January 4--Waiting for the Light

"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” –John 1:5

Sunday was amazing.

Seventy two degrees, a soft wind, and absolutely nothing to do. The perfect ‘winter’ day for short-sleeve -clad torsos to soak in the sunshine . . . for cousins to fly kites at the park down the street . . . for grandmother to join granddaughter in casual conversation about the precious gift of life and the peaceful joy of returning to our master in death.

So much light and love . . . so much warmth and comfort . . . it is hard to believe the shortest day of the New England winter was only a week ago. That ice storms and piles of snow and frigid temperatures defined my life until the morning of Christmas Eve. All that is far away as I linger in bare feet and turn on the ceiling fan for a bit of cool air and prepare for the year to turn in this very different part of the country where I have celebrated Christmas with family.

But I have not forgotten the darkness.

Darkness has defined so much of our lives for so many months that it has seeped into our very bones, especially if we live in New England. Those of us who are not native to this part of the country may resist it at first. (I still remember the shock of that first year of steady but stark decline in daylight hours from late fall to Christmas week.) Eventually, though, it becomes part of the rhythm of our lives year after year . . . something we may even embrace as a comfort at times . . . the deep call of nature to a season of restful hibernation in the midst of the frenetic pace of a culture that never sleeps.

Darkness may actually be a welcome friend for those of us who are sensitive to light, who burn easily, who find too much sunshine and hot weather to be even more stressful than cold, snowy winters.

“All things came into being through the Word, and without the Word not one thing came into being,” John’s gospel tells us in the lectionary text for today. “What has come into being in the Word was life, and the life was the light of all people” (John 1:3-4).

It blows my mind to imagine a God who created all these things that have come into being . . . the darkness, the light, the different kinds of people and animals and plants who need different kinds of climates in order to thrive. It blows my mind to remember the darkness and cold of New England as I rest in the radiant sunshine of the American South. It blows my mind to pray to a good and generous God who created all of it, who loves all of it, who redeems all of it, who knows that we need light in the midst of too much darkness, that we need darkness in the midst of too much light.

I am grateful for the light of this fleeting alternate reality, the warmth of this southern weather, the wisdom of this moment with Grandma, the faithful reminder that these things exist, even as I prepare to return to Boston. The memory of lightness will sustain me through the long, cold winter yet to come.

Which is the mystery of faith.

God has come into our world in just this way this Christmas season . . . an alternate reality, a constant comfort, a wisdom of age mixed with youth . . . one brief moment of spiritual ecstasy before returning to our normal lives. The darkness is still with us; it will not ever go away completely, nor should it. But the memory of this light sustains us through everything that will come in the months and years and lifetimes ahead.

“The Word became flesh and lived among us . . . full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). May this truth be a comfort to us in this season of darkness and light, giving us hope, and filling us with joy, reminding us of the Creator even as it speaks of the Redeemer. God is with us, in all the seasons of our lives. Amen.

Gusti Linnea Newquist

(additional lectionary texts: Jeremiah 31:7-14; Psalm 147:12-20; Ephesians 1:3-14)

Fourth Sunday in Lent -- Light and True Seeing

Passages: 1 Samuel 16:1-13, Psalm 23, Ephesians 5:8-14, John 9:1-41

Darkness cannot overcome even the faintest light.

Link to a choir rendition of Siyahamba, a South African song that relates to Ephesians 5

“The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.” –1 Samuel 16:7

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me” –Psalm 23.4

“While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” –John 9:5

“For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light … everything exposed by the light becomes visible, for it is light that makes everything visible.” –Ephesians 5:8-14

The theme of light and darkness is repeated throughout the Bible, particularly in the New Testament. In today’s lectionary, this theme – along with Samuel’s theme of true seeing – binds the passages together. In the selections I have pulled out, you can see a progression of sorts. In the Hebrew Scriptures, Samuel proclaims God’s ability to see past outward appearances into the heart – immune to deception or ill intent. In the most famous Psalm of David, David uses the image of a shadow for death, an image that has endured for about 3,000 years. In the Gospel of John, which makes eloquent use of this theme, Jesus declares himself “the light of the world.” Ephesians takes the theme even farther, encouraging Christians to “live as children of light” and ties this spiritual light with true seeing.

Although the contrast of light/darkness lends itself to dualism, it is interesting to note that darkness is not an equally powerful opposite of light, but merely its absence. Darkness is also completely incapable of overcoming light – even the faintest, palest light can vanquish some darkness. Also, anyone familiar with dimming house lights know that there are gradations of illumination – a gray area between pitch black and blinding light.

The above passage from John is found in the account of Christ healing a blind man on Sabbath. Pharisees interrogate the blind man, his parents and even Christ, unable to make sense of someone they see as a sinner (Because Jesus did not keep the Sabbath) able to perform such a prophetic act of healing. As the ordeal winds down, Jesus informs the blind man and the Pharisees, “For judgment I have come into this world, so that the blind will see and those who see will become blind” (John 9:39). Jesus connects his previous claim (“I am the light of the world”) with his current action – “I have come so that the blind may see.” Although Jesus has literally given sight to a man who was blind from birth, he is clearly speaking in metaphor. As darkness is absence of light, spiritual blindness is ignorance of the Lord.

What I find so interesting about this passage is that Jesus also says he will make those who see blind. When he states, “but now that you claim you can see, your guilt remains,” he is refuting the legitimacy of their claims to sight. Perhaps, like in 1 Samuel, they are only seeing outward appearance, unable to see into the heart. Those arrogant enough to assume they truly see the world for what it is are unable to achieve true spiritual sight. Christ seems to be adopting the Socratic ideal – perhaps an instance of the Greek influence on Jewish thought – that in order to become wise, you must first admit your ignorance. In a mysterious paradox, you must negate yourself as a knower in order to know anything.

Those who confess their blindness are absolved of their sin: “If you were blind, you would not be guilty of sin.” If we cling stubbornly to our “sight” our guilt will remain with us. We will remain in darkness, unable to attain knowledge of our true surroundings, and unable to abide by the advice in Ephesians to live as children of light, truly seeing God’s creation.