Good Darkness: Rev. Amy’s Christmas Eve message
When I first started here, just a couple of months ago, my predecessor, the Rev Lucia Jackson, was beginning each service with a prayer using words from the Gospel of John—that a light shines in the darkness, and that light never goes out—that darkness will never overcome that light. While this Christmas Eve is quite different than what any of us are used to, and while I may be a new face, and while nothing may ever be like it once was—that the darkness will never overcome the light remains true. That “What has come into being in God was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it” remains true; it remains eternally true.
I was reading an article about the Winter Solstice a few days ago, and there was an interview with an astronomer and director of the Vatican Observatory, Brother Guy Consolmagno. He was discussing the fact that the clearest nights that are the coldest ones, the most brutal—the clearest, coldest nights are when we can see the most stars. He’s quoted saying, “It is an interesting metaphysical as well as astronomical truth, that it is only when you have good darkness that you can see the faint lights, whether it is faint stars, or the little points of light, the thousand points of light that bring us hope even in darkness.”
Good darkness. It is only with good darkness that we are reminded of the good that is always clawing its way out to be let free to shine. It is only with deep darkness that we can clearly see the good we must continue to do so that the light indeed never goes go out.
I have a strange recurring dream, church, in which I’m trying to get somewhere, but the world is just too bright. I’m feeling my way around trying to get to my destination, trying to squint to see, to make out my next turn, but it’s all too distorted and too blinding. In these dreams, I would give anything for a light switch, a dimmer, a pair of sunglasses. I think sometimes too much light, certain kinds of artificial light can blind us to the work that needs to be done in this world.
Church, these past 9 months have shone a bright light in the darkness on all that is wrong with our world. And that bright light will lead us to be a better world. And tonight, as a we celebrate the coming of Jesus, the coming of the Prince of Peace, that our God who is love brought to us in human form, we look forward to something new.
Just about everything will be different after this era, church. But tonight, we will find comfort together, even on screens. We will find comfort when we dim the lights in our respective homes and light our candles, apart, but so together. We will find comfort in the familiar, miraculous story of Jesus, a baby, both human and divine, laid in a manger without the option of real shelter. Tonight we will find comfort in familiar carols played lovingly by our organist, and sung and recorded with joy by our choir director. Tonight we will find comfort in the darkness of this strange Christmas Eve service.
