I remember a spectacular moment in Paris on our honeymoon: the night on the Avenue des Champs-Élysées when the Christmas lights were switched on. I remember it, because, standing right there, on the Avenue, we missed the moment.

We had our backs to the boulevard, looking at an illuminated building. We wondered why what the huge buzzing crowd behind us was there. Then there was a deafening cheer. “Why are they cheering?” we wondered, as we turned around. The Avenue was magnificently ablaze with lights. On that cold clear night, standing right there, we missed the coming of the light. Christmas is wonderful. However, the main event is the cosmic switching on of the greatest Light – the Light of Christ.

Advent is a “waiting” for the first and second coming of Christ. Moreover, the ancient Advent themes – Death, Judgement, Heaven and Hell – remind us why Christ’s coming into our darkness matters. Why… His Light matters.

The darkness gathers us in – into our homes, ourselves. Advent slows us down. This year, I need Advent more than ever. The darkness of death crossed our threshold when my mum passed away. I need Advent quietness, because I need to ponder life, death, and darkness. I need to seek Christ-Light in the darkness that haunts us. Grief wraps tendrils around everything. I do not need Christmas tinsel – I need the blazing Christ-Light. I need to dwell on the truth of Zachariah’s prophetic words:

“through the tender mercy of our God… the Dawn from on high has visited us, to give light to us who wait in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” (Luke 1)

This is God’s tender mercy to us – that, into our darkness, breaks the Dawn of the Eternal Light of Christ.

Light is deeply symbolic. In Sri Lanka, two other religious festivals celebrate light: During Vesak, Buddhists light the nation with lanterns and flickering oil lamps; Diwali, the Hindu festival of light, includes the triumph of light over darkness. Humans have always known the terror of darkness, within and without. These festivals foreshadow “the true Light which gives light to every man… coming into the world” (John 1)

Light is central to Christmas.

In December, lights in cities, homes and gardens banish darkness. It feels to me that we are constantly reminded of the Child of Light as Christmas approaches. How beautiful this light is, especially on dark cold days. I love the soft flicker of candlelight on our mantelpiece, the mesmerising flames and sparks of firelight. I love walking beneath fairy lights, like waterfalls above me. I love Christmas trees twinkling through windows. I love faces glowing above candlelight at carol services. I love the gathering of light around us in the darkest season of the year.

Light is central to God’s people.

The first words of God, at Creation, are “Let there be light.” And so, in the Old Testament, God’s light is seen: a pillar of fire brings light and protection to his fleeing people. Lightning showed God’s presence at Sinai. Job’s suffering is suffused by an absence of light and his yearning for it.

In the New Testament, the Light comes… to dwell among us. On Earth.

Wherever the Light of the World came, darkness was banished, life was restored, healing flowed, forgiveness was given, joy, love, comfort abounded. And, ultimately, there was Resurrection — for the darkness did not overcome the Light,

In his TV series on the 20th century, James May describes a momentous innovation — electricity, that literally lit up our world. Without electricity, our world was a different place. As he put it,

“In previous centuries… if aliens had flown past our planet at night, they would have detected no signs of life …we would have blown out our dim candles and gone to bed. But now our planet glows in the dark. For the first time in 4.5 billion years, intergalactic travellers know that the Earth is worth visiting.”

Christ illuminates our world. His light has never been extinguished. It was given to us, and from us it shines out into our world.

The leeries or lamplighters, in “Mary Poppins Returns” (watch it this Christmas), dance through dark alleys and spaces, singing… “Trip a little light fantastic with me.” They banish the children’s fear of the dark.

A leerie loves the edge of night

Though dim to him, the world looks bright

He’s got the gift of second sight

To trip a little light fantastic;

A leerie’s job’s to light the way

To tame the night and make it day

We mimic the moon, yes, that’s our aim

For we’re the keepers of the flame

The Light of Christmas, the Light of Christ, is passed on

…By us.

…In perpetuity.

…Until Christ returns.

We are Leeries with the Light of God. Keepers of the flame. Lighting the way. Since the first Christmas, “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5).