There is nothing quite like that night. The sanctuary goes dark and one candle is lit, until the room radiates a holy light. When the gathered community sings Silent Night on that candlelit night, even the biggest skeptic can believe.
What is it about the night that settles ominously over us, and what is it about candlelight that awakens us to wonder? A few years ago I drove to my monthly Scrabble group in a pouring rainstorm. The group was fairly new and we were still getting acquainted, not yet completely revealing of our personal woes. We mostly laughed, spelled words and talked about the news. But on this night, the power went out. And the host only found one candle. It was not enough light to play scrabble. But it was enough to share refreshments and talk. And there in the candlelight, we talked for hours, just talked. In a real way. Not just about the news, but about the stories of our lives.
I realized recently that most of the Christmas story takes place in the dark: the wise ones following the star in the night sky; the shepherds keeping their flock by night, Joseph has a dream, the angels sing their birth announcement in the night sky. And yet we spend so much of our lives avoiding the unknown dark corridors of life. Regardless of the rotation of the earth, there are situations we prefer to avoid, emotions that constrict the heart. Maybe that is why Christmas happens at night, so that God can descend into the corner of our lives that most needs to be illuminated by love.
I have not missed a candlelight Christmas Eve service for over 40 years. But this year will be the first time I get to speak the word, not just read the scripture. I am excited. And afraid.
With grace and peace,
Carla
