The Challenge and the Gift of Darkness

The Challenge and the Gift of Darkness

Okay, I admit it. I’m not a fan of the dark.

This season of the year, needless to say, is not my favorite. Although I hear so many rail against the excess of the coming weeks, I have to confess to being so grateful for the holiday light show and hubbub that keeps darkness, albeit through a hefty dose of artifice and over-exuberance, away. I guess in that primordial past, my ancestors were the flee-ers, not the fighters. And, let’s face it, as you can see here, I even work to abolish the darkness that prohibits women from ordination and leadership in the Catholic Church from behind the safety of words, fleeing to their shelter to do my confrontations.

Image by Kelley Kuhlman

Advent, therefore, gives me – and maybe you, too – a special challenge. As if the days shortening and darkening weren’t enough, we’re shoved into the season with Biblical descriptions of stars falling, the moon failing to bring its shine, and the heavens shaking, We get no graceful, gentle welcome into the season, just drama and mystery, and the barest hint of a promise of the coming light.

Sometimes I feel as if that is exactly where we are in the struggle for women’s places in the churches and other houses of power in the world. It is a deeply uncomfortable, profoundly discouraging time, frightening in its darkness. And yet—maybe it is the plunge into that very darkness that will give us new life.

When our usual ways of seeing in the world, our reliable sources of illumination and inspiration and creativity no longer function effectively in the new darkness, we are forced to look for fresh sources of light, for internal sight, for beacons coming from inside us or from our communities, lamps we have never seen lit before.

This kind of Advent journey from darkness to light is not for the fighters and the fleers though. It is for those who are brave in a whole different and unique way.

And because it requires such courage, we probably need to take something with us on the way. Recently, I asked my small faith group this question (one which I must give credit to Jan Richardson, minister and poet, for including in her Advent series): What would you carry with you into the darkness?

I love their answers. One said her belief that EVERYTHING is a gift from God’s loving heart. Another said, humbly, her uncertainty. Another said she would take nothing so that she could be completely open to whatever was waiting there for her. Someone else said she would take her own inner light and let its shine lead her way.

Miss Fearful, me, had one of those blessed moments of insight. I have always loved that my Catholic religion gave me the precious gift of viewing all of life sacramentally. If that is true, I suddenly realized, then darkness is a sacrament, too, a channel of grace. No fear is necessary.

My favorite of their answers, though, was quite simple. One woman replied, “My Teddy Bear.” Whatever gender, whatever cause, we all need those!

 

2 Responses

  1. Kathy Schuck says:

    I thoroughly enjoy the rich and wonderful stories shared via “The Table.” Thank you!

  2. Susan Ring says:

    The “O” antiphons, the memory of the last day before we left for Christmas , and we were in the chapel with candles, and the wonderful smell. We sang many other Advent songs.

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