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I gave a reflection at the Celtic service at the beginning of November. As I walked back from the lectern, I took my seat behind one of the candle-wrapped pillars that light up the church. Soon after I sat down, I heard a loud “pop,” and shards of glass fell into my lap. The candle above me had heated the glass around it to the point where it broke. I cleaned up the glass and put it into a pile on the floor. It was still hot. I laughed to myself, thinking God might have taken issue with my reflection. During the rest of the service, I watched the candle above me flicker, defiant in giving off light until wax and wick were no more.
As I stared at the candle, I couldn’t help but think that the stubborn flames represent the divine promise that even the smallest light can chase away the shadows lurking in the world—even in the darkest places. The candles of Advent remind us of the incarnation and if the incarnation tells us anything, it’s that the light of God can’t be kept out.
In our passage for today, Jesus is proclaiming the good news, and the Chief Priests and teachers of the law ask Jesus, “Who gave you this authority?” Jesus refuses to answer them directly because God can be wherever God wants to be.
God needs no formal invitation and does not need to prove her authority. We couldn't remove God from our presence if we tried. God can be found everywhere—in a cattle trough, among the poor, in a hospital room, among the hypocrites, with the forgotten, in places of power and in places of oppression. No amount of darkness can overcome light. The candles of Advent remind us of this.
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