According to an old saying it is always darkest just before the dawn. That is scant comfort to those still stumbling in the dark. It could easily become just another of the many superficial clichés that bombard us from every direction. But clichés have a long life because they are based on truth.
The prophecy from Isaiah was given to the people of Israel after their return from the Babylonian exile in the mid-sixth century B.C. The inflated expectations and giddy excitement had all passed and they were faced with a grim fact: their country, temple and way of life lay in ruins, and all attempts at restoration were for the most part of limited success. In the texts written during this period one can almost feel the pessimism, gloom and on the part of some, even indifference. The prophecy contrasted the swirling darkness with the brilliant light and joyful atmosphere that was on the horizon. Everything negative would be transformed into its opposite.
It was a message of hope but far more than that, for there was also a profound spiritual lesson. Don’t judge by the immediate appearances or experience — these are only a portion of the big picture. The ways in which God will use individuals and nations to fashion the world and its future are not always immediately apparent. Israel still had a glorious future ahead, one in which her light would shine before the whole world. Since God is light and love, how can God will anything else for humanity? The darkness that we may experience from time to time seems overwhelming but is temporary. As we look around in the many dark valleys that seem to be the human experience in the present, we might resolve not to be swallowed up in them. Patience, perseverance and commitment are essential.
We might ask why the inclusion of the gentiles was kept under wraps for so many centuries. Why the secrecy? To borrow from the lingo of the intelligence community, God’s plans were on a strict need-to-know basis. God revealed this part of the divine plan when people were ready to understand and accept it. The concept of "inclusion" with regard to God is difficult for many to accept in all of its aspects and to date we have not wholly succeeded. Although we might assent to the notion, there is still a tendency to inwardly set conditions and make lists of those to be excluded. The idea of owning or controlling God dies very hard indeed.
Matthew’s story of the Nativity of Jesus brings together so many of the prophetic currents. There was the same age-old tug of war between light and darkness, hope and fear. The light indeed entered the world, and when it did, borders and labels counted for little. The light was first recognized by a delegation of magi or priests of Zoroaster from lands of the east — followers of other traditions and creeds. The magi embarked on a long and perilous journey in order to worship the king of kings and to bestow upon Him fitting honour. But just as the light is a cause of joy and hope to some, it generates fear and hatred in others. The mad ruler Herod the Great was threatened by what he perceived to be a challenge to his power. Herod — the ruler of Judea — was ironically himself ruled by fear, and throughout his grim and bloody life this fear destroyed everyone deemed to be a threat. He attempted to manipulate and trick the magi into revealing where Jesus was born for one purpose — to kill Him.
The same fear of change, loss of power and humiliation lies at the root of much of our violence and division and is a factor in our ongoing culture wars. Perhaps we can follow the example of the magi by reverencing and serving the light without attempting to label, define or control it. If we raise our eyes above our immediate situation we might perceive a star on the horizon that has never stopped leading and guiding humanity — at least those with an open heart and eyes to see.