second biggest threat to an incandescent bulb is inefficiency and waste, unless the bulb is being left on as a museum piece, like the Centennial Bulb.

So having passed through the compact florescent period (ugly light, contains mercury) we have entered the age of the LED. The light is more pleasant (more like an incandescent bulb), the power usage is lower, and the implications are only now coming into view.

You see, nearly two billion people live “off-grid,” something that might sound desirable down at the Cottage Life Show, but is a serious problem in the developing world. People need light, for safely, for comfort, and for learning (if you hope the read at night).

The old bulbs need traditional power, from a diesel powered generator, or from a bank of batteries filed with harmful acid. Failing that, people turn to kerosene lamps, with the fumes, smoke, and the danger of fire. Sam Goldman, a former Peace Corp volunteer saw this first hand in West Africa, when a neighbour suffered serious burns from the household kerosene lamp.*

This started Sam on a quest to find an alternative, and he founded a social enterprise that has since brought light to 65 million people. They started with simple LED lanterns and have since created entire power systems, for radio, cell charging and, of course, a light for each room. And without starting a coffee hour debate, Sam’s company does this using a for-profit model, convinced that investors will see the potential of bringing low cost light to those two billion people.

I share all this because our passage, while seemingly figurative, is also literal:

For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light 9 (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth) 10 and find out what pleases the Lord. 11 Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them.
13 But everything exposed by the light becomes visible—and everything that is illuminated becomes a light.

Until just about 100 years ago—so for the proceeding million years of human consciousness—we lived nearly half our lives in the dark. We learned to sleep through most of it, but the threat of darkness remained. If you were predisposed to making trouble, you soon learned that “fruitless deeds” were best done in darkness.

So light and dark inevitably moved from lived reality to metaphor. “Children of light” lived lives of goodness, righteousness and truth, while those “in darkness” did things “too shameful even to mention.” We follow a Lord who described himself as “the light of the world.” And when God created the heavens and earth the very first words spoken were “let there be light.” God saw that the light was good, and separated the light from the darkness.

Now, metaphors tend to take on a life of their own, and the direction these metaphors go isn’t always helpful. When an seasoned NPR journalist used the phrase “dark continent” a while back, referring to Africa, it caused more than a bit of the controversy. “Political correctness!” some cried, but NPR apologized and acknowledged that the phrase is pejorative, and carries racist overtones. Using darkness as shorthand for “undeveloped” or “primitive” belongs to a colonial past and ought to be set aside.

Back to our passage, it seems to fit in the overall theme of Ephesians, that is ‘how then shall we live?’ Having accepted Christ, and joined a Christian community, how should the believer function in the day-to-day? And Paul gives the first instruction at the beginning of this chapter: “walk in the way of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us.” (5.1)

But that seems more confessional, like the first step a believer might take in this new life with Christ. After the initial excitement of this conversion, what next? How does the average Ephesian follow the way? And this is where ‘goodness, righteousness and truth’ come in. It’s living the spirit of Christ at home, in the marketplace, at work and so on. And it all seems rather straightforward in an encouraging sort of way.

Looking deeper, I wonder if there is some of Paul’s own story in this passage. In our Bible study this week we spend much of our time on Acts 9, the story of Paul’s conversion. Recall that Paul (then known as Saul) is among those persecuting the nascent church, looking for believers to turn in to the authorities. He sent to Damascus, and on the way a bright light and loud voice knocks him to the ground. “Saul, Saul,” the voice says, “why do you persecute me?”
“Who are you, Lord?” Saul asked.
“I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.”

Paul is blinded by the experience, and led into the city to be given to the care of Ananias, who has also had a visit from the risen Christ. Ananias knows of Saul, and his reputation, and is reluctant to help. But the Lord is insistent, and he seeks out the man from Tarsus.

Placing his hands on Saul, he said, “Brother Saul, the Lord—Jesus, who appeared to you on the road as you were coming here—has sent me so that you may see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” 18 Immediately, something like scales fell from Saul’s eyes, and he could see again.

On Thursday, Audrey called this “spiritual blindness,” the implication of the life Paul was living and the very thing Christ heals as the scales fall from his eyes. A flash of light, temporary blindness, and new sight, all in a matter of a few short days.

Back to our passage, I wonder if this experience might explain the fragment of verse we heard, that short poem Paul shares after his meditation on darkness and light:

“Wake up, sleeper,
rise from the dead,
and Christ will shine on you.”

Darkness, spiritual blindness, sleeping, all seem to sum up the life that Saul/Paul was living before he met Christ on the road to Damascus. This little fragment of verse may have been an ancient hymn, or part of a liturgy, or just something Paul sang to himself in the darkness of those days waiting for Ananias.

For Paul, the darkness and the sleeping meant actively tormenting the church, but for others, the people at Ephesus, for example, it was certainly something far more banal. Imagine people going about their lives in the figurative dark, looking after themselves without a thought for others, surrounding themselves with things, generally living in a world of exchange where I will do for others what they first do for me.

I say pick your metaphor, but we seem to be surrounded by people (including ourselves, if we’re honest) who are sleeping, or dwelling in the dark, or spiritually blind to the reality that God sets before us. We don’t have a lock on living in the light, but we do have the lessons and the teacher. We can live it and show it or we can do that other thing Jesus warned us against: hiding our light under a basket.

May we continue to seek the light as the days lengthen and the nights lead us closer to Gethsemane, Calvary and the empty tomb. Amen.

*http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/05/business/smallbusiness/05sbiz.html?_r=0

posted by michael jacob kooiman @ 6:21 AM