By: Marek Zabriskie
Each year, as the fall was ending and winter was approaching, the ancient Celtic Christians moved their flocks of sheep, goats, cattle and horses into enclosures near their homes. They had no idea about the earth’s orbit and the sun’s rotation and how the seasons worked. So, they prayed throughout the dark season that the light would return.
The ancient Celts viewed the of the harvest and the beginning of winter as a “thin place,” where heaven and earth briefly touched and the dead returned to seek revenge on those who had hurt them. They celebrated a Gaelic festival called “Samhain” and wore disguises to ensure that the dead could not recognize them. This gave birth to Halloween as we know it and ushered in the “darker half” of the year.
Like the ancient Celts, as the days grow shorter, the nights grow longer, and the weather gets colder, we, too, move indoors. We build fires, hunker down and sleep under warm blankets and quilts as the darkness envelopes us. Like the Celts, we must learn how to navigate in the dark.
This year, we are moving into an specially dark winter with COVID on the rise. Everyone is worried. Much of life is shutting down – gyms, bars, some indoor dining, concerts, professional sporting events. Many fear taking public transportation. We are urged not to gather with family for the holidays, and for the first time in a century there are no Christmas parties.
Whatever challenges we face – isolation, illness, uncertainty, financial worries, or the loss of a loved one – COVID has compounded our difficulties. The darkness is darker than ever. Hence, this year we are not worried about wreaths and Christmas lights or finding the exact right gift. Instead, we are thinking about how not to get infected or infect others, and we wonder when we can be vaccinated and when COVID will end.
In the Evening Prayer service, Episcopalians pray:
Be our light in the darkness, O Lord, and in your great mercy defend us from
all perils and dangers of this night…
To the encroaching darkness, the Church speaks one word, which is strange to some and familiar to others – Advent. It signifies one of the principle seasons of the Church Year. It began last Sunday and continues until Christmas Eve. Advent comes from a Latin word meaning “coming”, and it signifies the coming of Christ – the Light of the World – into our lives.
Advent always begins in the dark. Darkness is often associated with fear and uncertainty. Advent is a season of waiting and watching in silence and solitude for the light to enter the darkness of our lives and dispel our fear. The great American rabbi Abraham Heschel wrote, “The inner history of Israel is a history of waiting for God, of waiting for His arrival.”
The psalms speak constantly of waiting for God. “My soul waits for the Lord, more than watchmen for the morning,” Psalm 130 says. “For God alone my soul in silence waits,” Psalm 62 declares. “Those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength,” the prophet Isaiah announces.
As Christians we live our lives in a perpetual Advent between the first and the second coming of Christ, waiting for God’s light to shine into our darkness.
O. Henry, was a prolific writer of countless short stories. He was a heavy drinker, who knew dark times and died early at the age of 48. His biographer, Alphonso Smith, reports his last words were, “Turn up the lights: I don’t want to go home in the dark.” None of us likes to dwell in the dark. All of us have a history with darkness.
When I was a boy, nighttime brought on fear, and it was hard for me to fall asleep. I was afraid of snakes and monsters under my bed. When I was a teenager, my parents began their divorce. My mother plunged into depression, drank heavily and tried to take her own life. It was a dark time. After college, I lived in Paris on $3 a day, struggled to learn French and fell into a depression of my own despairing of my future.
It is in the difficult times that we learn how to walk in the dark. Walking in the dark teaches us how to be resilient, courageous, use common sense, seek wisdom and exercise selfcare. In the dark, we discern what truly matters in life. We learn that we need cannot go it alone, but need support to survive the dark chapters of life. We need sunlight, balance, a schedule, things to keep us busy, friends and family to lean on and a faith in God to light our way.
St. John of the Cross is a famous Christian mystic who endured much spiritual darkness. His fellow monks locked him in prison for attempting religious reforms that they resisted. He had moments when he felt utterly bereft of God. He wrote, “The endurance of darkness is the preparation for great light.” Darkness teaches us to value the light.
A study of 21,000 students found that those studying in classrooms with the most daylight improved 20 percent faster on math tests and 26 percent faster on reading tests over one year than students in classrooms with the least light.
It revealed that moving a child from the classroom with the least daylight to one with the most light produced the same improvement as moving a child from the lowest to the highest performing school in the district. Darkness is debilitating. We humans crave the light.
In the dark, we come to value those who walked through the darkness and can guide us towards the light on the other side. When I worked one summer for the church in Kenya, I had to travel from one remote village to another in the jungle in the darkest night that I can ever recall. A Christian woman from one of the villages served as my guide.
She wore a white dress. I could see nothing around me as we walked through the dark jungle, so I just followed closely behind her, watching her white dress like a flashlight to guide my way. Whenever life casts us into the dark, it is wise to find a guide, someone who knows how to walk through the darkness that we have encountered because they have been there before us.
One day, we won’t have to wear masks or be afraid to fly in airplanes or enter movie theaters. One day, our children will play together without fear. One day, we will fill our places of worship again for prayer, religious services and baptisms, weddings and funerals.. One day, the light will overcome the darkness and COVID will be gone. In the meantime, we pray during this season of Advent, O come, O come Emmanuel.
