We are approaching the longest night. On December 21, the winter solstice, the sun will set at 4:59. At our house we look forward to this day because after that, each day gets longer until finally summer arrives, and the fireflies do not come out til almost 10pm. The darkness of winter can affect our psyche. And for some among us, the plaza lights and advent candles seem inadequate to dispel the spiritual heaviness of the season.
The source of the darkness varies. For some, there is the sadness of infertility, while the whole world celebrates a miraculous baby. In some households, a chair is empty and the memory of last Christmas, when our beloved was still at the table, sends shockwaves through the whole body. While the Black Friday specials turn to Cyber Monday specials, some cannot afford to purchase any gifts because the credit card is already maxed out. And for those of us who call ourselves Christian, celebrating can feel disingenuous while our neighbors sleep under bridges in the US or hide out without food or water in Gaza or Ukraine.
The gospel of John never mentions a word about the baby Jesus. No, not a hint. But John describes what happens spiritually when Jesus entered the darkness of our human circumstance.
“What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” (John 1:4-5)
The birth of Jesus did not eliminate the sadness of humanity. Perhaps it even awakened us to pay attention to the pain. Maybe the ones who will most notice the power of his birth are the very ones among us who know the ache of stumbling through the darkness. I like how Scott Cairns, a poet writes of this holy miracle:
“Just now the earth recalls His stunning visitation.
Now the earth and scattered habitants attend to what is possible:
that He of a morning entered this, our meagered circumstance,
and so relit the fuse igniting life in them,
igniting life in all the dim surround.”
– Christmas Green by Scott Cairns
Grace and Peace,
Carla
