The Light Shines in the Darkness

This morning’s Gospel is the familiar opening of St. John’s Gospel. One phrase in particular has always been a talisman for my own faith. As we heard it today in the New Revised Standard translation: “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it.” Some of you may remember it in the words of the King James version: “The light shineth in darkness and the darkness comprehended it not.”

The light shines in the darkness. But how the darkness reacts varies a bit from one translation to another. Raymond Brown, a noted scholar of the Johanine literature, writes: “The Greek verb katalambanein is difficult to translate.” That’s what the darkness cannot do to the light. “We distinguish,” he continues, “four tendencies among translators.”

1) “to grasp, to comprehend,” meaning intellectual comprehension. This parallels the later verse when the people do not recognize Jesus in their midst and it fits the King James translation. The darkness could not comprehend the light.

2) “to welcome, receive, accept or appreciate.” The darkness did not welcome or accept the light.

3) “to overtake or overcome,” to grasp in a hostile sense. This fits with the Johanine theology of struggle between light and dark and is the meaning found in the NRSV. The darkness did not overcome the light.

4) “to master.” The darkness did not master or control the light.

This is more than an academic word study. I have said before that the complexity of translation is good for us. It forces us figure out what the words mean for us. Our process is not to discover what John meant, but to discern what God means. And the answer may be all of the above, or different parts at different times. The Word continues to speak to us throughout our lives. And what we are grappling with in this passage from John is our own theology of the incarnation. What does it mean for us that Jesus was born into our world?

I want to share a few loosely connected reflections on this passage. Light shines in the darkness and the darkness cannot overcome it. Jesus brings a light into our lives that no darkness can overcome. Even the faintest candle can be seen in the deepest darkness. Light is immeasurably more powerful than darkness. And we have been given this powerful light in our own lives as a gift from God. To paraphrase a more vulgar expression in common usage, “darkness happens.” Darkness happens. But by God’s gift, we have been given light which is more powerful than any darkness.

This passage also always reminds me of an opera by Benjamin Britten. I may be the only opera lover here; we tend to be a minority in any gathering. But Britten’s opera Billy Budd has long been one of my favorites and I had the chance to see it again recently in Santa Fe this past summer. The opera has a notable literary pedigree. It is based on a novella by Herman Melville. The libretto for the opera is by E. M. Forster, another notable figure in English letters.

Knowing that the story is by Melville, you will not be surprised to hear it is about the fundamental struggle between good and evil, and it takes place on the sea, where such struggle can be more starkly portrayed without the clutter of distractions. The setting is the British man o’ war Indomitable. Three characters embody the struggle. The sailor Billy Budd is the embodiment of goodness. John Claggert, master at arms, is evil incarnate. And Captain Vere is a human being like us who must live in a world where good and evil both exist and struggle with one another.

Listen to what evil, sung by Claggert, says when he first sees Billy Budd. “O, goodness…. Would that I ne’er encountered you! But alas, alas! The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness comprehends it and suffers.” An interesting and powerful modification of John’s Gospel. Light shines in the darkness and the darkness does comprehend it, does understand it, and that comprehension brings suffering. The light causes suffering for that which is evil. It disrupts evil’s presence and purpose. To put it in more personal terms, perhaps: God’s light, born in the world, makes us uncomfortable with evil. The light that shines into the darkness of our lives, our world, makes us intolerant of evil’s presence. And that’s a very good thing.

In the opera, Billy Budd, goodness incarnate, is executed. It is complicated. Real life struggles usually are. He is court martialed for striking and killing a superior officer, Claggert. To say Claggert provoked him is only part of the story. But Billy is condemned to die by hanging from the yardarm, and Captain Vere alone is left to reflect upon his own life, his role in the struggle between good and evil that has taken place on the ship under his command. All of us are participants in the struggle between good and evil. All of us command ships where that struggle takes place.

Vere sings of Billy’s death: “We committed his body to the deep. The sea-fowl enshadowed him with their wings, their harsh cries were his requiem. But the ship passed on under light airs towards the rose of dawn, and soon it was full day in its clearness and strength.”

“O, what have I done? O what, what have I done? But he has saved me, and blessed me, and the love that passeth understanding has come to me. I was lost on the infinite sea, but I’ve sighted a sail in the storm, the far-shining sail, and I’m content. I’ve seen where she’s bound for. There’s a land where she’ll anchor for ever.”

Out of a life of struggle and anxiety, lost on an infinite sea… A ship, sailing towards the light of dawn, passing through storm to anchor at peace. For ever. Blessed and redeemed.