In a speech which JRR Tolkien gave at Oxford University in 1955, he apologized for its tardiness, saying that what had hindered him was “the long delayed appearance of a large ‘work,’ if it can be called that which contains … much of what I personally have received from the study of things Celtic.” This large work was, as you might expect, The Lord of the Rings. In this Christmas posting of Celtic Crossings, I offer what has been for me a defining, symbolic moment from this epic work. This small band of distinctly different compatriots who comprise the fellowship of the ring are set to leave the land of Lothlorien to continue their journey. It is then that the elfen Queen Galadriel gives gifts to each man, and to Frodo she gives a phial of light. W
ith this gift she says, “Let this light be for you a light in dark places; let it be a light for you when all other lights fail.” It was a gift, a light which he would need before the journey was over. I think about this episode in The Lord of the Rings frequently, particularly in this season of gift-giving. It reminds me of the importance of giving the things that others need rather than giving only those things they tell us they want.
So what then is this Christmas Light? It is generally considered that bright star that guided the wise men to the place where Jesus had been born. In reality, it is more of an Epiphany symbol than a Christmas symbol, but nonetheless one of the things we associate with the Christ event. As John Henry Hopkins wrote as the refrain for We Three Kings of Orient Are:
O star of wonder, star of night. Star of royal beauty bright; Westward leading, still proceeding, Guide us to thy perfect light.
It seems to me that the Christmas light is not so much celestial as it is spiritual. We come to church on Christmas because the Christ-light shows us the way, guiding us to his perfect light. While a light is to be seen, it’s purpose is to point beyond itself; a beacon in service to those who need to see where they are going; an indicator of where the safe passage exists. As children of God, we are children of the light; we obtain our light from the one who is the light of the world, and then we are instructed to share that light with those who need to find their way through the doom and gloom of a darkening world.
In one of Robert Fulghum’s earlier books, he tells the story of a man from Crete who through patience and forebearance was a light for the healing of the wounds which war had etched into the people of his country. Talking to the author, he says:
“One day, on the road,” the man began, “I found a piece of mirror from a wrecked German motorcycle … By scratching in on a stone I made it round. I began to play with it as a toy and became fascinated by the fact that I could reflect light into dark places where the sun would never shine … it became a game for me to get light into the most inaccessible places I could find …
As I became a man, I grew to understand that this was not a child’s game, but a metaphor for what I might do with my life. I am a fragment of a mirror who whole design and shape I do not know. Nonetheless, with what I have I reflect light into the dark places of the world – into the black spaces in the hearts of men – and change some things in some people. Perhaps others will see and do likewise …”
And then he took that small mirror, and holding it carefully, caught the bright rays of daylight streaming through the window … and reflected them onto my face.
In this Christmas/Ephphany time, I pray for you the gift of the Christmas light; a light that shines not so much upon you, but as a light that shines through you. Had Frodo not had that light which Galadriel in her wisdom had given him, he would never have completed his journey nor accomplished his mission. Sometimes it is the simplest of objects which reveal the most profound truths, like the mirror in the story above. At this Christmas time, it is not so much that we see the light of that Christmas star, but that we receive that light into our very being. Remember that though the wisemen followed the light of that star to Bethlehem, it was a different light that led them back a different way, that inner light of God's grace. So, as I post this blog on Christmas Eve, may that light be received as a gift to live this life to the fullest; a gift of light for when all the other lights of this world dim and darkness threatens.
ith this gift she says, “Let this light be for you a light in dark places; let it be a light for you when all other lights fail.” It was a gift, a light which he would need before the journey was over. I think about this episode in The Lord of the Rings frequently, particularly in this season of gift-giving. It reminds me of the importance of giving the things that others need rather than giving only those things they tell us they want.So what then is this Christmas Light? It is generally considered that bright star that guided the wise men to the place where Jesus had been born. In reality, it is more of an Epiphany symbol than a Christmas symbol, but nonetheless one of the things we associate with the Christ event. As John Henry Hopkins wrote as the refrain for We Three Kings of Orient Are:
O star of wonder, star of night. Star of royal beauty bright; Westward leading, still proceeding, Guide us to thy perfect light.
It seems to me that the Christmas light is not so much celestial as it is spiritual. We come to church on Christmas because the Christ-light shows us the way, guiding us to his perfect light. While a light is to be seen, it’s purpose is to point beyond itself; a beacon in service to those who need to see where they are going; an indicator of where the safe passage exists. As children of God, we are children of the light; we obtain our light from the one who is the light of the world, and then we are instructed to share that light with those who need to find their way through the doom and gloom of a darkening world.
In one of Robert Fulghum’s earlier books, he tells the story of a man from Crete who through patience and forebearance was a light for the healing of the wounds which war had etched into the people of his country. Talking to the author, he says:
“One day, on the road,” the man began, “I found a piece of mirror from a wrecked German motorcycle … By scratching in on a stone I made it round. I began to play with it as a toy and became fascinated by the fact that I could reflect light into dark places where the sun would never shine … it became a game for me to get light into the most inaccessible places I could find …
As I became a man, I grew to understand that this was not a child’s game, but a metaphor for what I might do with my life. I am a fragment of a mirror who whole design and shape I do not know. Nonetheless, with what I have I reflect light into the dark places of the world – into the black spaces in the hearts of men – and change some things in some people. Perhaps others will see and do likewise …”
And then he took that small mirror, and holding it carefully, caught the bright rays of daylight streaming through the window … and reflected them onto my face.
In this Christmas/Ephphany time, I pray for you the gift of the Christmas light; a light that shines not so much upon you, but as a light that shines through you. Had Frodo not had that light which Galadriel in her wisdom had given him, he would never have completed his journey nor accomplished his mission. Sometimes it is the simplest of objects which reveal the most profound truths, like the mirror in the story above. At this Christmas time, it is not so much that we see the light of that Christmas star, but that we receive that light into our very being. Remember that though the wisemen followed the light of that star to Bethlehem, it was a different light that led them back a different way, that inner light of God's grace. So, as I post this blog on Christmas Eve, may that light be received as a gift to live this life to the fullest; a gift of light for when all the other lights of this world dim and darkness threatens.
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