Everybody knows that Christmas is marked largely by light and sound. And food, too. But for my purposes, I want to dwell on the lights and sounds of Christmas, both of which are transmitted in waves. In fact, it’s not really the lights and sounds of Christmas I want to focus on, it’s the waves. Not long ago, I asserted from this pulpit that life is cyclical. And I referred to the wave patterns of light and sound to support my point of view.
At this moment I would also like to point out that even an authority no less significant than Taylor Swift thinks life is cyclical. Just this past summer, she released a song in which she sings that “I go back to December all the time.” Cyclical! This is an entirely gratuitous reference to Taylor Swift, but, geez, that woman is in charge these days, so I want her on my side!
Light and sound are cyclical: transmitted in wave patterns, with speed, amplitude, and frequency. But Christmas is not just about light and sound. And Christmas is not just about food. Christmas is also about love. “Love came down at Christmas,” an old hymn says. And I have found myself, wondering why we don’t talk more about love at Christmas.
The scriptures are not as explicit about love as they are about the lights and sounds of Christmas. The light was provided by the star in the east, and the sound was provided by the angels singing. But the story of Jesus’ birth is full of implicit expressions of love: from Joseph’s care for Mary, under difficult circumstances, to God’s concern for the world he means to save.
Focused, as I’ve been on the cycles of sound and light waves, I have found myself wondering if love is cyclical, too. More to the point, I’ve found myself wondering if love is transmitted in wave patterns. We have been so conditioned by Cupid (that dopey, chubby angel, who is a notoriously bad shot), to think of love as an arrow, shot straight, or maybe arcing toward some point, that it might be hard for us to think as love as a wave, with its own speed, amplitude, and frequency. But what if love, like a wave (or waves) is pulsing all around us now? And if, indeed, Love came down at Christmas, transmitted in waves, what does that mean for us? What difference does it make?
You know what a wormy, zigzag, squiggle a wave looks like when it’s drawn out on a graph, expressing the measurements of speed, amplitude, and frequency. Of interest to me at Christmas, I think, is particularly the amplitude of the wave: that is, how high and how low it goes, how “big” the wave is. Because I think Christmas has something to do with the amplitude of love.
Physicists tell us that waves interfere with one another all the time. Taylor Swift has never written a song about this that I know of, but that’s her problem, not mine. She’s missing out. And recently, I learned that when waves interfere with one another, that interference can be either “destructive” or “constructive.” Destructive interference produces a wave with diminished amplitude: a smaller wave. But constructive interference produces a wave with greater amplitude: a bigger wave. Let me make that point again, it’s late after all, and I’m talking about physics. Constructive interference of two waves results in a bigger wave.
Look, I fell in love with the phrase “constructive interference” the moment I heard it. There was no chance you were going to be spared. It would hardly matter what it describes! But stay with me! (And why isn’t Taylor Swift writing songs about this stuff?!? This is great!) What if love really is pulsing around us now, like a wave, or waves. Who knows where those waves originated? Maybe in the human heart; or maybe in trees, like carbon dioxide; or, more likely, from roses, especially when they grow a little un-tamed in the garden. Think of all these hearts, all these trees, all these roses, emanating waves of love, all around us, everywhere.
Set aside the speed and the frequency. What if the amplitude of those waves of love around us has grown dim, and the waves have flattened out? Don’t you think this happens in places? I do. In corporate board rooms. And in meetings where generals debate target selection. And, of course, between people - even people who have been in love. The waves of love can grow flabby and flat. Happens all the time.
Is it possible that what happened at that first Christmas, is that God looked down from heaven, as it were, and noticed how small the amplitude of the waves of love throughout the world had become? That he saw how flat the waves were. And that God knows that flat waves are just too hard for most people to detect. And so love seems absent when the amplitude is so low, and the waves are so flat; love seems hard to find, and difficult to share. And other waves - waves produced by the desire for war, and the love of money, and basically any kind of selfishness you can imagine - these other waves have such reliably noticeable amplitude (with high peaks and low valleys), that it seems like they easily crowd out the waves of love, when the love-amplitude (if I can call it that) is low.
But remember, those physicists tell us that waves interfere with each other all the time. So I guess love waves would interfere with one another, too. And we already know one way to increase the amplitude of a wave! That’s right: constructive interference! (Eat your heart out, Taylor Swift!)
What if God sent his Son Jesus into the world as an act of constructive interference: to increase the love-amplitude in the world, so that people would take notice of love; and so that love might have a chance amid all the other wormy, zigzag, squiggling waves out there? What if love is all around us being transmitted in waves? Some of it might be coming from the trees, some from the roses, and some of it from the person next to you, or the person who is nowhere near you but who you are thinking about right now. And, of course, some of the love-waves are coming from you, too!
Waves are always interfering with one another. But what if somehow, all we have managed to produce by way of wave interference is destructive interference, which results in smaller amplitude, and less noticeable love? And what if this pattern of destructive interference had been going on for a long time? Wouldn’t the loving thing to do - the loving thing, from a loving God - wouldn’t it be to send in a source of constructive interference? And jack that love-amplitude up?! What if that’s what the Child in the manger is? Producing not just ample waves of sound, as he cries for his Mother’s breast, and not just whatever light waves would come from the One who is light of light; but what if that Child is also the source and origin of love? What if he emanates love that gets transmitted to the world in waves, with speed, and frequency, and amplitude? And what if he came to us to be the source of constructive interference, with the capacity to greatly increase the amplitude of our love? Wouldn’t that be good news?
One of the reasons I like to think about Christmas this way is because this stuff is real; this actually happens - waves and constructive interference! This is physics, baby! This isn’t just some Taylor Swift song about going back to December all the time! What if love really is transmitted to us in something like waves that we cannot see, and that are hard to measure, but are, nevertheless, as real as sound waves and light waves?
What if Christmas is about more than light and sound and food? What if Christmas really is about the gift of love being given to us again and again by God, since, somehow, the amplitude of love in the world had grown flat and weak? And what if Jesus - who, if he is God of God, and light of light, and very God of very God, is also love of love - what if Jesus is the constructive interference that we need to increase the amplitude of love in our lives, and maybe usher in a new era of God’s love?
Now, that’s an era I’d be looking forward to! So, I don’t know why Taylor Swift isn’t writing a song about constructive interference. But, don’t worry, Taylor, you’re not the problem, it’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me. Don’t worry about constructive interference. I’ve got it covered. I go back to December all the time, too. It’s a wonderful cycle to return to every year. No matter how diminished the amplitude of love has become, without fail, God sends his Son to us, again and again, in this beautiful act of constructive interference that looks like Mary and Joseph, and the babe lying in the manger, as Love comes down at Christmas. Thanks be to God!
Preached by Fr. Sean Mullen
Christmas Eve, 2023
Saint Mark’s, Locust Street, Philadelphia
