The Rev. Dr. John Tamilio III, Pastor
© 2023, Dr. Tamilio
At the advice of my colleague, Rev. Dee Scott, and our Student Minister, Alex Killian, I started watching the series The Chosen last week. It is a series by the filmmaker Dallas Jenkins currently streaming on the Peacock network. It is a historical drama about the life and ministry of Jesus. Cindy and I just started watching it, so I can’t say much as we are only a few episodes into it. It is a powerful portrayal of Jesus, beginning when he calls his first disciples and heals Mary Magdalene of the demons that possessed her.
You really get a strong sense of the historical context: the time and place where Jesus lived. Anyone who has spent any time seriously studying the Gospels knows that first-century Roman-occupied Palestine was one in which there was great class division. Even Jews who worked as fishermen or craftsmen were not far from being destitute. The Romans inflicted severe taxes on the Jews that made them dependent on their captors, placing them at their mercy. The Jews were second-class citizens at best. They had religious freedom (meaning they could worship God and practice their faith as they wished), but they had few other rights and even less recourse to civil law.
Right from the start of the show, you get the feeling that something is going to happen. The Jewish characters are waiting for the Messiah whom they believe will liberate them from the Romans who ruled with an iron fist. That’s about as far as we’ve gotten at this point. Plus, I wouldn’t want to ruin the show for you anyway. A verse came to my mind as we watched the first episode — the same verse that is in today’s Old Testament lesson from Isaiah: “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness on them light has shined.” (If I had a great, deep, bass voice, I would have sung this verse as it appears in Handel’s Messiah.)
Our world is not so different today. Many fear that the divide between the haves and the have-nots is growing. Just look at the cost of groceries, gasoline, prescription medications, insurance, eggs, and a host of other necessities. Families that used to survive on one income are realizing that maybe even two incomes is not enough. Then there is the political divide in this country between those on the right and left, with the gap growing each day it seems. Add to this the global conflicts that have engulfed the planet such as the ongoing war between Russia and Ukraine, civil wars in Myanmar and Ethiopia, the fighting between Israel and Palestine, and rumors of war that many believe will involve China and North Korea.
In sum, there is much to be distraught about. No, we are not living under the same oppression that the Jews in Palestine lived under some 2000 years ago — but tribulation is relative. As the nineteenth-century Scottish minister Ian Maclaren wrote, “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” There’s a whole sermon on that quote alone (a homily on compassion and understanding), but let’s just stick with what it says. Everyone has struggles: depression, anxiety, stress, addictions, financial worries, healthcare concerns, problems with family members or friends — the list is lengthy.
But for all of us “doing time in the darkness,” as Oscar Wilde calls it, there is a light. For some, it is a dim light in the distance. For others, it is a light that burns bright, warm, and close to the heart. It is the same light that shone over Bethlehem’s manger; the same light that Peter, James, and John saw at the Transfiguration; the same light that broke forth from the empty tomb.
In my contribution to our church’s annual report, which you will receive today, I speak about my wife’s recent breast cancer diagnosis. I need to reflect upon that a bit further, as it relates directly to the theme of this sermon.
When Cindy received her diagnosis, it was somewhat by mistake. The diagnosis wasn’t a mistake; the way we received it was. She had gone for a biopsy, because, during her recent mammogram, her doctor found a very small constellation of what she thought were simply calcified cells. She (her doctor) thought it was benign, and wanted to make sure. She assured us that she would call us when the results were available. Nowadays, many of us have access to our medical records online through a portal that our doctors use to post blood test results, a list of the prescriptions we take, and a whole host of other information. Cindy received an email telling her that there was a new report on her chart. We quickly logged on and sifted through the medical jargon. What rose to the surface were the words “invasive” and “carcinoma.”
When we finally got a hold of her physician’s assistant, she said — after apologizing that this information was posted before she had a chance to call us — she said that indeed Cindy had breast cancer. She began telling us what the next steps would be, but we heard little of it, the word “cancer” still deafening our ears.
When the call was over, we simply cried. It felt as if the darkness that is this terrible disease surrounded us. Everything felt gray and thick. That is the only way I can describe it. Gray and thick. Moving quickly through Elizabeth Kübler-Ross’ stages of grief, we began to “bargain” right away by rationalizing everything. The person we spoke to on the phone said that this wasn’t a medical emergency, so we held tight to that. We also knew that the lesion was very small, and it was caught early. That was encouraging. This gave us a little glimpse of the light that was piercing the gray mist that engulfed us.
We found ourselves on our knees, literally, lifting every feeling we had up to God: prayers for healing, prayers for strength, prayers for everything we could voice.
Update: everything is fine. We went to the doctor the other day (the one who performed the surgery at Mass General) and received the best possible report: the cancer was completely removed, the margins were clear, and there is zero spread to the lymph nodes. That was our prayer the day we found out, the day we dropped to our knees and prayed.
I am hesitant to talk about prayers being answered because there are many people in our situation who feel as if their prayers have not been answered. Maybe the greatest prayer of all (in any scenario) is for God’s will to be done and for us to have the strength we need to shoulder whatever will be.
We were grateful for the results. Overjoyed and ecstatic are more accurate adjectives.
In the final analysis, we knew that Jesus was with us through it all — and still is. His light broke through the darkness. It was always there. (We were never fully in the dark, even though we may have thought we were.) That light is the same light that has dawned on people throughout history, whenever anyone feels as if they are lost. The light shines. It cannot be squelched. It was always there, from the very beginning of time when God’s Spirit hovered over the primordial waters. It is the light that overcomes all darkness, whatever form that darkness takes — be it hate, war, drug addiction, infidelity, financial crises, abuse, prejudice, oppression, feelings of emptiness, feelings of abandonment, betrayal, confusion, guilt, despair, depression, anxiety, problems at work, problems at home — add your own problems to the list. The light will overcome it. Jesus frees us for a full relationship with him.
Embrace that light, my friends. Let it fill you. Let it surround you. Let it shine. “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.” Yes, it has dawned — and it has dawned on us as well. Amen.