Christmas Eve — Where Darkness Itself Shines

A homecoming for the homeless — those outside, overlooked, or alone.

Dear friends —

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“In the tender compassion of our God the dawn from on high shall break upon us,
to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.” — (Luke 1:78-79)

Today’s Readings

Christmas Eve is my favorite day of the year.

It carries a sacred blend of hope, anticipation, and nostalgia.

As a young man, I began a tradition of slipping into the Cathedral of the Incarnation in Nashville alone for Midnight Mass — a practice I’ve kept for twenty years.

It’s taken a long time to know why I chose to do that, but two decades later, it’s become clear to me — I’ve been trying to find my home, and in the sacred feast on that holy night, I experienced a foretaste of the eternal home.

Near the end of Home Alone, there’s a scene of young Kevin wandering in the cold, peering through a window at a warm holiday gathering.

The sadness is palpable. You can feel Kevin’s pain deep in your bones.

To me, this day belongs to him and everyone like him. Christmas Eve is a day meant to give a home to all of us who sometimes feel homeless or alone.

Each Christmas Eve morning, I revisit the Gospel accounts of Jesus’s birth.

They unfold against a backdrop of war, oppression, and suffering — a sobering reminder that the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Yet into that darkness came God’s promise expressed by Zachariah in today’s Gospel: “to shine on those who dwell in darkness and in the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.” (Luke 1:79)

One vivid memory from the recent pandemic stands out. In those bleak days, people around the world hung their Christmas lights early and left them glowing long after Christmas.

It was almost a prayer — an unspoken plea for light and joy to linger amid darkness and sadness.

At Midnight Mass, the Gospel of John begins: “the light shines in the darkness.”

A few years ago, I noticed that John doesn’t say the light shines into the darkness, as if from outside — it shines in the midst of it.

That revelation dawned on me: perhaps even the darkness itself can shine.

Most theologians say that’s a stretch, but I find deep meaning in it — especially today.

We don’t need to fumble for flashlights; even our darkness, embraced in faith, can become a quiet light leading us home.

To everyone feeling isolated or without a home: today is your day.

Christ comes for you — the forgotten and the broken — and invites us to align our lives and our society with that mission of mercy.

Today is our invitation to stop running. God is pitching a tent among and sharing in our lot right here and now.

As your fellow pilgrim — another Kevin out in the cold searching for his way home — know that you are in my heart today. Together, we are sojourners led by the Christ-child, whose coming into our midst tonight guides us home.