We are in the midst of Advent in the Christian lectionary, Hanukkah in the Jewish calendar and the Yule time in the Pagan tradition. Once again a time of religious overlay which, like Easter and Passover, reminds us of a sacred time of the year. What all these holy days have in common is the hope that light will forever return after darkness. This is the time of year when the encroaching darkness brings us closer together with the promise that we will find our way through the night to days lengthening in joy and promise.
I am well aware of how difficult this time of year can be for those of us who are missing loved ones away and gone. The joy of the season is not in the loss of their light, but in the invitation to find the light in others and our beloved community. The special worship services of December are an invitation to join together and with our love bring back the light. I invite you to join especially this year as we face our own personal loss and our collective tragedies of heartbreak.
Advent begins by reminding us of the coming darkness, leading up to the new birth of Light on Christmas Day. There is poignancy in this story: A reminder that it is darkest before the dawn but the dawn always arrives and that arrival is the joy of these Holy Days, the ancient reason for the season.
One of the writers I follow is the poet Jan Richardson (adventdoor.com) whose hus- band Gary died unexpectedly some years ago on the first Sunday of Advent. She recalls how each year this season takes her into the darkness, only to be released into the light by Christmas. She reminds me that we all struggle with darkness and find redemption in the company of one another. I close with her poem:
Blessing When the World is Ending
Look, the world
is always ending
somewhere.
Somewhere
the sun has come
crashing down.
Somewhere
it has gone
completely dark.
Somewhere
it has ended
with the gun
the knife
the fist.
Somewhere
it has ended
with the slammed door
the shattered hope.
Somewhere
it has ended
with the utter quiet
that follows the news
from the phone
the television
the hospital room.
Somewhere
it has ended
with a tenderness
that will break
your heart.
But, listen,
this blessing means
to be anything
but morose.
It has not come
to cause despair.
It is simply here
because there is nothing
a blessing
is better suited for
than an ending,
nothing that cries out more
for a blessing
than when a world
is falling apart.
This blessing
will not fix you
will not mend you
will not give you
false comfort;
it will not talk to you
about one door opening
when another one closes.
It will simply
sit itself beside you
among the shards
and gently turn your face
toward the direction
from which the light
will come,
gathering itself
about you
as the world begins
again.
– Jan Richardson
Wishing you the love of grace this holiday season,
– Rev. John