The Longest Night

The Longest Night

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” (John 1:5)

            Guest Writer: Paula Franck

The contrast between light and darkness is a familiar theme in spiritual life – especially during Advent and Christmas. Darkness represents sin, ignorance, and the absence of God, whereas light calls forth life-giving images of God’s glorious presence. In the Gospel of John, Jesus proclaims, “I am the light of the world.” (Jn 8:12).

However, there is a natural rhythm of light and darkness, night and day, and as Barbara Brown Taylor explains in Learning to Walk in the Dark (HarperOne, 2014), there is much we can learn from the dark. “Darkness is shorthand for anything that scares me – either because I am sure I do not have the resources to survive or because I do not want to find out. If I had my way, I would eliminate everything from chronic back pain to the fear of the devil from my life and the lives of those I love. At least, I think I would.

The problem is this: when, despite all my best efforts, the lights have gone off in my life, plunging me into the kind of darkness that turns my knees to water, I have not died. The monsters have not dragged me out of bed and taken me back to their lair. Instead, I have learned things in the dark that I could never have learned in the light, things that have saved my life over and over again, so that there is only one logical conclusion. I need darkness as much as I need light.”

There is much that happens in the dark. In Genesis, “darkness covered the face of the deep” (1:2) until God separated the light from the dark. Seeds germinate underground; babies grow in the darkness of the womb; the Resurrection happened in the darkness before sunrise on Easter morning. Thus, no matter how dark circumstances in our lives may seem, there is the potential for new life to spring forth out of that darkness. Madeline L’Engle reminds us: “Maybe you have to know the darkness before you can appreciate the light.”

Tonight is the Winter Solstice – the longest night of the year and the beginning of winter on December 21. But just when we experience the darkest night, the days once again begin to become longer. This rebirth of the sun has been celebrated since ancient times in cultures all over the world. On the Julian calendar, the winter solstice was always observed on December 25. Thus, the early Christian church chose that date to commemorate the birth of God’s son, the one who would be a “light to the world.”

Thus, in all circumstances of life, we can rely on the promise inherent in the Incarnation: “In him there is no darkness at all. The night and the day are both alike.” (Hymnbook 1982, The Church Pension Fund, 1985).

Paula Franck

Joanna. joannaseibert.com

Merton: Mary and Elizabeth

Thomas Merton: Mary and Elizabeth

“Then it was as if I suddenly saw the secret beauty of their hearts, the depths of their hearts where neither sin nor desire nor self-knowledge can reach, the core of their reality, the person who each one is in God’s eyes. If only they could all see themselves as they really are. If only we could see each other that way all the time. There would be no more war, no more hatred, no more cruelty, no more greed.”—Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, 140-142, Doubleday:1966.

church of visitation Jerusalem

Merton’s mystical experience captures what spiritual friends seek to accomplish: seeing the light of Christ in each other. I am reminded of the visit of Mary, the mother of Jesus, to her even more pregnant relative, Elizabeth, in Luke 1:39-56. As Elizabeth, carrying John the Baptist, hears Mary’s greeting to her, the baby in her womb leaps for joy. Elizabeth is then filled with the Holy Spirit and greets Mary with the words: “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.” Mary then breaks into the song of praise and thanksgiving, which we call the Magnificat, “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord.”

How wonderful when we meet our neighbor, and the creative part within us, the Christ within us, leaps for joy to perceive the Christ within our neighbor. What does this story tell us occurs in our lives and the lives of our neighbors when this happens? We are filled with the Holy Spirit, and our neighbor is empowered to say, sing, or live out the Magnificat.

Some of us are like Mary, just beginning to bear children. Many of us are like Elizabeth, beyond the child-bearing age. Some of us have never borne children, but this story of these two saints and Merton’s story still speaks to us. God is speaking to the birthing, the creative part of us, which empowers us to see the Christ in ourselves and the Christ in our neighbor.1

1 Seibert, The Living Church, May 25, 2003

Joanna        https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Inside Voice

Inside voice

Quiet

“For whatever reason, God never seems to shout when trying to get my attention. God always uses his ‘inside voice,’ as my mother used to call it. Shouting, calling, crying out, and throwing people off their horses is great stuff, but that’s not how I hear God. I hear God in a whisper; in a look; in a turn of the head; in a subtle expression on a face.”—Br. James Koester, Brother, Give Us a Word, Society of Saint John the Evangelist, Daily Email, SSJE.org, friends@ssje.org

The irony is that as we read from SSJE about God speaking to us in God’s inside voice, I am practicing preaching with all my might with my outside voice. My voice is soft. It is a legacy from my father, who was soft-spoken. It is a blessing and a curse. It is a blessing, as I talk to people and can more easily relate to them as a softer listener. But when I stand in the pulpit to preach the word of God or speak out to a group, I have always had difficulty projecting that message, even with suitable amplification. My husband always sits in the back of any congregation or meeting, giving me signs to increase my volume. I spent years working with a fantastic speech pathologist, but I still have to push my voice. If someone has a hearing impairment, they may especially have difficulty hearing me.

My former rector took me on as a project to increase my volume. He let me read prayers outside at a burial office as an “audition” to see if I had an outside voice. After that, I think he gave up on me! Recently, I preached at a church without amplification. I felt as if I were shouting the entire time.

So, what is the point of all this regarding our relationship with God? First, I have become acutely aware of what an inside voice sounds like and the volume of my outside voice. My connection to God comes through an inside voice, quietly slipping in. But, we often hear these soft messages when we least suspect God, usually in interruptions in our daily routine.

God seems to speak most clearly in Advent in an inside voice, while the world shouts more than ever in an outside voice mode.

I wonder, however, if God also speaks to us at times with an outside voice, and we may never hear it because we expect only the quiet inside connection.

Does God’s outside voice also speak at unexpected times by the least expected people we rarely listen to or don’t even want to listen to?

For the present, my best experience with God’s outside voice is in my dreams. Eventually, my dreams become louder, more memorable, and messier if I ignore them.

Joanna https://www.joannaseibert.com/