Tuesday in the Third Week of Advent
"The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined..."
This is the time of year in the upper Midwest when it seems we spend a good deal of our lives in the dark. We are but a few days from the winter solstice -- the shortest period of daylight in the year.
In these waning days of December, darkness gives way to morning light reluctantly, and begins its all-too-quick return just after mid-afternoonn. We are shrouded in night well before 5:00 p.m. Add to the darkness some cold temperatures, gusting winds and blowing snow and the urge to hibernate becomes almost irresistible. No wonder we decorate our lawns, windows, doors and shrubs with thousands upon thousands of lights -- we need some brightness to infuse the winter gloom!
As we've read through the first eight chapters of Isaiah, there's been plenty to be gloomy about. Isaiah is mostly pessimistic about the immediate future. Warnings of impending destruction. Warnings of inevitable desolation. Warnings of the wrath to come. Warnings of Holy Judgment. Talk about gloomy!
And then, in today's reading, a bit of a respite. We catch a glimpse of the future that lies beyond the immediate future. At the end of all that Isaiah sees ahead for his country (and indeed the entirety of the world!) -- after the Day of the Lord darkens the heavens and purifies the creation with the heat of Divine Love. A new light will shine. A new day will dawn, "There will be no gloom..."
Earlier today, I read that "Advent is a search in the dark. It is 'a call to live wide awake,' Philip Berrigan and Elizabeth McAlister wrote, 'so that we can be alert to God working in us.' It is the call to tend again whatever lights may be dying in our own hearts and to wait for them to be enkindled however they can." (Listen with the Heart: Sacred Moments in Everyday Life by Joan Chittister, p. 117)
Waiting in the dark can be frightening. Every noise startles us. We easily lose our sense of location or perspective. Time seems to slow to a crawl. Staying awake is nearly impossible. Today we wait in Advent darkness for the new Light to shine. Today we contend with our impatience and gloom as we wait for the Sun of Righteousness to arise -- in our hearts and at the end of time. Isaiah's assurance is ours as well, we may walk in darkness, but through the eyes of faith we can see a great Light.
O come, O come, Emmanuel!
Yes! Really!
"The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined..."
This is the time of year in the upper Midwest when it seems we spend a good deal of our lives in the dark. We are but a few days from the winter solstice -- the shortest period of daylight in the year.
In these waning days of December, darkness gives way to morning light reluctantly, and begins its all-too-quick return just after mid-afternoonn. We are shrouded in night well before 5:00 p.m. Add to the darkness some cold temperatures, gusting winds and blowing snow and the urge to hibernate becomes almost irresistible. No wonder we decorate our lawns, windows, doors and shrubs with thousands upon thousands of lights -- we need some brightness to infuse the winter gloom!
As we've read through the first eight chapters of Isaiah, there's been plenty to be gloomy about. Isaiah is mostly pessimistic about the immediate future. Warnings of impending destruction. Warnings of inevitable desolation. Warnings of the wrath to come. Warnings of Holy Judgment. Talk about gloomy!
And then, in today's reading, a bit of a respite. We catch a glimpse of the future that lies beyond the immediate future. At the end of all that Isaiah sees ahead for his country (and indeed the entirety of the world!) -- after the Day of the Lord darkens the heavens and purifies the creation with the heat of Divine Love. A new light will shine. A new day will dawn, "There will be no gloom..."
Earlier today, I read that "Advent is a search in the dark. It is 'a call to live wide awake,' Philip Berrigan and Elizabeth McAlister wrote, 'so that we can be alert to God working in us.' It is the call to tend again whatever lights may be dying in our own hearts and to wait for them to be enkindled however they can." (Listen with the Heart: Sacred Moments in Everyday Life by Joan Chittister, p. 117)
Waiting in the dark can be frightening. Every noise startles us. We easily lose our sense of location or perspective. Time seems to slow to a crawl. Staying awake is nearly impossible. Today we wait in Advent darkness for the new Light to shine. Today we contend with our impatience and gloom as we wait for the Sun of Righteousness to arise -- in our hearts and at the end of time. Isaiah's assurance is ours as well, we may walk in darkness, but through the eyes of faith we can see a great Light.
O come, O come, Emmanuel!
Yes! Really!
posted by FrGaryB | 2:21 PM
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