Hanukkah / Christmas Sermon

I'd like to start this sermon by talking about rats. Now, I don't mean sewer-dwelling, stinky rats; I'm talking about cute white and hooded rats you find in the pet store, so relax, if you can.

I remember being at the Rennasaince Pleasure Faire about twelve years ago with my girlfriend, Cherissa, the woman who was to be my first wife. There, in line, I saw a guy standing there with a live rate on his shoulder. The rat didn't drop off, or run away, or even make a mess. Instead, it rode his shoulder the perch of some imperial transport, going up on two legs now and again to catch a better sniff at the air, now and again scurrying under his hair to try out the air from the other shoulder.

Well, I can tell you, I was entranced. When we got back to her apartment that evening, I told Cherissa, "I want a rat." She said, "You're out of your mind."

I said, "I want a rat." She said, "What you want is a new girlfriend."

I said, "Look, just come down to the pet store with me." That much she would do.

Now, I was not really being fair to Cherissa. I was well aware of the enormous soft spot in Cherissa's heart for animals, and I was playing my cards like a pro. Wouldn't you know it, one look at the baby rats, scurring around, rushing up to sniff us, sleeping in piles and wrestling with each other, Cherissa was hooked. When she finally reached in and picked one up, there were no more complaints about "those scaly tails"; instead, she coo-ed and rubbed her nose in the soft brown and white fur, "This one is Trevor."

"We have a name," I thought, "YES!"

We paid for our rats, and Trevor and Clive came home with us to become our houserats. Well, I couldn't have known it at the time, but the intuition to get rats was one of the best "nudgings" of the Spirit I've ever had, and I'm grateful that I listened to it, because soon, Cherissa and I had married and moved south to the Cal Baptist Campus, where pets were not allowed.

Now, I'm serious about Cherissa's "thing" for animals. It's like heroin: she's got to have her pet fix, and if she doesn't, well, just don't expect to be able to live with her. We wouldn't have been able to hide a dog in our tiny campus apartment, but Clive and Trevor didn't make any noise, and were easily kept out of sight.

They saved Cherissa's life. For the three years we were there, these two rats learned to come when their names were called; they spent their evenings roaming the back of our couch, and secreting little bits of food they scavanged from our television snacking back to a pile in their cage.

Unfortunately, three years is a long time for a rat, and Cherissa and I were both crushed when Trevor came down with a tumor and not to long after, left this world for the great rodent beyond. Clive followed soon after, and though we were in a place where we could have other pets at that time, we were forever touched by these two tiny beasts.

In a time of famine, these little rats became friends and family, they warmed our hearts, and fed our need to care for other beings. In their own tiny way, they made our lived complete, even grand. From these tiny animals came blessings we could not count, could not begin to articulate.

I remembered these two tiny friends when I started to think about this time of year, when the small, even the tiny can be the bearer of great, even magnificent blessings. We're nearing the Winter Solstice, when although the days are cold and short, they are nonetheless filled with disproportionate joy.

Those of us who are Jews are preparing to celebrate Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights. Now Jews are quite familiar with the story behind the holiday, but Christians generally are not, and so it is for the benefit of the Christians that I would like briefly recount this ancient tale.

It starts about a hundred and fifty years before the birth of Jesus, when many Jews were cooperating with Gentile rulers, and were even ready to abolish the practice of Judaism in favor of Greek philosophy. The King even made a law outlawing the Sabbath, kosher foods and circumcision. The temple at Jerusalem was defiled by pagan worshippers, and used as a place to sacrifice to idols. You can imagine that this did not sit well with those Jews who were loyal to God. One family of faithful believers were from the priestly tribe and were called the Maccabees. Judas Maccabee and his five sons led a revolt, a civil war against the King, and after three years of guerrilla warfare the Maccabees recaptured Jerusalem in spite of the fact that they were grossly outnumbered. Almost immediately they set out to rededicate the temple.

After a new altar had been constructed and everything had been ritually cleansed, the priests found that they had only one bottle of priestly oil. This was a terrible delimma, since one bottle will only burn for one day, and the cleansing requires that the lamp be burned for a full eight days.

Trusting God, and probably hoping to uncover some more oil the next day, the lit the lamp and began their celebration. Unfortunately the next day they were able to find no more oil than they had the day before; but God didn't seem to care. The story goes that a miracle happened: that one bottle of oil burned for a full eight days, properly consecrating the temple and confirming God's pleasure in their victory. Arthur Waskow says that "the ability of that sinlge jar of oil to stay lit for eight days symbolized how with God's help that tiny amount could unfold into an infinite supply of spiritual riches. Infinite, because the eight day stood for infinity. Since the whole universe was created in seven days, eight is a symbol of eternity and infinity." (Seasons, p. 92)

And so it was that one family and a small band of soldiers were used by God to once again liberate God's people and restore true worship to Israel. At a time when the days were shortest, God chose the small and the insignificant to be lights in the darkness, to shine the way through the gloom, and yes, to change the course of history.

This is no less true for Christians at Christmas, of course. For Christians believe that it was a small and insignificant girl named Mary who was chosen by God to give birth to another great light. This poor and powerless woman, still a teenager, would by God's will and her own willingness, change the world forever.

Although Jews and Christians may disagree over exactly who Jesus was, I think we can agree on this: Wheras Moses brought the covenant to the Jews, it was through Mary and her child that the covenant came to the gentiles. When Mary and Joseph took their newborn to the Temple for his circumcision, legend has it that the priest there declared that the child was to be "a light unto the gentiles, and the glory of God's people."

So at this time of year, we, Christians and Jews together, celebrate a feast of light. Jews light their little trees, the menorahs, while Christians light their larger Christmas trees. Both testify to a sublime trust in God, to our faith that God is trustworthy, that God is with us, and that God will remain faithful to us, no matter what battles we find we may have to fight.

For it is at this time of year that we see that one little pot of oil, one little band of believers, one willing teenager, one little child, or even one little rat, can be used of God to bring uncountable blessings to the earth.

Let us pray.

Holy and awesome God,
It is we who long for the splashy finishes,
for the dramatic, for "big things" to happen;
but you, O God are not impressed by such displays.
For with you it is the small, the scorned, the powerless
that will finally conquer. So tonight we praise your name;
for a brave family of freedom fighters,
for a frightened girl-child who said "yes" to you
and even for the little beasts you give us to bring joy to our days;
It is through these "little lights" that you brighten our worlds,
and give light TO the world.
And it is for these, and all your many blessings,
we praise your name and we bless you,
the God of Israel, the ancient of Days. Amen.