Festival of Light

I am privileged to belong to a church who celebrates Hanukkah, the Festival of Light. Many assume this is a celebration for Jews only, and there are plenty of cultural adaptations that promote something other than the core spirit of the feast. However, consider that the God who kept the lights burning long past the time when the oil should have run out, is the same God who later sent His Son into a dark world that should have lost hope long ago. Such miraculous provision is absolutely appropriate for believers in Jesus as Messiah to honor! 

A few years ago, we chose to commemorate Hanukkah with a type of holy walk, inviting visitors to follow a luminary-lined path and experience the story unfolding at stops along the way. I had been asked to portray Mary, the mother of Jesus. I have always loved Mary’s encounter with the angel Gabriel, recorded in Luke chapter 1. As I thought about how to bring this conversation to life for my visitors, I knew I wanted to emphasize the celebration of light and life this dual season brings. If you follow the biblical timeline, rather than the dates that were later changed to conform to the Greco-Roman calendar, you will discover that Jesus’  birth in the fall of the year very likely meant His conception would have coincided with Hanukkah. How like God to send His Light into the world during the Festival of Light, a season in which His people are primed to expect the miraculous!

The following, then, is my adaptation of Mary’s entrance onto the gospel stage, drawn from the writings of Luke. I hope you will be as blessed in the reading as I have been in the writing and delivering of these beautiful words of Life!

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“Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord’s promise to her would be fulfilled!”

Elizabeth said as much when she greeted me, and she ought to know. For my aging, barren relative never gave up hope in the blessing of God, and now, her steadfast faith is about to bear fruit. 

“Blessed are you, sweet Mary, and blessed is the child in your womb!” she called out upon my arrival. “For behold, the baby I carry began to dance with joy inside me at the music of your voice. Who am I, and who is my son, that the mother of our Lord should come to grace this house?” Overcome, Elizabeth buried her face in her hands and wept. I, too, was speechless. How could she have know such things?

After all, it was only the day before that the angel of God had visited me, bringing strange tidings of great joy and wonder …

“Greetings, favored one!” he proclaimed. “The Lord is with you.”

But what could this mean? I wondered. An angel visitant, bearing the Lord’s blessing …

“Do not fear, Mary,” he continued, “For the Lord is most pleased with you. Indeed, He has chosen you to conceive in your womb and bring forth a Son. You shall name Him Jesus, for He shall save His people from their sins and reign over an everlasting kingdom of the redeemed.”

So solemn and holy his pronouncement sounded forth that I could not doubt the truth of his words. No more, it seems, could I stop my feeble lips from questioning him …

“My lord, how can this be? For you see, I have never been with a man.”

“Fear not, Mary,” he gently repeated, “For the Light you carry will be kindled by the Holy Spirit. His power will surround you, His glory well up within you, and the holy Child inside you will be called the Son of God.

“Think you such a thing impossible? Not so! Even aged Elizabeth carries a son in her womb; this woman long called barren is about to bear fruit. For nothing is impossible with God!”

Light blazed forth from the angel’s eyes, drowning my doubts in a burst of devotion.

“I am the Lord’s servant,” I replied. “May His Word live in me, just as you have spoken.”

Scarcely had the angel left me when I made ready to depart myself. I told my family that I was determined to celebrate the Festival of Lights in the hill country with our relatives. More than that, I had to see for myself how dear Elizabeth blossomed with the promise of God.

In Zechariah’s humble home that night, we gathered around the table to celebrate, hearts and bellies both full with God’s blessing. As the candles blazed forth with festival light and the Light of the World glowed beneath my folded hands, my spirit rose with joyful hallelujah, and I cried out:

“My spirit radiates the blessing of the Lord and my soul delights to sing His praise! For He has reached down from on hight to lift His humble servant from the depths. From now on, all generations will know how I’ve been blessed. For God Most High has birthed a miracle in me; holy, holy is His name.

“Those who bow before His throne will be steeped in mercy, from generation to generation. For He knows the hidden motives of the proud — He pulls them down from their lofty position and scatters them to the winds. But those with humble, seeking hearts He raises to His side. All who admit their need and emptiness, He fills to overflowing, but those who are self-satisfied, He turns away.

“He is the Savior of His chosen people Israel. He remembers always to extend mercy to the line of Abraham, ever on until forever.”

A worshipful hush fell over the room as I finished, the flickering of the candles the only sound in the silence.

For now, I will remain here with Elizabeth, watching the promises of God unfold. And when my own time comes, I will have been prepared and purified, ready to welcome the Word made flesh, who rests — even now — beneath my heart.

May the Lord of miracles bless you richly in this Season of Light, and may you, too, believe in the fullness of His promises!