December 10, 2008

Read Psalm 38

As for the light of my eyes—it also has gone from me.—Psalm 38:10

Today is the first of the twenty-three darkest days of the year. This year the winter solstice will occur at 6:04 am on December 21. As I do every year, I am performing a rather desperate personal calendar ritual, in which every morning I count the days until the solstice, add an equal number of days afterward, and tell myself: Okay, we’re in the twenty-three (or fifteen, or seven) darkest days of the year, and I’m still getting through, still getting out of bed, still doing what I need to do. After twenty-three more days, there will be more light than there is today. Things will get better. I can do this.

I have a hard time with the darkness. Like the psalmist, I feel like my eyes have gone dark along with the days, that the inner light has been dimmed along with the pale late-autumn sun. The fire of life has been banked; the embers are buried in ash; the warmth has retreated beyond my reach. The darkness has been increasing for so long that I am beginning to fear that the light will never return.

It is in this darkness that we somehow find the faith and the courage to light the candles of Advent. Make no mistake: it really is dark, and the candles really are very small. There is nothing in the world to reassure us, and no innate security in the tiny lights we tend each week. We tread the darkness by grace, carrying the gift of the Lord’s promises in one hand and our candle in the other. It is not until Christmastide that we discover that these are more than enough.

Pray: Blessed and Beloved Spirit, by your holy grace give me the faith and courage to carry our Advent candles through this present darkness, until the blazing star of Christmas warms our lives. Amen.

Becky Browne is a retired schoolteacher who takes art classes at the community college, sings Sacred Harp music, and loves her cats.